I woke up feeling uncomfortably good. There had to be some severe injustice in the world if I were to get the snot beat out of me by a meguca and then rise in the morning feeling refreshed. I definitely deserved feeling like shit, because there was a not-ignorable part of me wishing I could just stay in bed and wait out the clock. Maybe if I just slept for the next 72 hours, I’d wake up and it would all be solved.
Unfortunately, today was not going to be a good day, and all the energy welling up within me was oozing out as a nervous frustration that made it impossible to stay in bed. It took all of five minutes before I dragged myself out of the bed and into the shower. I was too nervous for even my thoughts to remain still, I cobbled together whatever I could regarding this final day of preparation.
Quinn was working on the datapad, so I was effectively completely AFK. More so than I’d been without my neuralink. Was it unfair that the online world was looking progressively more alien the more I looked back on it? There were billions of people talking and using tools I had no access to, I could barely scrape at the surface through a terminal, and that was about it.
But that was a concern for another time.
Today was going to be busy.
Kali aside, I had one more goal in mind: shopping. There’d been one thing I hadn’t considered last night, that Shadow had mentioned she’d be gone for 48 hours. That would be 48 hours she would not spend (potentially) spying on my every move. That left me with several possible options that relied on trusting she wasn’t keeping an eye on me. But at this point I was willing to take the risk.
There was one more thing I’d been worrying over, and that I definitely did not know how to address: The system was still out.
The system’s presence was something I deemed crucial. Even if I could potentially transform without it, I was also quite certain that the lack of aid could create far too much room for error. In a way, it was as if a digital artist that’d been forced to drop AI assistants and advanced tools in favor of creating pictures one pixel at a time and unable to zoom out until it was finished.
I’d tried sitting down, crossing my legs, and “focusing inward”, but that’d been about as useful as trying to taste my way through the darkness. There was a definite sense of “something” within me, that something that’d allowed me to turn back on my own, that had also allowed me to control my “malleable” enhancement. A part of me was sorely tempted to poke, but I knew all too well what happened when you poked at scabs.
Better wait for as long as I could, hopefully the system would get well by tomorrow.
“Good morning, Axel Garcia!” Barb’s scratchy speaker voice greeted me, waving her animatronic arm. “There is an 80% likelihood of rain today! It is not advised to go outside unless you are fully impermeable!”
“Erm… thanks Barb.” I waved back, then slowed for a moment. Maybe today she was in a better state? “Do you know what an…” I checked my notes. “...‘FREX-V00454-TX regex-error’ is?” I asked, hoping that her answer might clue me in on whether it was a piece of hardware, software, or what.
“It is necessary.”
I stared, waiting for her to elaborate. She didn’t. “Would you happen to know, roughly, how much it costs?”
“Five thousand two hundred thirty nine and forty eight crows.”
“Crows? Or credits?”
“I do not like feathers.”
Though normally I’d believe this meant she had intended to say ‘credits’, I was mostly certain the AI had lost track of the conversation’s origin. I nodded along. “Thanks for the… answers, I guess.”
“Have a great day, Axel Garcia!” She waved robotically as I stepped outside.
The day was pleasantly cloudy, and though normally I’d go to the internet shop to get myself some directions and plan the route, today I had a chauffeur. I approached the car, spotting Isia inside, arms folded over her chest and snoring lightly. A light knock on the window had her jolting up, drawing her gun, and half-way to taking aim before stopping herself and glaring. It wasn’t Isia’s car though.
“Willingly waking up at six in the morning when you could sleep in is insane.” She proclaimed, grumbling.
“If driving me around is a hassle, I could just-”
“No, no, get on.” She unlocked the doors. “Where to?”
“First stop is somewhere that might be able to do commissioned pieces of metal. Not scrapyard quality either, it needs to be graphenium-tungstate, or of a quality approximating that.”
“What the fuck is graphe-oh… oh.” Her gaze flickered as she was reading something. “That shit’s expensive, we’d need second-district levels of cash.”
Graphenium-tungstate was the sort of material perfect for high-performance combat drones. Incredibly durable and light-weight, it was the stuff used to make AV’s. Its utility as armor was questionable, especially when there were more advanced meta-materials that could do the job. But even with how expensive the thing was, it was still the cheaper option for what I had in mind.
“I’ve got a heavy wallet and a willingness to burn it all before I potentially die.” I replied in a deadpan, strapping myself in preparation for the ride.
“You’re the boss.” She made a half-assed salute and the autopilot engaged.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
I frowned. “Autopilot? Did you finally-”
“It’s punishment.” She crossed her arms harder, reclining and turning away. “Vesper’s pissed I made us a fortune.”
The frown deepened. “Somehow, I don’t believe you.”
“I took the gang’s funds and bet them all on you winning. And you did.” Isia let out an exaggerated groan. “With just a snap of my fingers I went and multiplied our funds by fifty, and Vesper couldn’t shut up about ‘responsibility’ this and ‘insanely risky’ that. Come on! We were one bad day away from-”
Eyes wide, I stared at her in disbelief. “Isia.” I spoke calmly. “You bet all of the cash the gang had available. On me. On the fight I was fighting for a chance at saving my life. All of it, everyone’s livelihood, even my own. You bet that? THAT is what you bet!?” My voice hitched near the end, frowning and glaring and gritting my teeth.
Also, fifty to one odds!?
“Uh… sorry?” She’d shrunk into her seat a little, squirming.
Swallowing my frustration, rubbed my let out a sigh. “Just… ugh, forget it.” Turning to look out the window, I grumbled. I was nervous about this whole thing, and it was showing. “At least tell me the bookie’s use conditions didn’t have some clause about being able to withhold collection on rewards for up to a month or somesuch.”
There was a pause, a long silence, and I turned to look at her as she had that far-distant look in her eyes whenever she was reading something in her neuralink. There was a very soft gasp, and eyes widening in what could only be horror.
“You didn’t,” I said in a low voice.
“Erm…” She squirmed. “We… might have a bit of a problem?” Immediately, she raised her hands. “Please don’t tell Vesper! She’ll literally kill me!”
“I don’t need to. She’ll find out the moment she tries to pay for anything.” I replied harshly. “Do you realize how stupid that was? Not just doing the bets with all of the gang’s funds, but not even reading the legalese!? What were you thinking!?”
Somehow, she shrunk further into the seat, almost as if about to get swallowed up by the cracked synthleather. “If you lost that fight, the gang would’ve been done for one way or the other. The Paws’ would’ve gotten everything out of us.” She declared, barely a whisper. “It would’ve taken longer, maybe weeks, months, dunno, we’d bleed out what few members remained. So I just thought, ‘screw it, either we win big or give them nothing’.”
I glared.
“And we won! You won, and it was the coolest, most badass moment to just see you clock that gonk and send her flying. And this would finally fix everything, except I just fucked up and… and…”
I really really wanted to tell her again how that didn’t make what she’d done any less stupid. Or the thousand and one ways this could’ve gone not just badly but worse. Instead, I relented, sinking into my seat and glaring at the ceiling for several moments.
“Just… make a stop in whatever electronic store is nearest. Quinn’s got my datapad so I’m going to need a screen and internet access… you’re paying for those by the way.”
“But a mobile non-neuralink data-plan is so expensive!”
I glared harder.
She shrunk, giving some noncommittal mumbling of agreement. “And I’m only helping because my paycheck is at stake,” I said. “That, and I don’t have anything better to do while in the car.” Well, I did have a few things I’d be able to do, but that would require the datapad and mobile internet access Isia was now oh-so-generously supplying.
There were some non-proprietary designs I needed to look over.
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Paying subscription and access fees to a database of 3D models and their AI assistant?
> 150$
Even though it allowed me to commission several pieces for digital models, it was still very much a ripoff. The AI wasn’t the best of the bunch, certainly not capable of handling advanced or overly complicated designs. Fortunately, I wasn’t looking for anything overly complicated, rather, what I was looking for was a base object that could potentially be further modified by the ones with better tools and experience.
The whole process took less than an hour.
Having happily prepared the details of what I’d hand over to the metal-workers (and hopefully saving myself several hours of work), I turned to the mess Isia had gotten herself into. Not like I had anything better to do while stuck in traffic, anyway.
“So… how bad is it?”
“It’s bad.” I replied dryly. “There’s a dozen gotcha-clauses in here. Even if we remove the potential month-long wait, they could just declare themselves insolvent and throw back 75% of what you bet.” I waved at the document. “This is such an abusive set of conditions that I’d have to wonder how no one’s made a big problem out of this.”
“Probably gang protection.” She dejectedly sank into the seat. “I’m thinking of going over there and shooting them. Think that might work?”
“Don’t kill people.” I declared flatly. “We don’t need to resort to violence.”
Isia’s lips curled. “Well, if you’ve got a solution that won’t cost me a bullet or twelve, I’m listening.”
“From what I can tell, the legalese in this is bog-standard copy-pasted, which makes me think they might not be the ones actually handling the money.” I scratched my cheek. “My bet is that there’s someone further up the ladder we could contact.”
“But the contract-”
“Doesn’t matter.” I waved her off. “Well, it matters, because it’s a foot on our metaphorical neck. But if the one with the money tells the bookie to fuck off, I doubt they’d have much of an option. We’d just be going in at a disadvantage.”
Isia straightened up a little. “Oh great! Then we could just head-on ov-”
“No.” I cut her off harshly. “It’s not even been a full day. For all we know, they could just pay up without a problem in the next day or two.”
It was unlikely, seeing how skeevy the contract was, but it wasn’t impossible either. Isia WAS part of a gang, and a gang on loosely friendly terms with the Paws. That might count for something at the end of the day, honor among bandits and all that.
She grimaced. “But if Vesper finds out-”
“Then I’ll bring flowers to your funeral.” I shrugged, enjoying her despair a little. “I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not. I’m kind of on a time limit right now, that's why I asked for the ride in the first place, quicker and easier than lugging around stuff on the bus.”
Isia’s look was a despondent one, and I would’ve felt pity if she hadn’t earned every bit of it. “I guess that’s fair, sorry for being such a gonk.” She grumbled and turned to look at me. “What’re you planning anyway that you’d need a ride?”
“I’m just thinking of some special tools.”
It was one thing I’d been thinking about a lot. One of the things that made my current strength effective against monsters were the crowbars and pipes I wielded. They were a force multiplier, allowing me to hit harder and with less risk to myself. And in the event of an emergency, I could always pull out the Bulstra for a quick shot or finisher.
What tools did I have as a monster? It wasn’t like the Bulstra was a weapon I could wield when my hands were freakishly large and (sometimes) devoid of thumbs.
So what would happen if I had a force multiplier available in my monster form too?
Hopefully it could be enough to make the playing-field a bit less skewed.