While they waited for the 3D printer to finish going through its first run, Deckard sent a live stream of all the data its sensors were collecting to the desk computer. Trace had only run through the ‘Enhanced Intermediate Programming’ a few times, so he couldn’t understand everything perfectly. However, he was getting the general gist of the information.

The programming Deckard had done was good, but the sensors and CPU were having some issues. They were identifying everything, calculating the stream, and then determining where each section of the mixed fluid needed to be deposited as it went past. It wasn’t something that the device had been made to do.

The normal function of the modded intake tray was simply to allow someone to throw in a chunk of metal and use it, instead of depending on a pre-made spool. What Deckard was having it do was far beyond its normal use case and specs.

“This is incredible, but it looks as though it’s having problems working through the increased computational load,” Trace muttered as he took in the information and compared it to the increasingly jerky movements of the printhead.

Deckard’s avatar clicked its tongue as it killed the sorting part of the process. A stream of liquid metal ran out of the printhead onto the platter beneath it. Emptying everything that had been in the intake hopper in one continuous go.

“I’ll have to redo the programming I had running that part of the part. With the server available and all the specs I have on the 3D printer, I’ll be able to run any future tests in a virtual environment. Give me a few days and this should be back up and running, properly this time.”

“Thanks, Deckard. This will be a lot of help going forward.” The biggest issue Trace was facing at the moment was money. Whether it was better teaching modules, cyberware, equipment, or materials, they all cost credits. Something that had a bad habit of vanishing just as quickly as he got it.

His skills were finally starting to increase, but along with them was the need for money.

Trace left Deckard to his project, while he sank into the depths of his enhanced teaching modules. He spent some time on the virtual gun range, switching between a few different weapons. His aim was slowly starting to get better. He was still no deadshot, but he wouldn’t be missing the target either.

The majority of his time on the virtual range was spent with the scout and sniper rifles. There was something there that he felt he was missing. He had the posture down, and it wasn’t correcting him on anything. Despite that, there was a lingering feeling that he was missing something. So, he kept practicing whenever he had the chance.

Then he would move on to other subjects, such as knives, electrical engineering, mechanical engineering, or the newest one to join the lineup, system breaching. He would spend some time in each of them before going to sleep, or throughout the day when he had the chance.

It was tiring, and his brain hurt from all the learning, but he also felt more alive than ever before.

By the time he had finished running through them all, Monroe had almost finished for the day.

“How much time will you need to finish up the roof with what I got here?” Trace asked him as he cleaned up.

“Another two full-days and then a couple of hours on a third for cleanup work should do it. Less if I can get everything in position and cut quicker, those two things are what have been taking the longest so far.”

“Alright,” Trace waved him over to the tables outside the apartment, where he leaned against it. “I was thinking about what you said the other day, and I wanted to discuss a few things with you about it.”

Monroe nodded and sat on top of the table, the legs underneath groaning a bit. “I figured as much. Let me guess, you’re looking to create your own team?”

Trace laughed. “Do I look like the type of person who should be in charge of a team of people? No. I’m looking for a partner who can have my back on larger jobs. Someone with a large vehicle and can help me strip a place to the ground for maximum profit when we hit certain locations.”

The big man rolled his eyes. “So, a two-person team, then?”

“Ugh, fine. Call it what you want. Make up names and random designations if you really want to.” Trace said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

A booming chuckle rolled through the air. “I’ve always avoided teams in the past. They interfered too much with my work as a welder.” He sighed and ran a calloused hand over his recently sanitized bald head. “That was in the past though. Despite how dirty and hard the work is, I enjoy it. Unfortunately, it just doesn’t pay as well as it did even a few years ago.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“The corporations are squeezing everybody who doesn’t work for an affiliate out of business. I have a bottle of gas in there.” He pointed his thumb at Black Betty. “That cost me three times the original bottle, just to refill it a month ago, and word is they’re going to raise prices again. I can’t afford to pay my bills doing what I like anymore.”

“That’s why you became an edger?”

Monroe shook his head and tapped his cyberware arm. “A story for another time, perhaps. I’ve been an edger for years. It’s simply the reason I’ve needed to become more active again lately.”

“Understandable. We each have our own reasons for doing what we do. Either way, if you are interested in doing this, then we need to work a few jobs together before getting that truck. Get to know each other better, and make sure we can actually stand one another for more than a few minutes at a time.”

“You done this before?”

“Nope, but I’ve talked to Stick-Point about how these sorts of things work enough that his advice has gradually wormed its way inside my brain.”

“Stick-Point, huh? He’s a bit of a more high-end job broker than I was expecting you to be associated with.”

Trace shook his head. “I use everyone. Stick-Point… I guess you could call him my primary, but that is only because he’s the one who helped me first. He introduced me to the life when I was nothing more than a starving street-meat. He pushed me and was the one to show me that there was more to life than searching for scraps in the gutter. Because of the association between us, I can’t use him for jobs too often.”

The conversation between the two gradually shifted to different topics, before Monroe slapped his thighs and declared that it was time for him to leave.

Staring around the warehouse, Trace noticed for the first time how dim inside it was. It had never been an issue before then because of all the holes in the roof. Now that they were getting fixed, the light from above was disappearing.

His eyes would still be able to compensate for the lack of light, but that might not be the case for Ko, or Monroe’s eyes. He would need to get new lights for the inside of the warehouse soon. Yet another item on his growing list of things to do.

***

The next day found Trace at the clinic with Ko at his side as they worked their way through the collection of cyberware parts in stock. They finally had a chance to discover how one went about building a database of information on the devices. It was a mixture of their eyes, and the nanites, which meant it was fairly slow. Thankfully, as long as they were close enough together, they could share the results of their database. Something they wouldn’t have been able to do otherwise.

None of that was helpful for them at the moment, but it was something that needed to be done for the future.

When Trace was done with that, he wandered out and found Pushman just staring blankly at the wall. Physically, he was ready to go back to his apartment. Mentally, he had all but given up.

Sitting down on the edge of the man’s bed, Trace couldn’t help but feel annoyed.

“You know I have gone over to your apartment and stolen pretty much every modular and weapon you had over there. I’ve even taken more than a few of your clothes.”

There was a small reaction as he turned to look at Trace, but didn’t say anything.

“Nothing huh, I guess your sister didn’t mean that much to you after all.” That did it. Pushman exploded into a rage and lunged at him.

Trace slid off the bed and danced out of the man’s reach, keeping him moving, and not letting him rest.

“What am I wrong? You experienced one little setback and just gave up like it was nothing? Are there no other options in life? Has no one else ever been hurt by one of these companies?”

Ko had arrived moments earlier and stopped Sevorah from stepping in when she heard him say that. An inkling of where he was going with this began to worm its way into her mind.

“Do you honestly think you’re the only one who wants to hurt them?” Trace roared as he tripped Pushman and shoved him to the floor. “We saw the plans you had made. Do that for someone else!”

“What do you want from me?” Pushman wheezed. “Do you want me to become a job broker or something?”

Trace stilled and slowly nodded. “I was just thinking of a planner for teams looking to hit corporations. But yeah, why not? There’s an opening at the moment.”

“What? Who died?” Sevorah asked from the doorway.

“Jonas the Slick, he was caught passing information that he shouldn’t have been, and…” Trace ran a hand across his throat symbolically.

The brief little jaunt around the room had taken all the energy out of Pushman. The two menders quickly hooked him back up to the machines that would help him breathe and regulate his heartbeat.

“I’ll… ne-need… to think… about… what… you said,” He managed to gasp out after several tries.

Trace nodded and turned away.

“Did you… really… take… everything?”

“Didn’t seem like you were going to use it again.”

“Bastard.”

Trace chuckled and left the room.

Ko came up behind him and hit him on the arm. “What were you thinking? Do you have any idea how close he was to having a heart attack just now?”

“No, and I wouldn’t have cared,” He told her defiantly. “I don’t know how you do it. I’ve only had to see the guy a few times and already I was ready to flatten him.”

“Yes, why did you react that way?” Sevorah demanded from behind him.

Trace swallowed and turned around. “Err, hi Sev-orah, how are you doing today?”

“Answer the question.” Her foot began tapping on the floor impatiently.

“What do you know about Pushman?” He asked her after a moment.

Sevorah blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the question. “What? You mean his personal life? Next to nothing, you two have let one or two things slip, but that’s it. Why?”

Trace shared a look with Ko, who gave a small nod. “His sister worked for Sekmore Snak-Co. She was poisoned while working for them, and he had come up with what looked like a decent plan to get revenge and do a fair bit of damage to them. A few weeks ago, she abruptly died on the operating table, and he went berserk, threw the plan away, and simply attacked them in a frontal assault.”

The senior mender glanced back at the room and sighed. “You were hoping he would be able to use that same expertise and come up with a plan for Siren’s Rush. Weren’t you?”

“The thought had crossed my mind a time or two,” He admitted.

“Fine, I want to see them to pay just as much you, or Ko do at this point. If you are going to use the poor man like this, make sure that he gets his own revenge as well at some point.”