Chapter 3: Snake Eyes
Grant rubbed his shoulder as he stepped down from the delivery bike, boots scraping across the gravel that passed for a sidewalk around here. Today's route was a strange one. Not a hard one, but it had kept him running around Satellite for far longer than he would have liked. He had gone from Satellite's harbor all the way to the trainyard that lay a stone's throw from one of the few still operating mills of the district. The last stop had been at the husk of an old electronics store that was a known Skorpion hideout.
The route was doable in an afternoon, but had taken him in altogether opposite directions, and none of them had been urgent.
Nowe that Grant had made it back to the shop the sun was already sinking to sink, casting shadows over the broken steel and rebar that made up the bones of Satellite. He wasn't an idiot, today had been meant to keep him away from the shop. And much to his annoyance it had worked.
His footsteps slowed to a stop when he saw what had been carved into one of the shop's walls, angled enough that it caught the late afternoon sun just right to stand out to anyone looking at it. It wasn't an emblem of the Scorpions, they would at least laugh at a good joke if you cracked one while interacting with them. No, this one was something else, much cruder, and much angrier.
It was a rough approximation of a Viper.
Grant froze, and for a moment the entire street felt much quieter than usual, as if the city itself were holding its breath. Briggs was already outside, arms crossed and working his jaw as if he glared at it enough it might slither off.
"Vipers?" Grant asked, voice level despite the slight tension slowly growing in his spine.
Briggs nodded, but didn't turn to him when he finally spoke, "No knock, no taunts, just tagged the wall and left."
Grant stepped up beside him, eyes scanning the crude sigil. "...this was about the other day, isn't it? They heard about that mess with the kid."
"They definitely heard about the kid," Briggs muttered. "Word is he's been running his mouth, like I warned you he would. News is someone stepped in and embarrassed Krav in front of his crew—and more importantly, didn't get their face rearranged for it."
Briggs' voice was different this time, none of the usual heat in it, just the weight of someone already knowing something bad was about to happen, and somehow the lack of the usual gruff edge to it made it worse.
"Think they're coming back?" Grant asked after a pause.
"Oh, they'll come back," Briggs said flatly. "But they aren't going to go through the front, that ain't how the Vipers do things."
"Great," Grant muttered. "And here I was thinking that things were finally calming down."
Briggs finally looked at Grant then, there was no anger in the expression, just resignation to dealing with the frustration of an upcoming wreck.
"I gave you yesterday off because I saw what you were doing to yourself," he said. "Running every, fixing everything you could touch, staying up late fiddling with those cards like the right draw might take you home."
Grant tensed, but didn't speak as Briggs continued.
"I figured maybe if you had a few hours to breathe, you'd stop pretending you could outrun whatever you're trying not to think about. And for what it's worth—lookin' at you now? I think it worked."
Grant exhaled finally. "It did, yeah."
"Good. Because now you've got another problem that needs thinking about."
He motioned toward the Viper tag with a grim expression. "We've worked hard to keep things civil with the Scorpions. That's not an easy thing to do in this part of the Sector, and it only works because they've got rules. Vipers?" Briggs shook his head. "They're like stray dogs that only know how to bite. Don't care about stepping into someone else's turf, or whose toes they stomp on, they're in it to cause trouble for its own sake."
Grant scratched at the back of his neck, frustration beginning to grow as he knew full well what had caused this. "Because I dragged that kid out of trouble."
"No," Briggs corrected him. "Because you made a fool out of one of their guys, and then that kid went and made sure everyone knew about it."
"…Great.."
They stood in silence a while longer, watching the painted sigil fade slowly into shadow as the sun dipped low behind the buildings.
Briggs eventually turned and started walking toward the workshop entrance. "We're not exactly defenseless. You've got a duel disk, and a few tricks now. I've got more than a few things in the back to protect the shop, and I'm not talking about tools. But this ain't something we can just wait out."
Grant's gaze flicked back to the fading light outside. He'd known this would catch up to him eventually, though part of him had hoped it might happen sooner. "Do you think they'll strike tonight?"
"They'll come when it's dark," Briggs said, then he paused, shoulders sagging slightly. "Listen—I gave you that route today for a reason. Not just to make you burn off some extra energy, I wanted to make sure you had your head clear."
Grant swallowed. "It is."
Briggs folded his arms again, studying him. "Good. Because tagging my shop like this means they've crossed a line, we've got a shaky truce with the Scorpions as is. Doing this is going to cause more than just a fight with us."
Grant nodded, running a hand through his hair. "I know, I caused the mess. I'll clean it up."
Briggs gave him a long look, half-skeptical, half-proud. "That's what you said about before you went and saved some brat."
Grant let out a rueful sigh. "Yeah, it didn't turn out perfect, but I couldn't just walk away."
The older man leaned back against the workbench. "I can't either, and now neither can you—not if you want to keep this place running and the people who rely on us safe."
Grant set his bike's helmet down and met Briggs' eyes. "What do we do?"
Briggs cracked his knuckles. "We prepare. I'll make sure to lock down the back exits, rig a few traps in case they want to try to be sneaky about this. Maybe get the Scorpions' word on a few extra eyes around here. And you? You'll be ready with that duel disk. If they show up to settle this with a fight, I want you standing in front of my door, not hiding behind it."
Grant felt a knot in his chest loosen into determination. He reached into his coat and palmed the worn deck box. "Got it, boss."
Briggs nodded once, resolute. "Good. Now go rest up for a bit. We're in for a long night."
As the workshop's lights flickered on, Grant glanced once more at the Viper symbol on the wall, a challenge, not just a warning. Then he followed Briggs inside.
He didn't know what Satellite was about to throw at him next, but he was done running.
Grant sat on the edge of the table, his hands buried in his deck box, shuffling through the cards with a now practiced ease The quiet hum of the workshop around him did little to settle his nerves. His mind was elsewhere, to focus on the Vipers' weight of the situation was becoming heavier as time ticked on. This felt like the calm before a storm, and Grant had no illusions about what would happen if it caught him unprepared.
His fingers paused over the cards again.
He had his Machine deck, he thought at first. In theory with Ultimate Offering he could go into combo after combo to lethal results. But that would need the right hand to be drawn. But that was where the problem stemmed from, the right hand being drawn. It was strong if he could get it going, but right now Grant refused to let everything ride on drawing exactly the one card he'd need to win.
No, he didn't need a random pile of machines reliant on managing to activate a single trap card right now. Even if he had spent time running through test hand after test hand, he never quite managed to get to Ultimate Offering quickly enough for it to matter. Without some of the bigger Machine cards out there, either his stolen Machina ones, or something similar to Ancient Gears, he needed something that wasn't as finicky at the moment.
His eyes immediately went to where he had separated the Scrap deck. It wasn't exactly the most overpowered of archetypes that could slap an infinite amount of cards down on the first turn, but it was far more consistent than a deck only linked by its Machine typing at the moment.
It didn't have the perfect amount of ratios for each card, but it was solid enough. And that was exactly what he needed right now.
Grant sighed and picked up the Scrap deck from where it lay, holding it in his hands for a moment. The reassuring weight of it was enough to steady his nerves, but he knew that whatever came next, he'd need more than just a good deck to make it through. He needed to be ready.
As he slid the deck into place on the patched together duel disk he called his own, he heard the familiar sound of the shops front door creeping open, he immediately put the rest of the cards away into the box, snapping the latch closed and returning it into the small niche he hid it in when he wasn't carrying it with him, sliding a footlocker as quietly into place over the spot as he could manage.
Then he listened.
The voice that greeted him was low, almost familiar. "Briggs? Are you here?"
Grant knew that voice. It belonged to one of the Scorpions that semi-frequented the store on occasion. He couldn't place a name at the moment, but the man had known Briggs for a while. The Scorpions and Briggs had an understanding of sorts, something that the Vipers most definitely did not have.
Briggs's voice came back from the back room, gruff and tired as always. "Yeah, I'm here. What's the news?"
There was a pause, followed by the sound of footsteps getting closer. Grant kept quiet as he inched towards his door.
"The Vipers are pushing harder," the Skorpion said, their tone laced with unease. "Whatever they have in-store for you,they're planning something bigger."
Grant's fingers dug into his palms, but he didn't move an inch. He needed to hear this.
"I've heard." Briggs replied, his voice carrying the weight of someone who had dealt with threats like this before. "The Vipers have always been nothing but trouble, but if they want to cause trouble, they're gonna have to get through a few people first."
The Scorpion's voice was tinged with skepticism. "This is different, they're acting differently, more organized. They've got to have something big planned. You're not going to be dealing with their usual thugs."
Grant felt a knot form in his stomach. The Vipers had always been dangerous, sure, but hearing that they were getting more organized, acting differently made his blood run cold. They weren't going to be content with just random violence anymore.
"You really think they'll crack down on me that hard?" Briggs asked, clearly unwilling to back down from the fight, even if it meant taking on the full force of the Vipers.
The Skorpion scoffed, but the bitterness in their tone was evident. "If you think they're just gonna let you keep running this shop without consequence, you're fooling yourself. They've got plans, Briggs. And if you're not careful, they'll make an example of you."
Grant's grip o tightened even further, the words hanging in the air like a fog he couldn't escape. So this wasn't just about humiliating that thug, at least not the entire reason for it. They were making some form of power play as well,and Grant had somehow found himself in the middle of it.
There was a brief silence before the Skorpion spoke again. "We'll be in touch but you'd better get things in order. They don't give second chances."
As the Skorpion left the workshop, Grant gathered himself, his thoughts clear. This was it, huh? Either he pulled through tonight or that was that. He already knew what to do, though.
He had already lost one home, and he wasn't about to lose a second one to some street gang thinking they could just do as they pleased.
He steeled himself, all the while managing to miss the fact that he had already admitted the fact that this place was his home now, whether he liked it or not.
Grant stood firm, his back to the door frame as the trio of Vipers slowly closed in. The air was thick with the usual grime and tension of Satellite, but this time, it was different. The Vipers were circling, trying to size him up, but Grant wasn't about to back down, he had already made his choice earlier. They came here for a confrontation, and he'd give them one.
The leader, tall and menacing with a crimson snake embroidered on his jacket, sized Grant up from head to toe, the corners of his mouth curling into a smug grin. "Well, well, the kid thinks he can just screw with the Vipers. Pretty bold," the leader said, voice dripping with disdain. His two lackeys hung back, casually scanning the area, clearly expecting things to get ugly, but neither of them moved forward yet.
"Yeah, just some kid huh? What's with them then, need an audience to cheer you on?"
There was a low chuckle from one of the lackeys, but the leader remained silent for a moment, clearly weighing his options. Grant could practically feel the tension rise, the leader debating whether to just take the opportunity to throw down. But then, something changed. The Scorpions had been hanging in the shadows, just far enough away to make it clear they weren't involved, but close enough to step in if things went south. The leader of the Vipers was no fool—he knew the Scorpions were watching. They weren't about to let this devolve into an all-out brawl.
Grant made the effort to appear relaxed, like his heart wasn't about to beat out of his chest from how hard it was thumping, waiting for the leader to make the first move. He had to let them push this in the right way and he knew they would. The leader was impatient, his eyes flashing with irritation as he stepped forward.
"You think you can walk out here and—" he started, but Grant cut him off, his voice steady.
"What's the matter," Grant taunted, letting the words hang in the air, the bait clear in his tone. "Scared that you can't handle a two-bit punk like me with just one guy?"
For a moment, the leader froze. The words clearly stung more than Grant had intended. A flicker of doubt crossed his face, but only for an instant. Grant could see it—he was trying to keep his cool, trying not to let it show that he had gotten under his skin. The leader's hand twitched, but then he hesitated, his gaze flicking to the two Scorpions across the street.
But Grant wasn't going to make this easy for him. He leaned forward slightly, a deliberately infuriating smug smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Don't tell me the great Vipers are afraid of some nobody."
The leader's lip curled. "What are you, a clown? You think you can just throw out some insults and I'll what? Just forget the humiliation from some uppity brat pulling one over on me? I don't have time for your nonsense."
Grant didn't back off, though. "No, but you'll listen to this. If I'm such a nobody, prove it. You and me, right here, right now. A duel. If you win, you can do whatever you want with the shop, whatever your little gang has in mind. But if I win? You'll back off and you leave us be. No more Viper interference, you'll take your boys and leave us alone, period."
The Viper leader's eyes narrowed, considering the offer. Grant knew he had the upper hand now. The taunt had worked, as childish as it was, he'd pushed the gang member into a corner. The leader wanted to appear tough, but he wasn't about to back down in front of his crew. And if there was one thing Grant had learned about Satellite, it was that pride often made people do dumb things.
"You're crazy," the leader finally spat, but the hesitation in his voice was telling. "Fine. You want to make it a bet, huh? I'll take you on, but don't think you're going to run away if you lose!"
Grant kept his face neutral, losing the smug aura just as quickly as he had gained it. "Wouldn't dream of it."
The Scorpions watching from the distance exchanged glances but didn't intervene. The leader of the Vipers had made the call. If he backed out now, his reputation would be shot. This was their way of determining dominance—an unwritten rule of Satellite.
The Viper leader slapped his duel disk onto his wrist, and the other two stepped aside, forming a loose circle as they watched. The air between them now crackled with tension.
"You ready to lose, kid?" the leader growled, activating his duel disk. "Gonna need more than a few pretty words to get out of this!"
Grant's hand hovered over his own deck, his fingers twitching in anticipation. "We'll have to see, huh?"
Grant's eyes sharpened as he activated his duel disk, there was no backing down now that he had made a choice. This was either where he proved himself in the eyes of Satellite, or ended up in some gutter without a chance to scrape his way out of it again.
All or nothing.
"Duel."/"Duel!"
