Under the light of two full moons, anticipation ate away at me like a parasite.
I found myself flicking the safety of my enhanced taser on and off, while my foot bounced in front of the brake and accelerator. My nerves were starting to get the better of me as I stared at the house across the street. It had Victorian-era architecture while the foundation and exterior sported some modern touches to keep it from looking too weathered. The blinds on the curtains were shut and the lights in the house were switched off.
I checked my watch, 11:54 P.M.
What kind of person sets a deal to be at midnight on a Sunday?
It was the middle of June, so I had to sit with my car idling to prevent the winter cold from freezing me stiff. I had to be up early for school tomorrow yet here I was, breaking curfew. In my defense, who wouldn’t stay up this late for a quarter million dollars? I was under no illusion this was legal work. I was breaking several laws, but I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to make this much money. Regardless of the risks involved, everything would be fine as long as I didn’t get caught.
The last thing I wanted was to deal with the United Nations Evohuman Crisis Unit.
Tick-tock, Maxis. In and out.
My watch buzzed with a reminder of the meeting.
12:00 A.M.
Flickering lights from the dining room caught my attention – my signal to go inside. Mustering my courage, I tucked my modified taser into my jacket pocket and opened the door of my car. The cool night breeze brushed my face as I fetched the bag and suitcase that sat patiently in my back seat.
Alright. Taser, check. Scarf, hood, and modified sunglasses, check. Mechatech for the deal, check. Lock the car…
I pressed my thumb against the handle until I heard a click.
…Check. Come on, eyes on the prize.
I steeled my nerves before moving across the street and into the front garden. As I moved, I turned on the night vision setting on my sunglasses to make it look like broad daylight before adjusting my hood and scarf. Given my clients were typically my age, I was pretty flippant about concealing my identity.
Tonight though was different.
Chances were I was dealing with sketchy guys who had a lot of money. Enough to dead-drop me $50,000 upfront for materials. At least they weren’t asking me to make weapons for them, which gave me some hope that they were just private dealers or collectors.
The best thing about that fifty grand was I barely needed to spend any of it to get the job done.
I didn’t want to ring the doorbell in case this was more covert than the client had implied. Normally, they’d leave instructions – ‘dog on the property, climb through the open window’ or ‘parents asleep, come in through the backdoor.’ This one had just told me to knock twice after the signal.
Simple enough.
A deep voice sounded from the other side. “You him?”
“Yeah, it’s Upgrade.”
The door clicked and creaked open and as it did, my eyes widened behind my glasses.
Behind the door stood a veritable tank. The man was at least a foot taller than me and incredibly well-built.
With a suspicious tilt of his head, he gestured for me to come inside. I scooted past and stepped through the entrance, trying to keep my hands steady. The interior was warm and cozy, not at all the impression I had gotten from the weathered exterior. One thing that struck me was how quiet it was. Given the nature of the job and how much I was getting paid for it, I had expected there to be more than one guy.
“This way.”
He took me down a long hallway and through another door. This one led downstairs into a basement and as I got closer I could hear several voices. We walked down the solid wooden stairs, our steps echoed off the walls, each one silencing the voices coming from below.
Three men stood around a dimly lit table while another feminine figure sat in the corner shrouded in shadows. Two of the men were dressed in suits while the other wore smart casual with a black jacket. That guy was old – early seventies if I had to guess.
All heads followed me down the stairs, and the two men in suits met my gaze. The older man, however, observed me with disappointment.
Then, he sighed.
“He’s young.”
I tried not to show how insulted I was. It hurt my professional pride, what little I had anyway. Just because I was a teenager, didn’t mean I wasn’t capable.
“Aren’t they all?” One of the suits asked. He was Asian with slicked-black hair. The other was a taller fair-skinned man who was too busy smoking a cigar to bother speaking.
“Good evening, Upgrade. Apologies for setting our meeting so late. Business like this tends to draw more eyes while the sun is still up as I’m sure you know.”
I didn’t, not really.
I rolled with it anyway, putting forward as much professionalism as I could muster.
“Late nights don’t bother me.”
He clapped his hands.
“Let’s get started then, shall we?”
The table had been cleared so I opted to place my gear on top of it. Since my bags were filled with the commissioned items, I took extra care to make sure none of the fragile cargo broke.
I had to take a deep breath as the guy who had escorted me down here moved out of my view. I didn’t trust these people and I doubt they trusted me either. This was a business transaction and that’s as far as it would ever go. The only thing I had was their word – which was inherently foolish but I was willing to entertain the risk.
Fortunately, my escort had just moved to watch the stairs and didn’t seem interested in what was going on.
“I have to say I’m impressed,” the Asian man straightened his tie and stepped forward. I noticed a tattoo on the back of his hand, a scythe with Asian symbols but I couldn’t identify which part, Chinese maybe? “We expected at least a three-week turn-around, but you managed on a much shorter time frame.”
I gave an easy shrug.
“I work fast.”
“But is it quality?” Cigar guy questioned with a sly smile on his lips. His accent was thick British. London, if I had to place it. “You lot tend to get fussy about deadlines. Never met one who could deliver early.”
“Yeah, well… I’m not like the others.”
I hadn’t meant to sound arrogant but there was truth to my words. Other Mechakinetics had to actually build their technology. I could cheat.
“That remains to be seen,” the old man grumbled. From where I was standing, his features had become shrouded in shadow. “Show us.”
Not seeing any point in delaying, I unzipped the suitcase and pulled out the first of the three items I had spent the week making. I carefully unwrapped it, removing all the towels I had used as padding before placing it on the table for everyone to see.
“Not gonna bother asking what you guys want this for since I doubt you’d tell me, but here’s your first request; a drone – or The Changeling, as I like to call it,” I picked up its controller; it resembled a smartphone from a distance, but when I touched it the screen lit up with a video feed and UI. This one in particular had taken me most of the week to make because I decided to get a little… creative.
“This little guy comes equipped with rotors for flight, wheels, and my personal favorite, spider legs.”
I proceeded to shift the drone through the three different forms. It still amused me that this particular project started off as a transforming remote control car and a cheap drone I had bought from an electronics store. Hell, the spider legs came from a plushie of all things.
“And, as a little bonus because I was feeling particularly adventurous, it has a chameleon setting,” with a tap on the screen, I commanded the drone to shift.
The little thing mimicked the material of the wood it was standing on, blending in with the table to near perfection. The tattoo guy nodded and looked at his associates. So far, they all seemed impressed.
It had taken me a little bit to figure out how to progress down a chameleon route. Originally, I had wanted to try and incorporate true active camouflage but it proved too costly in the short amount of time I had been given. A chameleon setting was much easier to work with and achieved similar results.
I handed the controller to the tattoo guy. “The UI should be intuitive, I did include a small manual in case you need it.”
“No training wheels,” the old man scoffed. “Next.”
Jeez, not even a word of praise. At least the tattoo dude likes it.
I reached into my bag and removed the second object, its appearance resembled a smooth black brick that easily fit into the size of my palm. Though it might look like that to an outside observer, it was actually anything but. It had started off as a battery I had salvaged from an old laptop and had taken days of upgrading to get it just right.
“Don’t have any fancy names for this one, but this is the closest thing I could make to the initial request. You wanted a portable power bank. Here it is,” I plonked it down close to the drone. “This thing has a capacity of a thousand kilowatt hours. I’ve made it as safe as I can, but that’s still a lot of energy so be careful with how you handle it – and I mean that. I can’t guarantee what will happen if you decide to hit someone on the head with it.”
The cigar guy took a puff and blew some smoke at me.
“Take an educated guess. What’s your professional opinion?”
“Best case? Your family can find all your bits to put in a box.”
He grinned.
For the hundredth time, I wondered who I was dealing with.
The third and final item was the least impressive of the lot.
I picked up the modified swiss army knife and aimlessly flicked through its functions. I had upgraded everything it had and tacked on a few new ones for good measure. A knife that could easily cut through wood, a screwdriver that could adjust itself to any screw… the works. I didn’t even have to get creative with the progression path seeing as the whole point of this thing was to have an answer to every problem.
I wasn’t sure why they had requested it, but the moment I placed it down in the middle of the table for a showcase, the old man snatched it up, shoving it into his jacket pocket. The sly old geezer even had the gall to smirk at me as he did so.
“Well… that about covers it.”
“One last thing,” the cigar guy puffed. “Can you do guns?”
I stared long and hard at him as the modified taser in my pocket felt more pronounced.
“Are you asking me if I can do guns, or if I’m willing?”
He took another slow puff, not once breaking eye contact.
“Both.”
“Yes and no, in that order,” I replied swiftly. I wanted to shut down that line of inquiry. “Too much heat. Stuff like this will probably be overlooked by the ECU but the moment I bring anything lethal into the equation, they’ll come down on me like a ton of bricks.”
“You got brains,” the old man commended under his breath. “That’s rare to see.”
“Too many fall victim to their own potential,” the tattooed man spoke up, having finally finished admiring the drone and power brick. “It’s good to see at least some of the new faces have a sense of self-preservation.”
Something heavy hit the table and slid over in front of me. I looked down to see a chunky steel revolver. The metal was almost spotless like it had been polished religiously. Immediately, I noticed the old man tense up and he stepped forward out of the shadows, glaring at the cigar guy.
“Put that away. Now.”
The scariest part about this so-called old man was he didn’t raise his voice – but the threat of violence was very real.
The man shrugged.
“Call it a professional curiosity. I want to know what he makes of this.”
“I don’t do weapons,” I said, trying to make myself very clear.
“I’m told Mechakinetics have a certain type of intuition about these sorts of things,” he continued, ignoring my statement. He pointed at his gun with his cigar hand and waved a bit. “Hypothetically, if you did do weapons, how would you go about modifying Becca' there?”
Did he name his gun?
Slowly, I reached down and picked up the revolver. I had never touched a gun before – a real one. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in playing around with weapons. I just knew better than to start down that path. Against my better judgment, however, I allowed my power to activate.
I was able to visualize the mental map in my head, each individual component of the gun branched out like a tree, showing me all the different kinds of upgrades and their cost.
[Charges: 25/25]
[Type]
* Magnum Revolver .357
[Durability 99/100 - Repair Available. Cost: 1]
[Model]
* Smith & Wesson 686 MK I
* * Smith & Wesson 686 MK II (Cost: 2)
* * Smith & Wesson 686 MK III (Cost: 3)
* * Smith & Wesson 686 MK IV (Cost: 4)
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* Six-round cylinder (Active)
* * Eight-round cylinder (Cost: 1)
* Extended Barrel (Active)
[Attachments]
* Compressor (Cost: 1)
* Muzzle break (Cost: 1)
* Suppressor (Cost: 1)
* Synthetic Grip
* Iron Sights / Red Ramp
* * Red dot sight (Cost: 1)
* * Holographic sight (Cost: 1)
* * 2-4x Variable Zoom Scope (Cost: 1)
[Materials]
* Stainless Steel
* Carbon Steel (Cost: 2)
* * Compound 9 (Carbon Steel Variant) (Cost: 5)
* Compound 3 (Steel Variant) (Cost: 3)
[Ammunition]
* .357 Regular (6/6)
* Armor-piercing (Cost: 1)
* Tracer (Cost: 1)
* Incendiary (Cost: 1)
* Hollow point (Cost: 1)
[Integration Status: Unavailable]
The base components were modern and the upgrade paths were straightforward. There wasn’t much available to me without actually upgrading the model to something more advanced. The MK II upgrade looked like it came from the late 2020s and would give a much more solid base to work from. While MK III and IV started to look like something straight out of a cyberpunk movie and let me start adding some really exotic features.
There wasn’t much I could do with the current design, though.
“Depends on what you’d want,” I carefully slid the gun back across the table toward him. I watched carefully as he picked it up and placed it back into his jacket pocket. “But if you wanted something fancy, I’d mess with the model and improve it. Alter it so it could pack more of a punch.”
“How much of a punch?” He asked.
I sighed.
“Enough to put a hole through just about anything other than fancy Mechatech and Evomats.”
“How much for it?”
I tried to not let my aggravation show. “I said, I don’t do guns.”
“How about an extra hundred thousand plus materials on top? I can even give you half right now,” the cigar guy took a long puff before blowing smoke in my direction again. He tapped it and let the ashes fall straight onto the floor. “Kid like you has talent. I'd hate to see it wasted.”
“The kid said, he doesn't do weapons,” the old man remarked, his tone filled with warning. “Respect his boundaries.”
The cigar guy grinned and pointed at me. “Ahh, but look! He’s considering it.”
I had bitten my lip in contemplation at the offer. An extra hundred thousand on top of the initial deal was so enticing it had my skin breaking out in goosebumps.
“No,” I said firmly. I refused to compromise my principles or my safety. “No weapons. Not from me. If you want guns, you need to go somewhere else.”
My eyes met the suspiciously quiet woman who had been sitting in the corner of the room the whole time without saying a word. I had no idea what kind of relationship she had with the people I was dealing with but she was clearly with them. Her eyes hadn’t left me ever since I had arrived and while she did make me feel a tad uncomfortable, she didn’t seem threatening.
“You heard the kid, that’s enough,” the old man sneered. “We aren’t here for munitions.”
The tattooed man finally turned and addressed the woman.
He started speaking to her in a language I didn’t understand but could recognize as Chinese. The two shared a very brief conversation before she stood up and dusted off her clothes. Her heels clicked against the concrete floor as she moved over into the dim light. She wore formal attire, the same as her two suit-wearing associates. However, unlike the rest, she sported a fancy Chinese-style rabbit mask that obscured her identity.
My guard shifted and I immediately felt on edge.
Only supers wore masks.
First, she examined the drone, then the black cube. The old man then handed her the multi-tool he had snatched up and she held it for all but a couple of seconds before handing it back.
“What’s this about?” I questioned.
“She’s just checking for any defects,” the tattooed man replied with a dismissive wave. “Among other things.”
“Like?” I pressed, feeling slightly insulted.
“Booby traps, bombs, poison, stuff like that,” the old man spoke up, giving me a neutral look. “Can’t be too careful when dealing with Mechatech. It’s nothing against you kid, this is just procedure.”
Fair enough.
I stepped back as she leaned into the tattooed man’s ear and whispered some things before returning to her seat. He beamed a smile at me before clapping his hands. Turning, he retrieved a briefcase from below the table.
“Your payment, plus a bonus,” he bowed his head respectfully, sliding it across the table toward me.
I clicked open the briefcase to find a small electronic chip, no bigger than a USB. I recognized the tech as Encrypto’s handiwork.
“A payload chip,” I nodded, before closing the briefcase. “It’ll do. What’s the bonus?”
“An extra fifty grand for timely delivery,” the tattooed man said. “A gesture of good faith. We hope to work with you again in the future.”
“Just as long as you guys remember my no-weapon policy,” I replied, giving the cigar guy a pointed glare. “I have no problems—”
A door slammed from upstairs which made just about everyone in the room jump except for the old man. My hands started to sweat as my escort pulled out a gun and began slowly ascending the stairs to investigate.
“Don’t suppose that was one of yours?”
They ignored my quip.
“Time to go.”
The old man was already moving toward me.
I stepped aside as he reached for the dusty bookshelf behind me. His hand went behind it and pressed something, which caused the whole bookshelf to immediately slide to the left and reveal a smooth wall. I was about to comment on it when a simple push caused an outline to appear and a door to swing open.
It opened out into a long tunnel and stretched for about a hundred meters.
The two suits were already carrying my tech to the tunnel, led by the woman with the rabbit mask. They didn’t even hesitate to step through and go down. I didn’t want to be left behind, so I snatched up the briefcase and headed for the tunnel. The old man hustled me through just in time to hear a storm of gunfire echo from upstairs.
I pulled out my taser and flicked the safety off.
The door closed and the bookshelf moved back into place, sealing us in.
“Keep moving,” the old man commanded.
We reached the end and climbed up a ladder, we emerged into a park. Turning, I spotted my car parked and sitting unscathed.
Across the street from it, the door to the house was left ajar and I didn’t like what I was hearing from inside. The business associates I was with began to head back towards the house when a black van pulled up a few houses down. The sliding door opened and a figure gestured with urgency for everyone to get inside.
That was their getaway vehicle.
I had my own.
Time to break off and make my own getaway.
As I broke into a sprint, armed men poured out of the house and spotted me. A few of them aimed and fired while the rest broke off and began peppering the black van with bullets. Very quickly, the area turned into a warzone.
I dove to the ground, using my car as cover. I could hear the bullets pinging off the metal framework of my car and for the first time, I was glad I had spent so much time testing my power on it. I had upgraded the framework and body to protect against collisions with other vehicles. I never thought bullets would be its first stress test.
The old man and his group wasted no time returning fire. I watched from behind cover as men fell to the street, screaming in agony. The ones firing at me turned their attention away to assist their comrades, giving me a safe opportunity to fire. Without bulletproof windows, I couldn’t risk trying to get away.
Propping myself up against the rear of my car, I aimed my taser for several seconds then pulled the trigger.
My weapon buzzed and crackled with electricity before the pin projectile shot out of the barrel. One of the men at the back seized up and dropped his firearm. I had managed to hit his forearm, despite aiming for center mass.
I aimed at another guy and fired. I missed the shot horribly. Panicking, I fired a third and missed again.
I tried to fire a fourth but my taser clicked, the cartridge empty. I fumbled around in my pocket for a spare and tried to reload but my hands were shaking too much. The adrenaline pouring through my system frustrated me because despite how I’d practiced reloading, I couldn’t perform the steps in the moment.
Aggravated, I shoved it back into my jacket pocket and took one last quick peek at the area. The suits were still trying to clammer into the van while trading shots with the gangsters, while said gangsters were dragging their wounded inside or behind whatever cover was available.
They weren’t focused on me, which was all the window I needed.
Unlocking my car, I scrambled through the front passenger seat and threw the briefcase into the backseat. I thumbed the ignition, ripped the gear shift into drive, and slammed my foot on the accelerator. With a high-pitched whine of an electric engine, I went from zero to a hundred in just over two seconds.
I didn’t even bother to put my seatbelt on as I tore through the streets of Bayside. I made about a half dozen turns down a few familiar roads before I finally managed to calm down and pull over.
Slowing down, I gently parked on another curb to catch my breath.
As I breathed in, something reached out from behind me and jabbed me in the neck. At first, I froze up and thought it was a knife but it was too small and it felt like being pinched. I fumbled and tried to find my attacker but my vision started swimming. I managed to open the door before unceremoniously falling out of the car and landing face-first on the concrete.
The last thing I saw before I blacked out was two heeled feet climbing out the back of my car.
----------------------------------------
When I next opened my eyes, I was tied to a chair.
“G’morning sunshine.”
I looked up to see a man sitting across from me in a red wife beater, some scrappy-looking jeans, and dirty brown boots. His arms were covered in tattoos and his bald head glistened with sweat. He smiled at me, it was crooked with some of his front teeth replaced with metal replicas.
I groaned as I tried to banish the drowsiness. I had never been drugged before but it left me feeling disorientated and dopey. The guy laughed, stood up, clapped, then strolled over and slapped my cheek.
“White blond hair, nicely cut, freshly shaved, young but has a car. Looks like someone’s from the rich part of town.”
I glared up at him.
He just sighed and shook his head.
“I’m trying to be nice here, you know? We don’t need to do this the hard way but if you keep disrespecting me, well, my hands might be forced and I don’t think you want that.”
I was feeling particularly upset – mostly at myself. I should have been more careful.
He approached me again. “You know whose territory this is?”
I wracked my brain for an answer, thinking through all the major players in Bayside. There were only a few of them and these guys didn’t exactly fit any of the profiles.
I gave a helpless shrug.
“Ah-ah, nonono we’re not doing that. Speak. You don’t get to play the silent game with me. When I ask a question, I expect a response, capiche?” He pulled out his gun and placed it against my right knee. I sucked in a breath and tried to say something but all that came out were broken mumbles.
Then, pain exploded in my eye as my head recoiled back. I let out a pained groan as blots of darkness clouded my vision.
“I really don’t want to make a mess, you know? Cleaning up is just not my thing,” he pressed the gun into my knee. “Last chance.”
“O-okay. I don’t know whose territory this is.”
“See! There you go. Now we have something to work with,” the man removed the gun from my knee. “This territory belongs to The Brotherhood of Cain. Did you think we wouldn’t notice you? You think we’re stupid?”
I mumbled my response. “No.”
“Didn’t think so. Next question. The men you were dealing with, who were they?”
The memory was fresh enough that I was able to remember their faces but I was sure they had never given me their names or any sort of business association. The best I had to go off of was the handle they went by online. Ceph Co.
“Don’t know. Didn’t ask. They were clients.”
“Interesting. Anything else?”
I shook my head.
“Nothing comes to mind.”
“Ah, come now. A Mechakinetic who doesn’t vet who he’s dealing with? Amateurish – but what can you expect, hm? You look young. You go to school?”
I glared at him and he smiled.
“Yeah, you go to school. Used to give my teachers that look too. KIDS—” he stepped toward me, crouching down to eye-level. “—think they know everything. Used to be one myself not too long ago if you can believe it. Used to think I was on top of the fuckin’ world! Then… I left, and life hit me,” he got in real close miming and mouthing the word ‘boom’. “Little fish in the ocean… gotta watch out for those sharks.”
The guy obviously liked hearing himself talk, so I let him.
He pulled up a chair and sat beside me.
“Guess whose turn it is to be the little fish?”
I didn’t answer. Not until he jabbed me in the ribs with his gun.
“Me.”
“Mmhm… say it,” he jabbed me again. “Tell me what you are.”
“I am the little fish.”
It was humiliating but that was probably the whole point.
He pulled the gun away and gave me a hearty pat on the back.
“Don’t look so sad, amigo! We’re all little fish at the start. Just gotta do some growing and then you can really start to make some waves.”
He reached forward into my pocket and fished out the taser, a spare cartridge, and my phone. He inspected the taser briefly before reaching around and tucking it into the back of his waistband. Then, he turned his attention to my phone – the first project I had ever worked on and the one item I had spent the most time upgrading.
It was a slick black touchscreen smartphone that surpassed even the latest models on the market. It was easily worth a few grand and I had even held back in developing it. Pushing too far would have it looking like Mechatech. As it was now, it could easily pass as a modern phone, with the exception of some software and specs that were at least a decade ahead of what’s available now.
I wasn’t sure I could get away with anything more sophisticated.
“Real nice piece of work right here. You Mechakinetics are fucking miracle workers, you know?” He kissed the phone and fiddled with it some more. “How do you turn it on? Help me out here, I'm an old man when it comes to this shit.”
I told him the truth, it wasn’t worth the effort to lie.
“It can’t be used by anyone other than me.”
I had taken a liking to biometric security. It was easy to use, but was hard to break into, especially when it was Mechatech like mine. Unless you were a very smart super with a talent for cracking security, getting into my phone was going to take a long time and a lot of creativity.
He chuckled and pointed at me as if I had told some kind of hysterical joke.
“That’s really smart – taking precautions, I like that. Can’t have anyone you don’t like messing around with your shit,” he pulled his chair up next to mine and took a seat, leaning back in it. “We both know how some people are. Women especially, fucking crazy lot, eh? One minute they’re going through your messages and the next they’re trying to cut your balls off.”
A woman appeared out of thin air right in front of us, carrying the briefcase with my payload chip in it. She wore a mask, opera-phantom style. It was stark white with a blank expression. The rest of her occupied a form-fitting white catsuit.
So it had been a super that had got me.
It would explain how she had managed to get into my car. Her powers were either an invisibility-intangibility combo or teleportation on demand. Regardless, it would be a real pain to develop defenses against someone with those kinds of powers.
“Don’t stop on my account. I’m always open to new ideas,” she said, the smugness in her voice making me feel like I was having my ears cheese grated.
The man laughed.
“See, what did I just say? Fuckin’ crazy bitch, always popping in when you least expect it.”
Her eyes rolled.
“You’re wasting time.”
“Nonono, my time isn’t wasted, see?” He gave me a nudge that felt anything but friendly. “I’m just hanging out here with my new friend! He’s quite the talker.”
I stayed silent, giving them both a sullen stare.
The woman sighed and shook her head.
“Ah… ruining my fun,” he waved her off before turning back to me. “Do you not understand what this is? It’s a lesson, see?”
“What lesson is this supposed to be?” I remarked sourly. “Maybe I’ll just deal in the daytime—”
Pain exploded across my cheek, the man clubbing me with the butt of his gun. My vision swam and I could have sworn the world was starting to spin. I heard him curse under his breath in Spanish.
“Finally grew some balls, eh?”
I didn’t have it in me to find a snarky response. He already seemed unhinged and assuming I made it out of this alive, I didn’t want to explain any bullet wounds to my mother.
He shook his head, disappointed.
“In this city, independents are a no-go, compadre. You pick a side or you stay out of the game. We’re not playing your game, you're playing ours. So, all that’s happening here is you paying us what we’re owed.”
“Fuck off. I don’t owe you shit.”
My response didn’t bother him in the slightest.
“Ah, yes you do. Just for that, I think I’m gonna keep this,” he wiggled my phone in his hand. It wouldn’t do him any good but that didn’t make me feel any better. The first week I had awoken my powers had been spent messing with the phone and now this asshole was going to walk away with it. “If you’re a good boy maybe we’ll let you make another one.”
“If you think I’m going to join—”
“Make this easy on yourself,” the mask-wearing woman said with an easy tone. “Best you just accept it. If you don’t cause any fuss, we won’t see any reason to hurt you or the ones you care about. It’s in your interest to cooperate.”
Mom…
Fury burned through every fiber of my being.
I opened my mouth to respond when I was abruptly silenced by a ringing phone. The man who had been interrogating me rolled his eyes before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. It was much less impressive compared to mine.
He answered in Spanish.
After a few moments of listening to the person on the other end, he began angrily talking, his dialect sounding increasingly desperate by the second. I needed to find a way out of here before they took me somewhere more secure. The last thing I wanted to happen was to get stuck making Mechatech for The Brotherhood of Cain.
The look of amusement had long since melted away from his features in exchange for frustration. When he finally went silent, the woman took the opportunity to speak.
“Who is it? Grim?”
The man just stared, his lips thinning into a displeased line. He ignored her question and continued talking in Spanish. He motioned for the woman to follow him as he stepped out of the room. Without another word, they shut the door, locking me in by myself.
I wasn’t going to get a better opportunity than this.
I let my power activate on the ropes binding me to the chair. I selected the cheapest upgrade, manila to nylon, and pushed a single one of my charges into it. The ropes around me slackened as their physical form began folding like origami. Then, they shifted into a floating blob of liquid and I shot up from the chair without a shred of resistance.
I stumbled to the nearest window and opened it. The fresh air of the night hit my face as I climbed out and unceremoniously dropped into a big rosemary bush. I rolled out and scrambled to my feet. Conveniently, my car was sitting in the driveway of this house. Without thinking, I made a break for it.
When I got close, I found my car was still running.
So it seemed whoever the masked woman was, wasn’t able to turn it off after the drive to get here. The ignition was registered to my fingerprints so only I could switch it on and off. How she had managed to get into my car was anyone’s guess, but given she couldn’t operate my car, she almost certainly wasn’t a Mechakinetic.
For the second time tonight, I clambered into the front seat and pulled away from the house. As I hit the street, I saw the front door open. The man stood in the doorframe with the woman next to him.
He raised his gun to fire.
I stepped on the accelerator and sped off into the night. This time, I didn’t stop until I made it home.