Victor drummed his fingers across the counter as he gazed distantly out the store window, the flooded streets spread out below him. A mishmash of crumbling tenements, hastily built docks, and houseboats converted from all manner of floating detritus. The roofs of the crumbling buildings covered in the greenery of impromptu farms linked together by rickety catwalks constructed from little more than scrap metal, driftwood, and hope.

The Capes had tried to drain the water from the city’s original streets, but the ocean always reclaimed the areas closest to the coast one way or another. Eventually the capes and their engineers threw in the towel and shifted the focus to the wealthier sections of the city interior. Almost as soon as they left enterprising individuals started building on the marshy terrain, or rather, above the terrain.

Once upon a time the real estate developers and businessmen may have kept trying to dry out the once lucrative coastal property, but when all it takes is one lunatic with super strength or a telekinetic with a grudge to blow up a sea wall the value of the land plummeted. It was that frenzied sell off that gave Victor the opportunity to open a storefront in honest to god New Columbia, meta capital of the world.

Opening the Tech and Repair, or T&R as he called it, had seemed like such a good plan back then. Victor had already been a somewhat well know Meta tech Scavenger, so parlaying that good will into a resale and repair outfit seemed like a great way to make more money without having to worry about his bones being turned to lead by a piece of half-baked meta tech made by some lunatic thinking he’s going to be the next Technos. Instead, he’s barely getting by, stuck sifting through the aftermath of gang brawls after store hours hoping to scrape together enough usable components to work with.

Too busy mentally bemoaning his mistakes, Victor failed to notice the men making their way through the front door.

“Victor, so glad we were finally able to catch you while you’re open!” Victor recognized the speaker almost immediately, considering he’d been actively avoiding the man for the better part of four days. Shiv wasn’t a naturally large man, but in his large brown boots, jeans, and black workman’s coat Victor felt as if he was staring death itself in the eyes.

After taking a moment to steady himself after the surprise of seeing gangsters in his store Victor managed to sputter a response. “Hey Shiv, what brings you and the crew by the T&R this fine afternoon? I just got some new plating inserts finished if you’re looking to trade up to something with a bit more protection” Victor said, gesturing at the beat-up workman’s coat adorning Shivs narrow shoulders.

“Pretty sure you already know why I’m here Vic” Shiv said with a sly grin “Junkie wants his payment for keeping your store standing this month”

While Shiv spoke, his men began to filter out through the store and beyond Victor’s line of sight, although he wasn’t dumb enough to think they wouldn’t come running at the first sign of resistance. This thinly veiled extortion had been a monthy occurance ever since Victor had set up shop in the Stilts, and Victor usually ducked the usual goons for a few weeks each month before they finally pinned him down. This time was different though, he could tell that if he didn’t cough up something this was going to end poorly for him.

Problem was Victor didn’t have enough money to both pay Shiv and continue operations, so if he wasn’t able to strike some sort of deal he’d be right back where he was after he graduated. Victor would not, could not, be forced out of his store. If he lost the store he’d be forced to go crawling back to his family, begging for his old job back. With a mental curse and a hearty gulp, Victor took a gamble.

“I don’t have the money Shiv.”

Shiv gave Victor a look of mock surprise and an exaggerated gasp. “You don’t have the money?” Shiv exclaimed “But you’re clearly such a successful small business owner!” Shiv said as he gestured around the dank and poorly lit interior of the T&R.

“I don’t have the money,” Victor repeated “But if you’re willing to let the protection payments slide, I can offer certain services instead” Victor whispered, hoping his secretive tone would enflame Shiv’s curiosity.

Victor gave a mental cheer as Shiv drew closer and shifted his hand away from the large hunting knife Victor knew was hidden in his coat. Victor knew this was what Shiv’s boss, Junkie, really wanted. Although he tried to keep it quiet, Victor had a high enough intelligence to be classified as a meta. Although the difference between an everyday smart person and someone with meta intelligence was often blurry. The deciding factor was usually the ability to create and repair what the government referred to as “anomalous technology” and what everyone else just called meta-tech. Victor had made the mistake of repairing a pair of AR glasses a customer had brought in without realizing it was meta.

Afterword had made its way back to Junkie, he immediately tripled Victor’s protection payments, claiming that having so many valuables in one place generated a higher risk for him and his gang. It was all a load of shit of course, Junkie just wanted Victor to make weapons for his crew so they could drive out some of the weaker players in the Stilts and sure up the gang’s position. Problem was that if some random gang suddenly started strutting around with arc rifles and particle cannons the first-place people were going to look would be at the guy in town reselling meta tech. It was one of the main reasons why Victor had tried to make the raised payments for so long, even if he knew making them would be nigh impossible.

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But now it was either make meta-tech weapons for Junkie or lose the store and go crawling back to his family, and there was no way in hell Victor was going back to his family.

“How about I throw together some gear for you and the gang,” Victor said, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice “Nothing crazy enough to draw the Capes down on you, but good enough to give Gator and his crew second thoughts about trying to muscle you guys out of the Stilts”

Victor watched as Shiv considered his offer, and he had to bite his tough to keep himself from shaking as he waited for an answer.

Mentioning Gator and his guys was another risk. It was well known that Junkie had been losing ground in the Stilts to Gator, with word going around that Shiv had to bail on a job after getting thrashed by one of Gator's creations. It wasn’t like Victor blamed the guy. Word was Gator’s power could alter alligators’ bodies, with some truly terrifying results. Fighting a nine-foot-tall bipedal mutant alligator strong enough to rip a sedan in half sounded like something straight out of Beowulf. This imbalance in firepower had to be making Junkie nervous, and it was likely the reason why Junkie had sent Shiv to coerce Victor into making weapons.

After what felt like an eternity Shiv barked “Fine, but we’re going to need some proof that you can actually provide what you say you can” Shiv’s scowl turned to a Cheshire grin as he continued “Bring some samples along with you to Junkie’s place next Saturday, and if they’re up to snuff we’ll see what we can do about your outstanding balance”

It wasn’t until Shiv’s men had completely dispersed from the store that Victor allowed himself to relax his body. What the fuck had he gotten himself into? Gator was seriously bad business; the kind of wannabe supervillain that almost inevitably ends their career by bringing down the Capes on their head. Not to mention he’d be putting meta weaponry in the hands of small-time gangsters like Shiv. Giving particle cannons to people who hadn’t even graduated from high school sounded like a bad idea just about any way you spun it.

Despite the almost overwhelming temptation to go upstairs and collapse into bed, the urge not to be gutted by Shiv or torn in half by Junkie proved to be a powerful motivator. Flipping the store sign from open to closed, Victor pulled the security barriers down over the windows, locked the register, and activated the T&R’s meager security system. After turning off the last of the lights Victor made his way into the back of the store where he kept his workshop.

If Victor had to describe his workshop, he’d have to go with “organized chaos.” Victor’s workshop was really little more than a backroom where he happened to store his repair equipment. Victors’ workbench spanned the length of the wall and had no less than three ongoing projects spread out across its length. The remainder of the room was strewn with various components and whatever tools Victor had been able to scrape together on his shoestring budget. Hidden away in the far corner of the workshop was a half-finished suit of hazmat armor that Victor had been building on and off for a few years now. The idea was to make something to protect himself from explosions and radiation while he scavenged battlefields, but he kept expanding the scope of the project until eventually Victor scrapped the concept entirely.

If he was to be completely honest with himself Victor was giddy to be making weapons once more. He had sworn off the practice after striking out on his own; a final act of enduring spite against his family. Now faced with the prospect of once again plying his grim trade Victor had expected to feel defeated, as though he had picked up drinking once again after years of sobriety. He was alarmed to find that below that feeling of defeat, a savage glee was building within him as well.

Not for the first time, Victor made a mental note to get in touch with a therapist and then sat down at his computer to start designing something with the stopping power to take down Gator’s mutants. Metas with the ability to control a certain type of animal weren’t exactly rare, but being able to alter their genetic makeup indicated Gator was an order of magnitude above that level. The only other meta with an ability like Gator’s Victor could think of was Houndmaster. He was known for the mutated dogs that followed him into battle, but he was never joined by more than a handful.

After a cursory google search Victor learned species-control Metas like Gator usually had an increasingly difficult time controlling their creations the more modifications they made to them. That meant Gator was likely limited in just how powerful he could make his creations, although where his limits actually lay was a mystery to Victor.

Shifting his focus back to the matter at hand Victor started trying to narrow in on what type of weaponry he was going to provide. At first glance force projectors seemed like the answer thanks to their high stopping power, but finding the components needed at a reasonable cost would be impossible within his time frame. Laser weaponry was cheaper to build, but often proved to be too anemic in handheld form to justify over an old-fashioned gun. This could be avoided by using gamma lasers, or gasers, but those things were only safe to use if you and everyone you aren't shooting at are wearing full radiation suits.

Victor eventually settled on rail rifles thanks to their relatively low cost and high stopping power. Rail rifles would also cut down on the amount of manufacturing Victor had to do, as he could just modify some existing surplus rifles rather than build from scratch. With a rough plan hammered out and some preliminary designs together Victor finally felt comfortable enough to call it a night and get some rest.