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TINKERS’ LAIR

Allen and Noel were welcomed by the sounds of clattering metal that resonated from machines—running online twenty-four-seven relentlessly. The echoing bells from cranes and smashers process parts non-stop like a hellish factory. Unlike the other yard that Allen occupied back then, this territory of Tinkers was filled with noise and heat. Tinkers’ Lair is the warmest place in the Underworld (fingers crossed).

We ventured through streams and vapors on the way down here and had seen so many steampunk dreams, an old-school technology displayed along the wall, but I would rather say it is ancient decoration. Just like a clockwork utopia, I almost see cogs and gears lined up like books in the library. Tick-tock's sound seems to annoy Noel; due to some reason, I could see some unease on her face, which she rarely expresses. She said nothing about her symptoms, but I am also aware that Noel is not in fully-recovery; the stimulant she took only cured a few injuries.

To be honest, those combat moves back then weren't at her full potential at all, which pretty much scares me. But I already set sail on this journey, so I will keep betting my fate on her. I’m not a believer, but since I'm already tied down to her, I hope there's nothing worse. Here, at Scavenger Bay or Scraper’s Haven, is an outlaw place with one of the harshest conditions in the Underworld. Raiding and marauding were considered common, a place where no law cast a shadow upon.

—Seemingly, the scavenger bay was not an ordinary place. But Allen has made himself at home in the environment already. It looks familiar to him; people also pay him respect, and Noel senses it. Yes, a fear indeed—that’s what her elder brother cast along the way with an armed axe in his unwavering hand.

As they walked through the Tinkers' Lair, Noel noticed that people kept their distance while also covering their behinds secretly. It has something to do with Allen’s reputation, but there's something else that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Noel decided to break the dead air.

“Why are they following you despite being intimidated, brother?” Asked Noel.

“I had done some merits here.”

“Surely, merit?”

Allen went silent. He intended not to answer Noel.

“—Long story, short. The gangster head here is Fawn’s brother.” Allen breaks Noel’s pressurized silence.

“How about the merits?”

“Will owe them another one soon.” Allen brandishes his hatchet-size Axe while finishing the talking. People had also known him as "The Axe-man" due to the silent gossip that Noel had overheard along the way. Cutting the bullet with a crescent axe-slash was his proof back then, which no ordinary human could do. So how much Allen had been training in combat?—Surely, it exceeds the level required on a daily basis in the Underworld.

Also, he embarrassed Noel with the phrase ‘You know, your smile is ugly’ after accidentally peeking at Noel’s bloodthirsty smile. She knew what he meant by merits, and surely Noel was the top-tier warmonger Apex had been searching for—for sure. Of course, she was really embarrassed for her unknowingly mischievous smugness because the smile looks like pure psycho. He also planned to put her on an ethnicity test after everything ended well. He looked over a little sweet-psycho walking in a dangerous place pleasantly. Despite the fact that their heights were identical—Noel is a low-key wrecking ball; unlike Allen, she will make things chaotic when the time is right—that’s what Allen bet. Hopefully, he will manage to cut-out her spotlights just in time.

After a short walk, they arrived at an unassuming workshop tucked away in a dimly-lit center area’s corner of the Scavenger Yard. The area was cluttered with gadgets and engines of all kinds, and in the center of the room, a group of tall figures were busy tinkering away at a large machinery core. Just as Noel was about to step further into the workshop, Allen raised his hand to stop her steps. She stared at him puzzlingly and asked him why he had brought her to this particular smithery.

Allen cleared his throat and yelled out loud like a taunt.

“Is the fancy-tattoo freak here?” Faces of blacksmiths (Tinkers) went pale after Allen’s shout; they stopped hammering their crude iron-symphony immediately. The blacksmiths looked at each other nervously, exchanging wary glances. One of them breaks the silence. “You shouldn't have said that, Allen.”

The one hidden in the shadow stepped forward out of his hideout, a burly man with dark skin and a tattoo on his bicep, saying: “Should have said what? Can anyone here repeat it?” All the blacksmiths straightened up in tension, negated to answer, where he continued: “In years, you became so rude, my man, Allen.” The fancy-tattoo-bicep man took out his sunglasses despite being in a dark place.

“Long time no see, Warren. With your fancy rainbows-over-the-kitty as usual.” Allen looked over an old-fancy-internet-meme tattoo over Warren’s arm. In return, Warren uncovered his coat, showing a glimpse of the gunsmiths compact arsenal he carried as a bluff. “—so, why are you here, Allen?”

Allen slowly disarmed himself, keeping his axe in his pocket. “There’s an outlaw stalking over us. Heard that he was one of your men.”

“Then your first suspicions are cast over me, my friend?” Warren slowly slides his hand over his coat’s pocket, remaining in his threatening posture while keeping his composure from Allen. The rest of the tinkers were readied at arms and waited only for Warren’s command.

“So why did you track us?” Noel steps out from behind Allen's back.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“Well some of my men saw you— Whoa—” Warren's voice trailed off suddenly, and his eyes widened in shock. Unable to find the right words to express his surprise and disbelief, Warren stepped into the siblings' circle, pointing at the young woman. “God—is that Noel? —Ha–H—How?”

Noel laughed out loud. “Hahaha—is that the ‘rainbow over the kitty’ you mean, brother?” She didn't expect the description Allen gave to be the lost-internet-meme ‘Nyan-cat’, hundreds of years forgotten, ignoring Warren’s question. But what she doesn’t know is that it was Warren's daughter’s favorite before she died in the incident, just like the real Noel.

The air went silent. Allen knew Warren's intent and further questions; of course he would deny all of them. ‘Hand over the girl, or tell me the secret of the resurrection?’ —Nonsense; he wouldn’t spare his time explaining his ex-traitor, Warren. Which—Warren knew Allen pretty well, action will speak louder than words, and it will authorize any deepest desire immediately at Victor's command. Warren and Allen were getting ready to charge at each other, and Noel unknowingly continued laughing to herself, tensing up the atmosphere.

Warren drew his pistol and began continuously shooting. “Capture them alive, boys.” But Allen’s lightning reflexes were fast enough; he rolled sideways and threw some dirt over Warren. He waved his hand, calling his hatchet. An axe he had was a decoy; the real hatchet is now traveling back to Allen, smashing a group of Tinkers along the way like a striking bowl on its way to Allen’s grip. He figured it out; it would have ended in violence, so Allen purposely dropped his unique weapon before entering the smithy, where he pulled it with a magnetic glove.

“Skip the harmless girl; focus on the Ax—” Noel’s flying kick studs over Warren's face with both of her feet hardcore-massing his cheeks, sending Warren flipped back to the ground without letting him finish his orders.

“I thought you mentioned the harmless girl.” Noel kicks herself, leaping back to Allen, where he grabs her hand and tosses her in Tinker's direction. “—Oops, kinda heavier than expected…” Allen mutters during his tossing swing. “You damn–Brothaa!!” Noel yelled pungently. Landing her kicks on Tinkers mercilessly, Noel projected her anger toward them furiously. “Indeed, heavy.” One of the smashed tinkers who had been drop kicked by her agreed. “Shut your damn mouth, I’m not heavy!” Noel knocked-out the blabbing-tinker with her heel alone, the cracking-bones sound paled out all men behind her. Her face turned red with the clenched fists she held, looking to storm out her adolescent frustration. No further criticism was mentioned afterwards.

“Alright, enough playing fellows, show them some real guns.” Warren spat out the blood; she seems to break some fragments of his tooth out. “That was a pretty damn heavy stud; weight alone wouldn’t—-” Noel ran across and jumped flying-scissors over Warren immediately. After locking his neck with her knee, she flipped him down and threw a few punches. While Allen was busy taking down armed tinkers, it was impossible to cover all of them. Some gun slipped out, pointing the laser mark over Noel’s face and unstoppably firing.

“Noel, Dodge!” It was too late; barrels had already ignited rapidly. Allen failed to warn his little sister over a swarm of penetrating leads. In milliseconds, those leads become glistering glitters—fracturing into a dust over the air as soon as it contacts Noel’s skin. ‘Anti-material armor, with that bare skin?’ Noel held no trick of disintegrating the contacting bullets. But, No. It wasn't an anti-material shell; her flesh was filled with translucent circuits, like some sort of energy running through her veins. Noel got carried away, and she looked back at Allen—trying to explain the incident, knowing of upcoming consequences. But she was thrown out off-guard while occupying her focus over Allen’s. Warren seized his chance to step back after throwing her away to his safe-distance.

“What the hell is up with this girl.” Warren stepped back. They realized that the bullets were instantly crushed by an unknown-repulsive force upon contacting Noel’s skin, which makes her bulletproof. Allen too, when Noel walks toward him, he takes his step back unconsciously. —And then another step back. *Cracking noise, along with man’s girlish scream*

Allen accidentally stands one-legged on Tinker's crotch. “Ohh, sorry—no more lead generations, huh?” Gangs of tinkers were still charging over him, so he dodged down and twisted his ankle to spin-kick as a counter. “—Scrambling the egg.” Allen took his step out, but the club swings in front made him lean ninety-degree backward, stomping on the Tinker’s spot again. “Nutcrackers—!” He hastily stepped out as soon as the swing passed his face. Allen pushed his kick over the attacker and landed his foot in the same location it had been, leaving his final words: “But this one is personal. No hard feelings?” He takes his foot out. It was the same tinker who teased Noel about her weight, assuming that Allen was the only person who could tease her.

Both of their backs contact each other. “Hope you will explain furthermore about yourself after this, Noel.” Said Allen.

“Thank you for forgiving me, brother.” They were covered by a swarm of robots, a group of battle-droids that Warren called as backup during his short disappearance. All the lasers pointed at Allen, despite the fact that Noel was bulletproof and Allen wasn’t. Allen, looking all over the barrels that were directed to him, never thought that Warren would collect battle droids for this long. So this was Warren’s purpose in setting up this workshop over in the yard?

“The playtime is over. Boy and girl.” The shout came from above; a man stood over the throne on top of the smithery yard, a bright spotlight casting over Warren as he wielded a terminal-console. Allen slowly raises his hands, surrendering.

“I heard that you retrieved a strange Automata back then, Allen. Meanwhile, Apex has been searching for something ever-since.” Said Warren, he slowly walked down the stairs while the spotlight still cast him along the way, acting cool with his sunglasses. “My terms are really simple; you tell us where’s that damn-Automata, and leave her here alone.” Warren rumbled down the cloth, revealing a special robot with beam-firing equipment that could possibly get through anti-bullet protection.

“Alright, you win. But one thing, she wasn't an Automata.” Said Allen.

“She?—” Warren turned his gaze back to Noel and started connecting the dots. “So this thing is . . . I see, so this is a monster, not your sister.” He drew his gun, redirecting, and pointed it at Noel.

A mere girl said nothing, but menacing grins over her cheeks communicated something. “You sure are pushing me hard, mortals. I'm neither of those." The girl laughs menacingly.

“So what are you, Miss?” Warren commands all the guns and turrets to target Noel.

Noel releases a deep breath. Controlling her temper and putting all her nerves together to make her last polite communication, she looks down and says,

“We called ourselves The Conductor; we ran armies of the Apex.”

She raises her chin like otherworldly gods towering above, looking up into Warren's eyes.

“We’re something more powerful than any Seekers of Apex’s. Something unimaginable to all fools like you.”

Lastly, she flicks her finger, evoking a resonance sound. Her eyes gleamed in vivid crimson sparks, releasing a pulse of electric shockwaves all over the place.

“So—I will shatter all thine for your coxcombical sins.”

In an instant, all of the droids’ eyes and circuits turned a bloody-red color, just like Noel’s sparks. Every gun’s barrel, one by one, started marching itself over Warren and his fellow, locking on its prey unhesitatingly. Everyone was shocked while Noel gave a speech about her last warning and raised her hand to the sky like a messenger of the gods.

“We’re not lowly Automata. But Maestro—the conductor of all kinds of Nightmares.” Noel's superiority has frozen all living-thoughts in a permafrost state of mind—timelessly. She dominates all mortals with the overwhelming power she holds and constrains them by binding their instincts to fear of her. Allen became speechless in his void, as it is a point of no return for everything.

“Never, ever, lay hands on my Allen.” Noel glares with a deadly stare.