The next day, Fii headed to the Vigil to meet up with Virgil. He was already in the basement, bent over a desk, examining some notes and scribbling something down on a piece of paper. A few empty coffee mugs and beer bottles cluttered the countertop nearby. The old radio hummed softly in the background, playing some kind of static-laden oldies station.

Fii rapped on the door frame, announcing her arrival. "Morning."

Virgil turned to greet her with a grunt and a curt nod. "Mornin', kid. Come on in."

She entered the room and plopped down on a nearby stool, stretching her legs out in front of her. "So, what'd you find?" she asked eagerly. "Did you figure anything out about that weird drug? Or the guy who OD'd?"

Virgil sighed heavily, setting his pen aside. "Yes and no. Turns out, the guy you helped last night...he's alive. Edith got him stable, kept him at the clinic overnight for observation." He scratched his stubble-covered chin thoughtfully. "Edith found traces of some unknown drug in his system, so she tested the syringe you brought back. Confirmed the substance was the same one he OD'd on. Still waiting for results to identify what exactly we're dealing with here."

He picked up a nearby cup of coffee and took a long sip. "Was able to track down his identity, though. Name's Joe Morley. Local street punk. Known associate of the Neon Vipers." Virgil shook his head. "Stupid kid."

"He's part of that gang? Seriously?" Fii narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. "Damn, no wonder. So, did you interrogate him or something? Did he spill any information?" She leaned forward, eager for more details.

"Didn't have to. Apparently, he woke up briefly while Edith was taking his vitals and started babbling nonsense. Couldn't remember who he was, where he'd been, or how he'd ended up at the clinic. Said he felt like he was 'floating on clouds,' so she gave him something to help him sleep." Virgil rubbed the bridge of his nose and groaned. "Kid doesn't remember squat, so there's no point in questioning him. But Edith said he's lucky you found him when you did, otherwise he'd probably be worm food by now."

"Wow, that's pretty crazy. Must've been one hell of a trip." Fii shrugged, but she couldn't deny she felt a twinge of pity for the poor guy—even if he was a gang member. "Think he'll be okay?" she asked quietly. "I hope he can get better."

Virgil let out another long sigh and shook his head. "Maybe. It depends on what's in his system and whether or not he has any residual effects. Guess we'll hafta wait and see." He clasped his hands together and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Anyway, as far as the investigation goes...so far, I'm basically chasing ghosts. I talked to a few informants and did some digging. Nothing substantial yet."

"So, what do we do now? Where do you plan on going next?"

"Gonna have to visit the Night Market, see if I can get some answers from the vendors. Find out who's selling, who's buying, that sorta thing." Virgil pushed himself away from the desk and stretched, wincing as his back popped. "Ugh, getting' too old for this crap."

That was the cue she was waiting for.

"Well...I talked to one of my sources last night. Said there's a new drug called Shiver that's starting to circulate through the slums. Supposedly, it gives you an amazing high but sends you crashing real hard after. Sometimes, people end up losing their minds and going homicidal before they check out." Fii crossed her arms over her chest and nodded sagely. "Guess that's kinda what happened to that guy. Could be related. Maybe."

Virgil's eyebrows shot upwards, his expression turning incredulous. "You have informants? Seriously?"

Fii waggled her brows, flashing a smug grin. "I'm full of surprises. But yeah, I've got people I can talk to. Some of 'em can be a bit weird, but I trust 'em. Mostly."

Virgil let out a tired chuckle. "Huh...who knew, huh?" He stroked his chin, his gaze growing distant as he seemed to fall into deep contemplation. "What else did they tell you?"

"Apparently, there aren't that many dealers around yet, but people are going crazy over it. That's about it, really. They only caught wind of the stuff recently."

"Who's your contact?"

"Nuh-uh, sorry. Not falling for that, old man. You can do your own snooping around, thanks." She stuck her tongue out playfully before hopping off the stool. "Anyway, I gotta go. Places to be, people to see, et cetera, et cetera." With a wave and a smile, she bounced out the door and into the afternoon sun.

She headed back to the clinic, suited up, and donned her helmet before going out to patrol the streets.

----------------------------------------

The weather was nice today, sunny with clear skies. It felt good to move around. Although her bodysuit hid most of her skin, she still felt naked without clothes. It was a strange sensation.

The slums' residents had become accustomed to seeing her on patrols, so nobody batted an eye when she passed by. They all simply went about their lives, not bothering to pay her any mind. Some even gave her friendly greetings as they went about their business. The whole experience still felt surreal.

No rooftop acrobatics today. Instead, she opted to walk through the slums on the ground. She tried to appear casual, ambling slowly along, casually greeting those who greeted her, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary.

Her route eventually took her through a narrow alleyway.

As she traversed the alley, her footsteps echoed loudly as they struck the pavement. The sounds of distant chatter and laughter drifted on the breeze. A few pigeons perched on the rusted fire escape above. Sunlight filtered through the cracks and crevices of the surrounding buildings, casting shadows across the dirty, litter-strewn concrete floor.

When she reached the far end of the alley, a familiar face came into view. It was Quinn, the guy she met atop the water tower a little while ago. He was wearing a faded jumpsuit and wielding a toolbox as he worked on some rusty pipes that lined the wall.

She stopped in her tracks, debating whether to approach or not. Eventually, curiosity won out, and she broke into a brisk walk. "Hey."

Quinn paused and glanced over his shoulder at her. His one good eye widened in recognition, and he stood up straight, putting away his tools. "Oh, wow...Axion. Didn't expect to see you in these parts. Need something?" He wiped his hands on his pant leg, removing some grease stains.

Axion shook her head. "Just passing through. Hey, are you the maintenance guy around here?" she asked. She examined the rusty pipelines, noting their deteriorated condition. "Seems like you have a lot to deal with."

Stolen novel; please report.

Quinn chuckled dryly. "More or less. I'm a handyman. Fix anything, anywhere. I get paid in food and water, usually, and sometimes Tinks or ChitCreds. No complaints, though; I prefer it that way. I like to keep busy, and being the neighborhood fix-it guy lets me do that while still making ends meet. It's a living."

Axion's helmet shifted to study the surrounding area. "And they leave you alone? No trouble?"

"Not usually. People usually know better than to mess with me. Sometimes, gang members or thugs show up and harass me for cash or goods, but it doesn't happen often. Not a lot of people know how to fix things around here so they rely on me." He shrugged. "Also helps I can take care of myself if I need to." He brandished his toolbox, holding it like a shield. "This right here, plus a wrench to the face, is very persuasive. Not to brag."

Axion stifled a laugh. "Ha, yeah. Well, at least you're doing all right."

"Speaking of which...why are you patrolling here, anyway? Something up?" Quinn quirked a brow. "Looking for something, or someone?"

She shook her head. "Not really, no. I'm just..." She paused, considering her response carefully. "...keeping an eye out."

"For...?" Quinn probed, intrigued. "Are the gangs doing anything shady around this neighborhood? Cause I heard about some new drug circulating through the slums. Got a buddy who mentioned it to me."

"I heard about that, too," Axion replied quietly. "Still looking into it. Haven't confirmed anything yet. But yeah, I'm keeping a lookout for anything suspicious."

"The Neon Vipers run this area, right?" Quinn frowned, folding his arms over his chest. "They're a bunch of bastards, and I wouldn't put it past them to be pushing this stuff. Kasumi's a snake, and Viper Vaughn ain't much better. Watch out for him—the dude's a real creep."

Axion tilted her helmeted head inquisitively. "Kasumi? Who's that?"

"Oh, you must've not heard of her. She's the leader of the Neon Vipers. Calls herself 'Cobra' Kasumi. I've seen her around, but I try to steer clear. She's a real piece of work. Always wearing that stupid mask, acting all mysterious. Thinks she's some sort of 'queenpin' or something." Quinn snorted in disdain, rolling his eye. "Uppity bitch."

The term "Queenpin" tickled at the back of Axion's brain, but she couldn't place where she'd heard it before. "Huh, okay. Thanks. I'll keep that in mind." She adjusted her stance, shifting her weight onto her left foot. "What about you? You a part of any gang?" she asked, trying not to sound accusatory.

Quinn visibly recoiled, aghast at the question. "Wha—no! Hell no!" He shook his head firmly, frowning. "I'm not a part of any gangs. I stay out of their way and they stay out of mine. Too messy." He chuckled, waving a dismissive hand. "I'm just a simple mechanic, cooking with spare parts and earning my keep. I keep to myself, mostly. Plus, I don't like getting involved with gang politics and all that crap. Too complicated."

Axion smiled faintly beneath her helmet, impressed by his honesty. "Good to hear. Well, good luck with the repairs, Mr. Handyman. And thanks for the heads-up about the Neon Vipers." She turned to leave, waving goodbye as she headed out of the alleyway. "Anyways, see you around."

"Wait, before you go—," he called out, jogging towards her. "I've got a favor to ask. Think you can spare a minute?" He eyed her curiously. "Won't take long, promise."

He wore a hopeful expression, and he seemed sincere, so she saw no reason to refuse. "Sure, why not? What's up?"

He gestured behind him. "There's a storage unit at the other end of the block. A bunch of supplies and materials are stored inside. Need to haul them back here. There's only so much I can carry with this toolbox, and well..." He rubbed his left arm nervously. "It's nothing too heavy, but I could use a hand moving stuff around."

Axion contemplated for a moment. He wasn't asking for much, and it wasn't like she was busy. Plus, she had to admit she was somewhat curious about the contents of the storage unit. "I'm game. Lead the way."

Quinn grinned gratefully and led Axion to a nondescript warehouse. Its corrugated metal walls were rusted and covered in graffiti. The faded letters across the facade read, "A.S. Storage, Est. 2140." There was an electronic keypad mounted on the exterior, but Quinn ignored it, instead reaching for the padlock securing the double doors. He unlocked the chain and slid the door open with ease, allowing her entrance.

She followed him inside, stepping past the threshold and into the darkness beyond. Once they were both safely inside, Quinn pulled a string hanging from the ceiling, activating the fluorescent light. The room filled with a yellow glow, illuminating its contents.

Rows upon rows of crates, barrels, and boxes lined the interior, stacked neatly in neat orderly stacks. Along the walls were various tools, appliances, and miscellaneous equipment. A worn-out couch sat in the far corner, draped with blankets and pillows. It appeared to serve as a makeshift bed, judging from the rumpled sheets and discarded clothes strewn about the floor. There was also a small gas stove, a small portable fridge, a couple of chairs, and a coffee table.

The room smelled musty and damp, with faint hints of gasoline, oil, and burnt metal. Everything was covered in layers of dust and cobwebs. In the center of the room lay an old oil barrel filled with sand and a few crumpled cigarette butts. The embers flickered in the dim lighting, glowing orange against the charcoal surface.

"It's not much, but it gets the job done," Quinn remarked, looking around with a hint of pride in his voice. "Here, come closer." He beckoned Axion over to one of the crates in the back.

Axion complied, joining him as he knelt and opened the crate. Inside were various mechanical components and parts, including circuit boards, cables, batteries, wiring, gears, bolts, screws, nuts, and other bits of junk.

She whistled softly. "Lots of neat stuff around here."

"All this is spare parts. Old equipment and stuff I scavenged. Some of it is useful, but there's plenty of garbage mixed in. Still...junk's gold if you see it right. I can sort through it later and pull the good pieces out. But for now, I need your help." He stood up and motioned toward a large tarp-covered object near the rear entrance. "It's under this sheet. Mind giving me a hand?"

"No problem." Axion strode over to the tarp and tugged it free, revealing a pile of scrap underneath. "This it?"

Quinn nodded, bending over and picking up a wrench from a nearby shelf. "Yep. Gonna need some of these to rework some parts." He rummaged through the assortment of odds and ends, pulling a few things out. "Ah, here we go. If you don't mind carrying that armful over there, I'll take this box. Should be enough for now. Then I can get to work."

"Uh, sure." Axion picked up the load, balancing them against her torso. It wasn't the heaviest thing she'd ever carried, but it wasn't exactly light, either. She didn't need to use her gravikinesis to ease the burden.

Quinn scooped up the cardboard box and followed her outside, closing the door securely behind them. They made their way back to the alley and dropped off their cargo near the maintenance worksite. "Thanks. Appreciate the help, seriously," he said with a grateful smile. "Have somewhere to be?"

Axion shrugged indifferently. "Not particularly. Just walking around, keeping watch." She noticed a small group of locals staring at them from across the street and subtly gestured at them. "Although, it looks like we've got some spectators."

Quinn chuckled, glancing at the crowd nonchalantly. "Yeah, well, I'm used to being watched. Not sure how you handle the attention, though."

"Eh, I got used to it. Took some time, but it is what it is. Can't help but stand out when I'm running around in a bodysuit and helmet, can I?" She crossed her arms over her chest, taking a casual pose.

Quinn's good eye trailed over Axion's bodysuit-clad form appreciatively before he quickly averted his gaze. His cheeks flushed slightly, and he coughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh, right, well...anyway, thanks again for helping me out. Really appreciate it." He extended his hand in offering, smiling bashfully.

Axion accepted his handshake and gave him a firm, friendly squeeze. "Happy to lend a hand, Mr. Handyman."

"Quinn," he corrected her, releasing her grip. "Name's Quinn. Nice to meet you, Axion. Take care." He waved goodbye and resumed working on the broken pipe.

Well, that was a nice little interlude. Best not to linger. Back to work.

Axion tipped her head in farewell and returned to her patrol.