Val took a deep breath and popped on a soundtrack into one ear. Her favorite ethe-beats played in the background as she steadied herself for entry into Gambit Greg’s warehouse.
“Come in, come in!” a voice boomed from inside, startling her out of her self-induced trance.
Well, guess that’s that. She hadn’t wanted to bring attention to herself, but it seemed like she didn’t really have much of a choice anymore.
When she walked inside, she saw Gambit Greg sitting atop a makeshift throne of crushed beer cans and cracked bottles like he was role-playing as some kind of king of the landfill. He peered down at Val with aloof eyes. His blank expression never seemed to change.
As first impressions went, she wouldn’t have expected someone like that to have gained such influence over the years. He was guzzling down some unknown liquid—probably beer—with one hand and scratching his round, obtuse belly with his other. Flies flew around the vicinity, and the smell—it was awful. It smelled like intense pisswater and puke mixed together, and she thought she was already used to that kind of thing by now.
But there was no denying the facts.
As one of the major players in the landfill industry, Greg now had significant control over their metropolis, Novus Lokris. It was a literal garbage monopoly. Nobody could touch him. Without consequence, probably not even that man, Azan. But otherwise, it was the perfect disguise for a black market overlord. Or rather, it was the perfect justification. And he was, in fact, currently one of the most infamous figures within the underworld. She’d even heard of him way back when she’d started making a name for herself as a prominent thief.
As Val stood across from the large, burly man, she saw several others below the trash mound who looked to be his bodyguards. One of them looked a little too familiar—the way he smoked his cigar using that gaping hole on the side of his cheek…
Fuck me. Even after all those years, she’d never forgotten—it was the merc that had chased her out of her home. The guy who started it all.
On closer inspection, the hole was a little unsettling. It revealed a little too much of his yellowing teeth, and constantly reminded her of Bread’s current disturbingly barren facial features—
Stop checking him out, Val! She forced her gaze somewhere else. She wasn’t intent on getting herself recognized by a former enemy. Not now. Not when she had her chance to turn everything around and restart.
“Welcome!” Greg roared. His eyes lit up with that over-the-top enthusiasm she’d only seen in dubious marketing schemes. “So you must be Val.”
“Yeah, guess I am,” she muttered back.
“I know why you’re here.” He motioned towards the merc with the hole. “Rictor, quick. Bring out the core.”
The man hurried back over with an open briefcase. Inside was a core the size of a human heart. Beautifully crafted, beautifully engineered. It was immaculate—a silvery ball engraved with eccentric, geometric patterns.
“A perfect, military-grade thermonuclear fusion energy core. You can use it to power your vehicles, your mansions, or even just a private rocket to Mars!” Greg leaned in a little closer. “I’ll sell it half off. Ten million. You won’t find a better deal anywhere else. I guarantee it.”
Ten mill?! The fuck was he on about? Hell fucking no! “Right… How about we see some, uh, other options first? You know, just to check them out and stuff.”
“Sure, sure! Anything for Jack’s lass.” Greg nodded towards Rictor. “Bring the leftovers. The mid-grade and my favorite!”
The merc brought in two more cores, juggling them in the air like they were some playthings. He held them out for her to see.
One, most likely the mid-grade core, was less intricate than the military-grade, but looked overall similar. The other, on the contrary, was just a wad of cables. There were split ends everywhere and a bunch of colored wires hanging out like a bird’s nest. It didn’t even look like it could fit into Bread’s chest with all that mess sprawled out like that.
“The hell is that one?” she asked. “A hairball?”
“That one,” Greg said, “was one I made myself! It works like a charm, I promise you that. And it’ll cost you just under ten grand.”
“That? That’s ten grand?!”
He bellowed out in laughter. “And the other one’s a hundred!”
“A hundred grand?!” Fucking rip-off!
“Mighty fine deal, eh? Far from the ten mill I asked for earlier.” Greg gestured to another bodyguard. The woman brought over a lit cigar. “Mid-grade’ll last a year. The one I made myself’ll last probably… a month? I’ll give you a refund if it doesn’t.”
Hairball was out of the question. She’d never buy that even if it lasted ten years. She could only imagine what it’d feel like to wake up in the morning only to see the absolute chaos sticking out of Bread’s chest every day. She’d probably get OCD just looking at it once, and it wasn’t like she could clean up the wires either like some kind of hairstylist. That’d just end up short circuiting the thing or something, and well, it was probably worse than what Bread had right now.
The only other option left was the mid-grade, but that would cost her the entire fortune she’d earned from Simular which was, sadly, her entire bank account.
“So the mid-grade…” she started. “You’re close with Coach, right? Well, maybe you could—”
“No can do.” Greg pointed to a sign. It read ‘No haggling.’ “I’ve got buyers lined up like sweet rolls. Some even willing to pay more than the market price. Rictor,” he called out. “Take it away. It seems our guest doesn’t want it.”
“No, wait!” Fuck it. She had no choice. “Okay, I’ll buy.”
“Fantastic!” He beamed, showing his grossly yellowed teeth in return. “You’ve made yourself a lifelong partner. Just send the money over and it’s all yours.”
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
She reluctantly pulled out her phone and tapped away. If it was for Bread, it’d all be worth it in the end, but she really wished it was just a little bit cheaper. Just a tiny bit. What was she going to tell Coach? That they didn’t have enough to eat now? This entire interaction really rubbed her the wrong way.
“Move it, Rictor!” Greg snapped. “She’s paid.”
Rictor readied himself as if he were going to toss over the core—she really wished he didn’t—but then the man stared, core still held loosely in his hand. “So you’re the new stray…” His eyebrows slowly creased. “Actually, have we met before?”
Shit. “Me? No? Uh, a lot of people tell me that because I’m a pro boxer. You probably saw me online or something.”
“A boxer?”
“Yeah—”
“Rictor!” Greg called. “Stop wasting time and get outta here!”
“Sorry, bossman. Just checkin’ up on things.” The merc finally handed the core over and quickly moved away.
“So, anything else?” Greg cracked open a cold can of beer and guzzled down. “I got warehouses full of gadgets and gimmicks!”
The veils. That was next on the list. She knew deep down that no veil would be cheap enough with the amount of funds she had remaining, but she asked anyways. “You got any veils in stock?”
“Dermal veils! We’re out! There’s a shipment coming in this afternoon if you want to wait. I’m sure it’ll be worth your time.”
“Shipment?” She could feel a smile spreading across her face, but she held it back. There was a slight itch she wanted to scratch. She knew she shouldn’t, but she was feeling a little spiteful today. “You get those every week?”
“Sure we do! How else would we do business?”
“Wow. With all the stuff you’re selling, you probably ship ‘em in big ass cargo ships, right?”
“Hah! That’ll get you caught in no time. Concealed and cached. That’s our motto.”
“Yeah, yeah… So like trucks? Vans? That your transportation?” It couldn’t have been trains. There was no versatility in those. Maybe through the underground? Some kind of subway system?
“How else?” He laughed. “It’s not like planes could land here.”
“Wow, that’s real cool. You’re living the high life.” She had what she was looking for. “Well, it’s been nice chatting with you. I’ll come back if there’s anything else. You really got a lot of shit here. Pretty chill business you got going.”
“Of course! I got everything you’ll ever need.” Greg pulled out another bottle from behind his throne and cracked it open. “For a price.”
This jank-ass, old man had no idea what was coming for him…
…
There. Val saw a suspicious van driving towards the landfill. It was one of those large vans that were clad in sleek, highly camouflaged, armored coating. She only saw large corporations use vehicles of this caliber. And considering the direction it was headed, it was pretty clear who’s van it was for.
Usually, vehicles like these were autonomous. To reduce costs on workers, they would always try to minimize the number of employees they had through any means necessary. But to her, that was just a lucky break. She wouldn’t have to worry about any physical altercations.
“Just don’t go stealin’ anything from Greg…”
“Shut up!” she whispered to herself. She brushed Coach’s past warnings aside. Greg wouldn’t know what hit him. She’d been a professional for years; she wouldn’t get caught. She’d make this seamless, painless, absolutely evidence-less. But before anything else, she had to intercept it. The easiest way for her to stop a driverless car was to stand in the middle of the road. The safety sensors would activate, and the car would stop. But if they had removed the safety features…
She had a workaround. She always did.
Using her phone, she holographically projected a realistic-looking, concrete wall across the entire street. Whatever safety sensors they had disabled, it was useless against a barricade. The car was programmed to avoid a devastating crash no matter what. Then she hopped over to the side of the road and waited. The car looked like it was still a few blocks down.
Just a few more seconds…
It sped close.
Just a little bit more…
She could see the driver’s seat—empty. The wall should’ve been in visible sight.
Anytime now…
There was a loud, obnoxious screech. The wheels smoked as the vehicle started to slow. Then, with a final, high-pitched cry, it lurched once before coming to a halt.
“Yeah, motherfucker!” Val cheered. Now she had to work fast. A minute after a car like this had stopped, it would map out an alternate path. And even if she’d somehow stopped it for longer, five minutes, and it would send an emergency alert out.
She quickly pulled out her inflatable floor jack and placed it under the car. She activated it; the jack grew ballooned in size, efficiently lifting the wheels off the asphalt. Then she removed her phone and the projected wall with it.
The engine suddenly roared to life and the wheels of the car started turning again, but it didn’t budge from its position. Now that nothing was obstructing its view, no alert was going to be sent out until the GPS system locked on and eventually figured out that it wasn’t actually moving from its location.
But that didn’t matter. She’d be quick about it.
Val moved to the back. The trunk was padlocked with semi-sophisticated facial recognition tech, but she wasn’t fazed one bit. Every lock was breakable and this one was no exception. She pulled out the amalgorithm—her favorite tool for decoding security—and held it up to the door lock. It initiated a brute-force facial security algorithm to screen through. Thousands of random faces zipped past in the span of a few seconds. And within a minute, it clicked.
The door was open.
The hard part was over. All she needed now was to find those veils—synthetic epidermal veils. They were basically masks used as both disguises and faces for modified AI dolls like Bread. Usually it was for the former. But that was the least of her problems. When she swung the doors to the trunk open, an alarm immediately blared.
Shit. That wasn’t part of the plan.
She quickly clawed her way inside and scoured through all the boxes and containers. She tore open the first box—it was full of condoms. Why Greg sold condoms, she had absolutely no idea. They weren’t even outlawed. You could just buy one at a nearby convenience store. She flung the condoms aside and combed through the others.
The third one was just another crate full of rare ice wine. Stupid damn alcoholics. The fourth—used phones? What in the fuck? She could tell they were used by the numerous nicks and scratches on the screens. Were these stolen? Why was Greg selling used goods? She shook the thought away; it didn’t matter.
The ninth chest was actually somewhat exciting. It contained contraband that was prohibited from the public—a collection of dangerous hallucinogens and old, hardback copies of banned books.
But that wasn’t what she was looking for.
She opened a few more until she got to the final container—a small, black suitcase crammed into the far back of the trunk. With bated breath, she tore it open—
Jackpot!
A single, well-packaged dermal veil stared her back. The word, ‘Nano-Fibrogen,’ was engraved onto the side.
She let out a sigh.
Nano-Fibrogen… It all came back full circle. As the former daughter of a cosmetic industry boss, she even remembered the full name of the company her parents had founded—Nature’s Aromatica: Nano-Fibrogen Corporation. Old memories came flooding through, but she knew this wasn’t the time. She was time constrained.
She promptly snatched it up and ran.
Behind her, she heard vehicles skidding across the road and people screaming their lungs out, but she was gone before they could catch a glimpse of her. And after a few more minutes of intense cardio, they were completely out of earshot.
Piece of fucking cake. Val patted herself on the back for a job well done. She was officially back on the grind. With a mid-grade core in her gym bag and a veil in hand, she finally made her way home.