The interior of the scrap shop was a chaotic mess, a stark contrast to the sleek and pristine establishments of Horizon Heights. Rusted workbenches lined the stained walls, cluttered with scattered blueprints, half-dismantled machines, and piles of scrap metal. Faint traces of oil and burnt circuits clung to the air, mixing with the scent of dust and old copper.
Above them, chalkboards were covered in hastily scribbled equations and faded schematics, some of which had long been smudged beyond recognition. A lone ceiling fan, its blades barely hanging on by layers of peeling duct tape, creaked weakly as it spun, struggling against years of neglect.
Kite and Olive approached the worn-out makeshift counter at the end of the dimly lit room. Their footsteps echoed against the metal flooring, filling the shop with the rhythmic tapping of soles against steel. The eerie silence only made the place feel even more abandoned.
“Hello?” Kite called out, his voice breaking the quiet as he reached for a small golden bell on the counter and gave it a firm ring. The chime barely had time to fade before the silence returned, thick and unyielding.
The two of them waited. Olive tilted her head, eyes drifting up toward the dusty, grease-stained menu hanging overhead. “Maybe they’re busy tonight?” she mused, her voice light with curiosity.
Kite glanced around at the empty shop, noting the thick layers of dust settled over untouched tools and machinery. He let out a small chuckle. “Yeah, I don’t know about that.”
Before Olive could reply, a sudden, deafening BOOM shattered the silence. The walls trembled slightly, sending loose bolts and screws clattering to the floor.
“Ah!” Kite yelped, stumbling backward in alarm. Olive, however, remained completely unfazed. Instead, she let out a lighthearted laugh, amused by Kite’s reaction. “Jumpier than I expected,” she teased.
Before Kite could muster a retort, hurried footsteps echoed from the back of the shop. An old, frail man emerged from the smoke-filled doorway, frantically batting at a small flame that had ignited in his wild, unkempt white hair. His thick, round glasses were lopsided, their cracked lenses reflecting the dim glow of the shop’s flickering lights.
His wrinkled face bore oil stains, and he wore a battered brown trench coat with multiple scorch marks, layered over a grease-streaked mechanic’s jumpsuit. Fingerless gloves covered his calloused hands, the fabric worn thin from years of tinkering with scrap.
“Oh… come on, Rose…” he groaned, still trying to catch his breath. “I told you not to touch that button!” His voice carried a mix of exasperation and resignation as he turned toward the smoke-filled room behind him.
A mischievous giggle echoed from the back. Then—BOOM! Another explosion rocked the shop, this time accompanied by the sharp whistle of something launching at high speed.
“Whoa!” Kite barely had time to duck before a small rocket whizzed past him, nearly taking off a chunk of his hair.
Olive, still utterly unbothered, simply watched with an amused smirk as the chaos unfolded. “Coming through, old man!” a gleeful voice rang out.
From the smoke, a little girl shot into the room, riding atop a tiny rocket. Her crimson-red hair stood out against her pale, freckled skin, the strands whipping wildly in the wind. Her large, oversized goggles sat lopsided on her face, their thick green lenses glowing faintly from some unknown mechanism inside.
She wore a worn-out brown aviator jacket, its sleeves slightly too big for her small frame, along with patched-up cargo pants stuffed with tools, gears, and spare parts. Her boots were scuffed and covered in soot, showing clear signs of countless reckless experiments.
As she zipped across the room at ridiculous speed, she spun wildly, leaving behind a dazzling trail of crackling fireworks that lit up the dim workshop like a festival gone wrong. “Rose!” the old man pleaded, but it was no use. She was unstoppable.
Cackling wildly, Rose leaped off the rocket at the last second, flipping through the air like a gymnast. The second she landed, her abandoned rocket exploded into a dense cloud of black smoke, sending a rain of scorched gears and debris clattering onto the floor.
And yet, Rose’s landing was nothing short of flawless. With a perfect aerial twist, she landed gracefully onto the counter, arms spread wide in an exaggerated pose, as if she had just performed a grand act on stage.
The fireworks behind her erupted in a final burst of golden sparks, illuminating the workshop in a dazzling glow, making her entrance even more dramatic. Kite and Olive stood frozen, their expressions caught somewhere between amazement and disbelief.
Rose laughed gleefully before speaking, her voice brimming with confidence. “Have no fear, customers, Blackbird is here!” She declared, standing tall atop the counter and striking a dramatic pose, her oversized goggles slightly slipping down her nose. The flickering shop lights reflected off the soot-streaked lenses, giving her a theatrical glow.
Behind her, her grandpa, an old, wiry man with a hunched back, a scruffy white beard, and a pair of thick, cracked glasses, was already preparing his counterattack. His tattered brown overalls were covered in oil stains, and a well-worn tool belt hung loosely around his waist. Without hesitation, he hoisted up a rusty net gun, his calloused fingers tightening around the trigger.
“Pipe down, child!” he bellowed before firing.
With a loud whump, the net launched, ensnaring Rose mid-pose. She barely had time to react before she was tangled in a heap of wires and reinforced mesh, her limbs flailing wildly as she thrashed on the counter like a caught fish.
“Gah! Let me go, Gramps! You can’t hold me forever!” Rose shouted, her voice muffled slightly by the netting as she kicked and wriggled in protest.
Kite and Olive stood frozen for a moment before struggling to contain their laughter. Olive clapped a hand over her mouth, her ghostly white eyes gleaming with amusement, while Kite had to bite his lip to keep from bursting into giggles.
“Enough of this nonsense, Rose!” The old man barked, adjusting his glasses. “Lest I take your gadgets away a second time!”
Rose gasped dramatically, halting her struggle. She turned her freckled face toward him, eyes wide with exaggerated betrayal. “You wouldn’t dare!” she accused, her voice laced with mock horror.
“I would too dare!” The old man shot back, crossing his arms defiantly.
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“Would not!” Rose shrieked, flailing harder against the net. “Would too!” Her grandpa slammed his palm against the counter with dramatic finality.
“Would no-” Rose started, but Kite and Olive’s laughter finally broke through the ridiculous argument, their laughter ringing through the scrap shop.
Both Rose and her grandpa turned their heads in unison, momentarily stunned by the interruption. “I-I’m sorry!” Kite wheezed, clutching his stomach, his curly brown hair bouncing slightly as he tried in vain to regain composure.
The old man straightened up immediately, clearing his throat and smoothing out his oil-stained overalls as if trying to reclaim his dignity. His gruff exterior melted into a welcoming warmth as he turned back to the kids.
“Ah, don’t worry, young man,” he said, his voice now gentler. “What brings you to our shop tonight?”
Rose, still tangled in the net, twisted her body around so she could face Kite and Olive properly, her goggles slipping further down her nose.
Kite hesitated for a moment before he reached behind him, unzipping his backpack with careful hands. Slowly, he pulled out Ray’s lifeless robotic body, his movements filled with a quiet reverence. The dim light of the shop cast faint glimmers off Ray’s black metal shell, his normally vibrant violet eyes dark and unresponsive.
Kite held Ray up slightly as he spoke. “It’s my son,” he said softly, the weight of his words evident in his tone. “I need materials to save him. Do you have any?”
The old man paused, his bushy brows raising in mild confusion before he gave a small shrug. “Sure! But it’ll cost ya!” He grinned, rubbing his hands together.
Kite and Olive exchanged a look before both reached into their pockets, each pulling out four Tecasticks. They held them up for inspection.
“This is most I have,” Kite admitted. “Same here,” Olive added in an nonchalant tone, acting as if she too were another casual customer.
The old man’s eyes practically lit up at the sight of the Tecasticks, his greedy excitement barely concealed. “Oho! You’re in luck, then!” He declared with enthusiasm. “That’s exactly how much the materials will cost!” He reached out a weathered hand.
But before he could snatch the Tecasticks, Rose’s muffled voice shot through the netting. “Greedy liar!” she accused, her voice filled with knowing mischief. “The materials only cost two Tecasticks!”
The old man froze, his smile faltering as a visible cringe overtook his face. Slowly, he retracted his outstretched hand, his shoulders tensing as irritation settled in. He turned on his heel, throwing his arms up dramatically.
“Can’t you see I’m trying to run a business here, Rose?!” he bellowed in frustration.
Still trapped in the net, Rose only huffed before shouting back. “We got a motto, Grampa!”
At this, the old man’s bluster faded. His weathered face softened, his grumpy exterior cracking slightly as a long sigh escaped him. He muttered under his breath before shaking his head.
“Yes, yes,” he grumbled in reluctant defeat, “how could I forget…” With a gruff wave of his hand, he bent down and undid the netting, letting Rose tumble free onto the countertop. She landed on her feet like a cat, brushing soot from her clothes as if nothing had happened.
Kite and Olive exchanged glances, still utterly confused. Finally, Olive tilted her head and asked the question lingering in both their minds. “What is the motto?”
The old man let out a long sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose before turning back to Kite and Olive with a reluctant smile. “Ahh… the motto, huh? You got me there, Rose.” He crossed his arms and looked down at the counter for a moment before straightening up, as if preparing for a grand recital.
Then, with a gruff but proud voice, he spoke: “Honest hands build, honest deals stand.” His words carried the weight of tradition, a solemnity that even the chaotic energy of the shop couldn’t drown out. The flickering light overhead seemed to still for a moment, as if paying its respects for the dead.
Rose, now freed from the netting, sat cross-legged on the counter, her arms folded proudly. “That’s right! Mom and Dad always said that! A real craftsman doesn’t scam people!” she shot her grandpa a look, “They build things with skill, and they make deals with honor!”
The old man huffed, scratching at his messy white hair, still singed at the tips from the earlier explosion. “Aye, aye, I hear ya, kid.” He gave her a half-hearted scowl before sighing and turning back to Kite and Olive. “Your little friend’s right. We don’t overcharge, no matter how tempting it might be for an old man tryin’ to keep the lights on.”
Kite and Olive exchanged a glance, the sincerity in the old man’s voice catching them off guard. Even Olive, who usually carried an air of aloof amusement, seemed to regard him with a newfound respect.
The old man waved a hand dismissively. “Alright, alright. Two Tecasticks, like the kid said. That’s the real price for the parts you need.”
Rose grinned smugly. “Hah! You were gonna scam them, weren’t you?”
“Maybe! But only a little!” the old man grumbled before shaking his head and reaching beneath the counter. He rummaged through old compartments filled with various bits of scrap and machinery, muttering to himself. “Now, let’s see… you’re tryin’ to fix up your… uh, son, right?” He gave Kite an odd look again but didn’t press the matter further.
Kite nodded and carefully set Ray’s lifeless robotic body on the counter. “Yeah… he’s really important to me.” His voice was soft but firm.
The old man squinted at the small robotic figure before giving a low whistle. “Hoo, boy. This ain’t just some toy, is it?” He ran a wrinkled hand over Ray’s frame, inspecting the damage with a trained eye. “This is some advanced stuff… compact power core, reinforced plating, neural processors… where in the scrap did you get this, boy?”
Kite hesitated before speaking. “Got him for a school project.”
The old man gave him a long, knowing look before shrugging. “Fair enough.” He pulled out a small crate of white materials, various micro-circuitry, conductive wiring, and a few high-quality power cells. He set them on the counter with a loud thunk.
“There you go. Two Tecasticks, please.” He extended a hand, palm open.
Kite and Olive placed their Tecasticks in his hand, and the old man gave a satisfied nod. “Pleasure doin’ business with ya.”
Rose, still perched on the counter, grinned and gave a thumbs-up. “See? Honest deals stand!”
The old man chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. Now get off my counter before you set somethin’ else on fire, you little menace.”
Rose laughed as she flipped off the counter in one swift motion, landing beside Kite and Olive with effortless grace. Kite gathered the materials carefully, glancing at Ray with determination in his eyes. Olive, watching quietly, smirked. “So, what now?”
Kite exhaled, tightening his grip on the crate tucked under his arm. “Now… I fix him.” His voice was firm with determination. He and Olive turned toward the exit, but after a few steps, Kite let out a nervous chuckle, glancing down at the heavy crate with a sheepish smile. “…After I get home, that is.”
Olive smirked before bursting into laughter. “Yeah, good plan.” With that, the two of them stepped out of the shop, the warm glow of the flickering lights behind them fading into the cool night of the undercity.
Kite and Olive walked side by side through the dimly lit streets of the undercity, their footsteps barely making a sound against the worn pavement. The towering buildings loomed over them, casting long shadows under the scattered streetlights. The air was thick with the distant hum of machinery, and flickering neon signs illuminated the cracked walls with eerie colors.
As they reached a lone streetlight at the edge of an open alleyway, Kite adjusted the crate beneath his arm and set his hover board down onto the ground. "Well," he sighed, shifting his weight. "Guess I’ll be off now.”
Olive’s lips curled into a slight pout as she tilted her head. “So soon?” she asked, her voice carrying a playful yet melancholic lilt.
Kite hesitated for a moment, guilt gnawing at him. “Yeah…” He forced a chuckle, though the weight of his words settled heavily in his chest. “If my parents found out I snuck out, they’d give me the longest lecture ever.” His tone was lighthearted, but the sadness in his eyes betrayed him as his hover board hummed to life.
Olive chuckled, masking any deeper emotion. “Very well then,” she mused, stepping back with a graceful sway. “So long, friend.”
Kite smiled, nodding in appreciation before kicking off into the air. The rush of wind carried his white silhouette into the night, leaving only the faint hum of his hover board and the soft echoes of his departure.
Olive stood beneath the streetlight, her expression warm yet unreadable as she watched him disappear into the sky. The dim light of the undercity finally revealed the long trail behind her, dozens of unconscious feral Chimeras and bounty hunters, each one carefully subdued with magic before they could so much as lay their malice filled eyes on Kite.
Her now starry eyes shimmered, a faint violet hue tracing the edges of her irises in cosmic energy. A gentle whisper, laced with an almost celestial fondness, left her lips.
“Until we meet again, Henry Cooper.”