Joc Ferrous was speechless. On his sales counter was the prototype armor he had custom fitted a day ago, sans helmet. On the other side was the boy he had sold it to, looking embarrassed after explaining what had happened.
Finally, Joc found his words. "You were fighting what?"
"Lancer Grimm." Jay responded.
That is what the weaponsmith thought he had heard. "Why were- No. Never mind."
It was safer not to know. Plausible deniability. If customers never disclosed what they intended to do with the instruments Ferrous Works sold them, then he could not be held criminally liable for their actions.
Still, he was curious. Very curious. He had to stamp hard on his natural inquisitiveness.
"What do you think? Can you replace it?"
According to Jay, the lost helmet had an integrated threat identification system. This had been news to Joc. He had believed that the only interesting feature was the mech-shift portions.
If he had known, he would have charged extra.
"I can acquire Atlas military-styled headgear without much hassle." There were no export controls on protective equipment. "What I do not know is if these helmets are interchangeable. The next one may not work the same way."
The equipment had not seemed all that special. Then again, Joc had not investigated the armor set beyond basic maintenance. His knowledge on the internal electronics was nonexistent. All he had was conjecture.
Ferrous was sure there was not enough space in the helmet for a CPU. With how easily gear could get misplaced or swapped, he doubted it would have hosted anything more important than flash memory. That meant the system 'brain' had to be in the armor itself.
Other complications were possible. For instance, the visor lenses could have been specially made for scanning. Without the specifications, he would have difficulties replicating that functionality even if the software were fully intact.
This was all speculation. He would not know until he examined the pieces fully. Jay was understanding of this once it was explained.
"I'm not asking for miracles. Just try your best. My boss was impressed with its usefulness and is willing to pay double to get any part working again. Triple for the whole thing."
Impressing Torchwick would be a first for Ferrous. Getting his approval would be worth almost as much as the money. Almost.
"I'll see what I can do. In the meantime, are there any modifications you would like me to make? That was the reason you took the armor for a test run."
They spent the next hour discussing ways of customizing the chest and arm pieces. Many of the updates were aesthetic in nature. Jay was adamant about removing all references to Atlas. That included a new paint job and accenting.
The desired color scheme was meant to complement the sword on his hip. To Joc, the blade looked more like a museum piece than a serious weapon. Its construction was straight out of the Great War period. After some prodding, he was able to take custody of 'Crocea Mors' to ensure it was up to current standards.
There were also discussions on adding small storage compartments to the torso. While armor crafting was not his strong suit, the task would not be too difficult to accomplish. Creating storage capabilities was more a matter of subtraction and reformatting than addition.
He sketched away on the back of some napkins to visualize what the teen wanted. When there was a change, he balled the paper up and threw it away. Each iteration nudged the look further and further away from the original.
Increasingly it became something new. What was once a straightforward sale had become a bigger project. One that would swamp Joc in work.
On the plus side, these deviations allowed him to start thinking outside the box. His mind churned away at the problem of a new helmet as they went. Maybe, he considered, there was no reason to use military issued headgear at all.
"How does this look?" Ferrous asked after finishing his latest design.
The boy studied the cheap paper carefully. "Fantastic, if you think you can pull it off."
"This is well within my capabilities."
Joc stapled the sketch to the cost ticket before laying them next to the backpack and sword. The container that held both was shelved for later. Next up, he pulled out another bin. This one was already full.
"When can you have everything ready?" Jay asked.
"Few days at most."
Usually it would take longer, but Joc was intrigued. Challenges always got him working longer and harder. He also did not have any other jobs waiting in the backlog. Having an open schedule freed him up to work on projects that interested him.
The new bin was placed before Jay. "Is this it?"
"Yessir. Finished a bit early as well." Taking the lid off, Ferrous pulled out the weapon. "For your consideration."
Unsheathing the long knife and expanding the parasol, he handed Hush over. Jay took the items carefully. He repeatedly retracted and deployed the frilly shield. Satisfied, he closed everything up again.
"Excellent work. Truly." His phrasing made him sound more mature than he was.
"Thank you."
"Uh, one last thing." Jay scratched his head with uncertainty, acting more in line with his age. "You haven't seen Hush's owner around, have you?"
"No." Thankfully. "Why? Is she missing?"
"She hasn't been responding to my calls."
"Ah." Joc now understood how such a nice lad ended up working under Roman Torchwick. Or in this case, under Neopolitan. "Listen, I can understand the appeal. I was young once. But while she may be fetching, that is not a cave you should go spelunking in, if you catch my drift."
"...What?"
"Take it from a man who has been around the block. Dames like her are not worth the emotional and physical scars. I've got plenty of crazy gal memories and bite marks I would wish away in an instant."
Jay stared at him. "I'm going to go now."
"Very well." Experience would have to be his teacher.
As Jay left, Joc moved over to his workbench. He did not bring the armor yet. There was something he wanted to check first.
Booting up his terminal, he conducted a basic information search of a local electronics retailer. Drilling down to their bulk purchase section, he found what he was looking for. There was a 3-for-1 sale on augmented reality goggles.
AR had been a novelty technology years earlier. Some futurists had predicted that wearable devices would overtake Scrolls as the next generation of communication devices. Their ability to inject seamless information exchange into real time environments was revolutionary.
However, the idea had failed to take off. They were, to put it bluntly, unfashionable. Lame.
This revelation did not happen quickly enough for the manufacturers. Plenty of them bought into the fad hard, oversaturating the market with options that no one was buying. Their loss was Joc's potential gain as he scooped up a few to tinker around with.
After all, this STRATOS system sounded suspiciously like AR technology. Perhaps he could piggyback a solution using off the shelf hardware. The goggles were cheap regardless, so he could afford to experiment.
With that taken care of, he began preparing his fabrication tools. All the while, he could not keep his mind off Jay and his girl problems. That was a trainwreck waiting to happen.
XX. Taken for a Ride
"Here you are, little girl!"
Neopolitan gratefully took the waffle cone from the outdoor ice cream seller. She was so elated that she let the comment about her stature go without a violent reprisal. Instead, she walked away in peace while happily licking away at the sweet treat.
"Uh, wait miss! You didn't pay for-"
The tri-colored female took a bite on her way down a back alley. The chocolate and caramel mix felt good on her tongue. There was no dreadful fruity aftertaste, like that present in sherbet. This was the perfect balm for her sour mood.
Ice cream, no matter how good, could not fix everything. Neo was tired, bruised, and sweaty. Killing a dozen, car-sized murder hornets with a cane was taxing.
On the plus side, Miss Murder had sunk back into the recesses of her mental space. Without the pressure from her imaginary friend, Neo could reorient. She had spent too much energy reacting rather than responding. An undesirable situation.
Taking another sugary mouthful, she pulled out her Scroll. There were several missed calls. All from Roman's burner.
Not that she would ever admit it, but when Neo had come down from her battle-high, there had been an unexpected emotion awaiting. A slithering dread had wormed its way into her heart. With Roman nowhere to be seen, she feared her only friend in the world had been taken away.
Again.
Thankfully, he was too resourceful for that kind of fate. Returning to the city had inundated her with mentally relieving notifications. His locator had been turned on. Checking the screen let her know that he was within the city walls, safe and sound.
Neo felt silly for doubting. She hated feeling silly. To get rid of that condition, she decided to fit in some rest and relaxation before returning to him.
Ice cream was the first stop. Next would be some pampering. Then, some more violence to keep her sharp. There were certainly enough scumbags out there looking for trouble. They would certainly find all that they could handle with her.
As the height of her sundae scoops shrank, Neo finally began feeling right. Each mouthful reinvigorated her. Finishing off the cone with a couple of big chomps, she arrived at her next destination: Sweety's.
The inside of the massage parlor was about as run-down as she had expected. A hefty man in a red track suit, presumably Sweety, sat behind a counter in what passed for a reception area. Scantily clothed women stood nearby. They looked to be on display.
Under most circumstances, she would have avoided a place like this. However, she had a good feeling she could scratch those two items off her list here. The proprietor looked down at her with lecherous delight.
"Well, now." The chains around his thick neck clacked together. "You are not like our other clientele. Unless you are here for a try out instead?"
He let out a belly laugh. The others did the same, more out of obligation than finding anything hilarious. More than a few gave Neo pitying looks.
She shook her head and raised a finger. Nailed to the wall behind him was a placard that listed the parlor's services. Sweety raised an eyebrow.
"Back massage? Rather traditional. Are you sure you wouldn't like something more stimulating?"
Her head shook again. She jabbed the air at her preferred option. Then it moved over to the eldest member of the gaggle of 'employees.' This was purposeful to discourage any misinterpretations. The lady appeared old enough to be Neopolitan's mother.
This tact did not work as expected. "That's your angle? All right. Not my place to judge. Lien first and no refunds. Anything extra you can work out with Carmel."
Neo frowned. She considered changing to someone else but decided against it. That would have extended the conversation more than she wanted.
From her pocket, she retrieved a card to hand over. His chubby digits went for the money before detouring and clamping around her wrist. Neo cringed at his lavish smirk.
"If you are looking for a mommy, you could use a daddy as well. I have a few spare hours to fill in. What do you say?"
Low and behold, Neo had found her scumbag.
She grabbed a chain with her free hand. Sweety's expression morphed from smoldering to shocked. Pulling down forcefully, the jewelry string went taut. The rest of him followed.
His head bounced off the counter. He then tumbled back against the wall before slumping to his knees. The women jolted at the sudden action. None of them said a word though, either unsure or unwilling to defend their souteneur.
On the tabletop, Neo saw there was a smudge where his skull collided with the glossy covering. Glancing down at Sweety showed that this was makeup. Underneath the cosmetic covering on his forehead was yellow discoloration.
"Stop! No! Not again!" He desperately yelped.
By all appearances, Neo was not the first to swat this bug. That fact made it much less satisfying. Leaving Sweety where he lay, she tossed her payment onto the floor. She then marched up to Carmel, giving her an expectant look.
"R-right this way!" She waved to a side room.
Minutes later, Neopolitan was flat on her stomach. Carmel hovered over her, kneading the smaller woman's deltoids. Despite the initial misgivings, the masseuse had calmed down. Predictable work had her forgetting the scene outside their room.
In fact, she was giddy. Neo started to wonder if she had misjudged the generational gap between them. It was possible that Carmel had prematurely aged through a rough life.
"That was so cool what you did!" She gushed while rubbing away. "Think you could do that again on the way out? Sweety owes me back pay."
If the wonderful pressure were kept up on the knot in her neck, Neo would happily do anything the lady wanted. She silently purred as magical hands kneaded her muscles and the spaces in-between. All her stress melted away.
Almost all of it.
In the full body mirror opposite the massage table — Neopolitan ignored why that was in the room at all — there was movement. A tiny face with brown hair peaked up from the bottom edge to watch. Her other imaginary friend had become active.
Neo bared her teeth. Trivia became frightened. Translucent fingers clamped tight over those sad brown eyes and yanked her out of sight, where she belonged.
With the actual little girl taken care of, Neo relaxed into the soothing touch. She started to doze off before another nuisance made itself known. There was a light buzz in her pocket.
Roman again. She let out a breathless groan.
Ignoring problems felt good for a while. Eventually, though, they always caught up with her. The only way to push them out of her mind was to promise herself that she would take care of it once her business at the establishment was complete.
Another quiet moan wormed its way into her throat. Decidedly, Neo was in no hurry. Letting Roman fend for himself for a little while would strengthen his container's character. That boy could use some adversity to toughen him up.
/ / /
"My legs are cramping."
There was a grunt in response.
Tommy Gunn and Leroy Browne sat together in a hatchback near the docks. They were beside a sign facing a small shack near the water. From their position they could see in all directions leading up to the building.
Their car was comically small for men of their build. On short trips the vehicle would have been perfectly serviceable. For long stakeouts, however, there was much to be desired. A point that Tommy belabored.
"Just saying, I can now empathize with sardines."
"Sardines don't have legs."
"Lucky them." Tommy rubbed his calves. "How'd you get this tin can anyway? Shacking up with some recently divorced mother-of-two?"
"Borrowed it from a friend."
This time, Tommy grunted. Leroy had always been tight-lipped. He had changed little in the years they had spent apart after his early release from prison. Being together again did stir up some nostalgia.
"Boy, this brings me back. Remember those stakeouts we used to do for the old man? You, me, Al, and Huang? Those were the days."
When they were teens, Hei Senor would send them out on recon runs. Never to enemy turf, though. They stuck to allied territories to scope out soft targets for robberies. He was trying to give his grandson, Huang, some seasoning. Not get him strung up.
That did not end up doing Huang many favors. The youngest Xiong did not have a mind for the business. When Junior ascended as the main leader, he froze his nephew out of any real leadership positions.
Huang defected to run an affiliate gang. Leroy and Tommy followed him less out of obligation and more out of an intense dislike for Junior. That their new boss had made peace with Spider after Senior's death rubbed them and other OG's the wrong way.
The three were hungry for an opportunity to make a name for themselves. And then they got busted. Shooting too high came with a price.
"Whatever happened to Huang?" Tommy asked after a pause.
They lost touch when Huang was transferred to a penal colony near the settlement of Sumire. Tommy had not really thought about him afterwards. He was too busy trying to survive his incarceration as an excommunicated member of the Xiong family.
"Either dead or rotting in jail."
"Cheery. Guess we can't all be as lucky as Al."
The fourth member of their old recon group was a special case. Al, having sided with Junior and thus avoided the dragnet, had left the grifting life behind. Word was he had moved to Mistral, opened a chain of restaurants, and now had a dozen kids or something insane like that.
"That wasn't luck. He was smart to save his money and get out when the getting was good."
"Don't misunderstand. I harbor no ill-will." It was only a touch of envy. "If I had retained a fraction of what I earned in my teens and twenties, I would be halfway to a new life on Menagerie."
"You wouldn't like Menagerie, Tom."
"How do you figure?"
Leroy turned his head from the road to give Tommy a flat look. "Because of all the faunus that live there. Remember them?"
"Heyo, I'm no human supremacist! I'm friends with you, aren't I?"
"One faunus acquaintance does not make you less of a bigot."
"Friends." Tommy stressed back. "Although you may be right. You're not like the other animals. Sometimes I forget you are one at all."
In all the years Tommy had known him, Leroy did not discuss his heritage. He never brought up his 'people' or nebulous concepts like 'equality.' That made him much more approachable than the rest of his kind.
Leroy's fingers flexed on the steering wheel. "Want me to introduce your face to the curb? Because I can do that once we are through here."
"Why wait!" Tommy threw his hands up in exacerbation. "At least that would be interesting. I'm bored out of my gourd here. This is comparable to my nights out with girls from Atlas; Frigid with absolutely no action in sight."
There was a deep sigh. The big guy's head turned back to the road. Under his breath, he muttered something that Tommy barely caught.
"Probably didn't pay 'em enough…"
"Ah! See! There's that classic Roy witticisms I know and love." Laughing, he slapped Leroy on the shoulder. The other man winced. "What the-"
There was a lump near the shoulder blade. Tommy poked it. Leroy batted the hand away.
"Quit it."
That was something Tommy was unwilling to do. He reached under his friend's jacket and found that the area was padded. There was some crinkling, reminding him of a large bandage packed with gauze. Leroy winced, confirming his suspicions.
"What happened there?"
"Nothing."
"Doesn't feel like nothing."
Someone had hurt him badly to get a response like that. Leroy was not one to feign injury. Quite the opposite. During a bar brawl a while back, the enforcer had a chair broken over his back and did not so much as flinch.
Tommy wondered if the injury was why he had been called in. It would have been useful information to have as far as planning went. Leroy's tendency to withhold details was a nuisance.
"Took a stray round a few days ago. It's why we are here."
"Looking to get even?" Leroy gave the slightest inclination of his head. "Why didn't you say so? That's much more intriguing than what I thought we were doing."
"What did you think we were doing?"
"Some sort of smash and grab." The Collector shrugged. "So, the guy we want frequents this dump?"
"A guy who knows the guy does. We need to have a chat with them."
"Now we are talking. We can have a lot of fun indeed." He rubbed his hands together.
'Chats' were even better. Tommy had special tools for that. Too bad he left those behind. He would need to innovate. That was a challenge he could get behind.
"Not like-" Leroy leaned forward before saying. "Hold up a sec."
Coming down the sidewalk opposite of them was a yellow-haired man carrying an umbrella. A boy, really, with a baby face that had never seen a razor. Tall and weedy, he did not strike the image of someone who knew something about anything.
"That's him?"
There was a hum. "I'm going to approach. Hang back and be ready if he gets flighty."
"Gotcha."
Escaping the metaphorical metal prison was as good as getting out of a real one. Tommy's leg muscles trembled in relief. They steadied as he rounded a corner to get behind their quarry.
Leroy opted for the straightforward approach. He crossed at a diagonal to step into the kid's path. Tommy arrived at an advantageous position just as the confrontation started. From their blind spot near a brick wall, he could just barely hear them.
"You there." Leroy opened the conversation. "Remember me?"
The blond had stopped cold, clearly not expecting to see anyone. The distance between them was short but meaningful. He hesitated before answering.
"You're that security guard… from the apartment complex."
"Good. Saves me the explanation. I need you to come with me, friend." Leroy took a step forward.
Blondie took a step back. "Strange. My mom always told me that 'strangers are just friends you haven't met.' I don't think this is what she meant."
"I don't care about your mother."
The retort was surprisingly harsh. "What do you care about?"
"Mercury Black."
The name was lost on Tommy, but it meant a lot to the two of them. The boy tensed up. His stance hardened with all attention on the encroaching faunus.
"What does he have to do with this?"
"Everything." Once more, Leroy advanced on the backpedaling kid.
"I don't know what you think-"
"I think you are my key to finding him. Now come along. Don't make this harder than it must."
That was Tommy's cue. They were close enough for him to enter the conversation. With some quick steps, he closed the distance on the target.
At the last minute, Blondie turned at the approaching sounds. The threat was detected too late. Señor Zap became acquainted with his side. A couple thousand volts went directly into his torso. After a short discharge cycle, he collapsed into Tommy's waiting arms.
"Got him!"
"The hell!" Leroy shouted. "You were only supposed to cut him off! Not fry him!"
"C'mon, we both knew how that was going to end."
The stunned boy began to wiggle, already recovering. Such a showing of fortitude was commendable. Tommy kneed him in the stomach to settle him back down.
Oddly, there was more resistance than with the stun gun. A shimmer appeared on contact. The kid had Aura. Luckily, the protective energy only blunted catastrophic damage. It did nothing to stop the wind from being knocked out of him.
Leroy looked around frantically for witnesses. There were not any. It would not stay that way for long.
"Hold him! I'll bring the car around." He ran across the street for their car.
The Collector huffed. This was not his first rendition.
There was a wheeze as the kid tried to catch his breath. He also began to murmur as if he were talking to himself. It was some kind of delirium. Tommy shushed his captive.
Shortly after, the car was brought around. Leroy got out to help drag the boy around to the rear. Together, they opened the hatch and tossed him inside.
For good measure, they made sure to bind his legs and arms with some cargo netting. The material primarily used to hold groceries made for great restraints. Already an innovation and the day was young.
As Leroy got behind the wheel, Tommy went back to the sidewalk. He picked up the umbrella Blondie had been carrying. During the scuffle, it had dropped. Not wanting to leave any evidence behind, the Vacuan took it with him as he re-entered the passenger's side.
"That was a really dumb way of handling it." Leroy chided as he put the vehicle in drive.
"What you mean to say is, 'thanks Tommy.'"
"Yeah. Thanks for nothing." The car edged forward onto the street.
Although mad now, Leroy would come around. They would soon have all the information they needed. It was just a matter of applying the correct pressure. On which, Tommy was an expert. He rolled the umbrella over in his hands while devising ideas of how to make that happen.
/ / /
Everything was falling apart for the High Fly Flows. That was Shaw's assessment of his criminal enterprise. Spending two whole nights in a jail cell had crystallized the thought, but it had been firming up for much longer.
After posting bail, the gang leader now dozed on a smelly armchair in the rumpus room of his lieutenant's childhood home. This outcome was unacceptable. He was meant for bigger things.
Taking over the Flows was destiny. Elevating the street gang's status to the number one drug producer in the city was child's play. Overtaking the Xiong as the premier outfit in Vale seemed inevitable. Shaw was untouchable.
Now all of that was in doubt. They had lost everything. Their cooking space, their hard earned money, and their dignity were long gone.
Compounding this was a rapidly lengthening enemies list: Hei Xiong for ordering their eviction. The Division for reneging on their protection deal. Any of the numerous urchins and pushers that had gobbled up their client base while they were indisposed.
They would all get what was coming to them. The Flows were down, but not out. Once the group was back on its feet, they would get even with all of them. Shaw had already started calling in debts to raise the capital they would need to wage war.
However, there was one outstanding problem. A single person was out there who could unravel them. One woman they could not afford to ignore.
At the tippy top of the enemies list was the girl he knew as Jan. His blood boiled at the thought of her. She was the source of their problems. The Flow's stock only began to crater with her involvement in their affairs.
First she had ruined Shaw's night out with his mates. His jaw ached from the fillings she knocked out. The cuts on his forehead had yet to heal, weeping blood when he got too excited.
Getting knocked around when piss-drunk was a known hazard. That a girl a fourth his size had done the knocking mattered very little. Shaw had been willing to forget, if not forgive.
Second, she had attacked their production facility. The underhanded way Jan had done it was galling. She snuck in like a rat with that blond-haired bastard, took them for everything they had, and displayed Shaw like a trophy for the nightly news.
That insult could not be forgotten. Twice she had made fools of them. There could not be a third.
"Boss! You around?"
"Back here."
The owner of the house, Rufus, entered the rumpus room. "Hey. Got some good news for you."
"You figured out where Gunn went?"
The freelancer they had hired to collect from their debtors had gone radio silent. He was of the erratic variety but came highly recommended. They could also afford to underpay him. Gunn's other options were constrained due to his running afoul of the Xiong.
"Something else. Sweety Dill rang us up."
Shaw had difficulty placing the name. "The pimp that owns that rub-down house? What'd he want? Referrals?"
Fat polecats like Sweety were always sniffing around for new girls. A flat fee was paid for each pretty young thing sent his way. If the lady was indebted to the Flows, then all paychecks went directly to them until they were paid back.
That rarely happened. Junkies kept up their habits as they worked, creating more debt. This made it a highly profitable cycle for the Flows, even if Sweety made their collective skin crawl.
"He has a line on the girl you put a bounty on."
"What!?" Shaw was on his feet now.
As soon as he was released, he called in numerous favors to announce a cash prize for anyone who could give them Jan. Shaw thought he would get a hit eventually. She was very distinctive. He did not think it would be this soon, however.
His heart pounded. The palms of his hands became sticky and slick. He hissed as he felt his forehead wounds open again.
"Keep it easy." Rufus urged.
The leader growled at his subordinate. "How does he know?"
"She's a current client."
"Of course." The little whore likely got off by dominating other whores. "When is she going to be down there next?"
If they could set up an ambush, they could take her out easy enough. Maybe they could even have a little fun before throwing her away. That would truly make all the hardships worth it.
This idea burst immediately. "No. 'Current' as in she is there right now. Sweety has no idea if or when she will be back. If we are grabbing her, it has to be now."
"Why didn't you lead with that!?" He hurried to the living room with Rufus following. "Do we have eyes on her? Any way to know when she leaves?"
"Sweety will give us a heads up."
"Not good enough. I'll send someone over to trail her." Someone discrete. There were not a lot of them in his organization, but he needed to try. "In the meantime, get the boys together. Tell them to bring any hardware they can get their hands on. We're going for a ride."
There was a wince from Rufus. "I don't know how many will answer the call right now. They are keeping their heads down."
Their members were unsure of which way the Flows were going. They were either a surging tide or going down the drain. Shaw needed to show that it was the former and not the latter. Making an example of Jan would go a long way to offering proof.
"Tell them that they either show up or they are done. This is non-negotiable."
"Aight. Just don't be pissy when the numbers are low."
Shaw waved him off. Small and faithful might be better than many and uncertain in this case. There was no room for doubt for what came next. This day would make or break them all.
