005 - Time to Build
“Wait here while I get the rest of the parts,” Daven said as he shoved the driveshaft into the Xanthar woman's hands. Quickly, he went into the building, avoiding eye contact with the security guard/receptionist. He took the stairs two at a time and nearly ran into his room where he undid the mirror, revealing once more the parts he had acquired. So much work, scrounging up any bit of coin he could find, stealing from those who only had a little bit more than he. He had to do it though, if he didn't he'd be stuck in this place.
And if he did that Howard and Tim would still be alive.
His body shuttered at the thought and he pushed it away. He couldn't deal with that now, it was over and done with. He just had to focus on the task at hand. He just had to get out of here.
He climbed up the counter and into the small hole, pushing over half of his body into it. He gathered up all the parts, mostly just small bolts or spare sheets of metal he'd need. But some were noteworthy, like a new monitor, an autopilot cord, and a biometric finger scanner to activate the guns. He had no clue if the guns on the old ship still worked or not, but at least if someone threatened him he could act like he was ready for combat.
He pulled him and the parts out of the hole, dumping them all onto the counter, before grabbing his backpack and jamming all of them into it. He was done, now all he had to do was get out of here. He grabbed the foggy mirror and put it back on the mirror.
It was then that he noticed himself in the reflection. His eyes seemed almost distant even to himself, the shiner that had started to form last night was now making itself fully aware to everyone around, and now there was a damp, crimson red that stained his shirt, leaking out onto his arm where it had ran down to his elbow before it had dried.
He rolled up his sleeve to look at the wound and saw a small but significant hole in his shoulder. He touched it lightly and felt pain sore up out of it.
I'll get to it later.
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He rolled the sleeve back down and slung it back onto his unwounded shoulder before going out of his room. He was just about to head back down when he remembered the Xanthar and her near nakedness. He went back inside and grabbed an old shirt, a jacket, and some pants he had stolen from an old drunk a few weeks ago, rolling them into each other to keep the receptionist downstairs from noticing the items. He didn't want anyone asking unneeded questions. He went back out and down to the entrance. This time he took a glance at the receptionist and saw he was paying no attention to him, instead he had his eyes closed - most likely reading. Outside, the Xanthar was still waiting for him, looking at him with a similar glazed-over look he had in the mirror.
“Um, here,” He said to her, taking the driveshaft from her hands and handing her the bundled clothes. She took them and silently put them on before staring back at him with her blank eyes. “Alright, um let's go.”
The two of them went through alleyway after alleyway, avoiding eye contact with anyone they met along the way. At each corner, he felt sure there would be a Peace Officer who would see the mess they were in and arrest them on the spot. But there wasn't. Of course, there wasn't, there were only a few per division in the Underground. Just enough to keep the whole place from exploding into the outside.
They made it. It was just another nondescript brick building, nothing fancy, nothing in shambles. Just like he remembered it. He went to the front and saw a vine growing from the brick, it was bigger than it had been last, now instead of just the wall it was now covering the white, peeling wooden door. He tore the vines off and put his hand on the paint. He couldn't help but feel nervous. Sure, the vines had overgrown onto the door, there couldn't be any way that someone got inside. Yet, he had gotten inside How-
He pushed the door hard, causing it to swing into the brick-walled interior, making a thud that echoed into the dark warehouse. As he walked inside, the lights came on automatically, and there, right in the middle of this old warehouse, was the X-390 in all of its old glory.
The ship was shaped a bit like a T except the back stuck out more which held the massive turbo engine with one hypercelled engine. The body's paint was flaky, revealing the rust beneath, but he could still see the red all along the middle of the ship with white covering the top and bottom besides the chrome titanium that outlined the big cockpit window and metal stilts to keep the ship from hitting the ground.
He went up to the front of the ship and put a hand on it. The metal was cold and slick with the Underground condensation, but even so, it was his. He felt his heart flutter and a smile creep across his face. Only then, did he let his emotions go. He had made it, it took saving up, taking a beating, and even witnessing a murder. But he had made it. The tears that streamed down his face weren't those of revulsion, those of regret, no, they were tears of pure triumph. He had made it to his ship and now, it was time to fix this baby up.