A muted glow shone over Asher’s garage, a cluttered but functional space filled with half-built vehicles and spare parts. The Lennox was suspended on a service module as the middle-aged, grizzled, and sometimes stubborn mechanic worked on it. Jarah sat in the corner of the auto shop, flipping through a Playdoll magazine.
“Which one’s your favorite?” he asked from across the room.
“Huh—?” Asher gasped as he didn’t bother to look up.
“I said, which one’s your favorite—” Jarah repeated before discovering two pages in the magazine stuck together. He tossed it without hesitating. “Nevermind…”
Asher shot up from the Lennox and wiped his chin. “Are you looking through my stash again?”
“Not anymore,” Jarah stood as he approached his car. “How is she?”
Asher cleared his throat. “Not as good as the last time, chief.”
Jarah sighed, clearly upset. Asher chuckled. “Maybe you should stop going after outlaws. Dangerous profession being a bounty hunter.”
“It’s the only work I can get,” Jarah explained. “Besides, it takes my mind off things. It keeps me active. Helps me make a friend or two.”
“Clearly,” Asher raised an eyebrow at the bullet-strewn Lennox. “She’s not gonna move like she used to, unfortunately. Her system is jacked up. It will take a pretty price to fix her properly this time. Unless…”
“Unless—?” Jarah stepped closer.
“Unless you can get your hands on an Auxiliary Core,” Asher suggested cautiously.
Jarah scoffed. “And where do you expect me to find one of those?”
“You see that bad boy over there?” Asher said as he pointed to an Emerson 680. “I found it crashed outside near 7th Street Apparel. It looked like it had been through hell, and I salvaged what I could…”
Jarah’s eyes narrowed as he stepped closer to inspect the vehicle.
“It runs like a dream now,” Asher added, “but when I found it? The whole thing was trashed. An Auxiliary Core was stripped out—some thugs got to it before I did. They probably sold it for drugs or something worse.”
“Did you get a look at them?” Jarah asked, his expression hardened.
“Nah, but they’re squatting near Seoul Alley,” Asher revealed. “A bunch of junkies playing scavenger. They took off when I showed up. It’s a long shot, but no outlaw will outrun you if you have that core.”
“Is that right?” Jarah said as he looked determined—
The southeast region of North Prime gave way to Seoul Alley, a saturated cultural hub strangled by gang dominance. The streets were a maze of overcrowded capsule hotels, underground gambling dens, and black-market clinics.
Jarah navigated the misty streets, his movements cautious but confident. In the distance, a teenage girl stumbled into his view. Her clothes were tattered—patched cargo pants, a frayed jacket—and covered in dirt. Her fingers were oil-stained, betraying the trade of a scavenger.
The young girl saw Jarah and ran toward him, her face streaked with desperation.
“Please, you gotta help me!” she pleaded, almost out of breath.
Jarah slowed, his sharp eyes scanning her. The makeshift tool belt slung low on her hip, the threadbare boots, the faint smell of fuel clinging to her—it all painted a picture.
“Help with what?” Jarah asked.
She hesitated, wringing her hands, then stepped closer as her voice trembled. “It’s my friend. She’s in trouble. These guys dragged her into this old clothing store on 7th Street. They’re gonna kill her, or worse.”
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Jarah tilted his head, studying her closely. He noticed how her eyes darted to the side as if checking for something—or someone—in the distance.
“What were you two doing out here?” Jarah asked.
“We were looking for clothes,” she answered nervously. “That’s it, I swear!”
Jarah nodded, his expression neutral. He gestured to her hands. “You fix things?”
The girl faltered, glancing at her fingers. “Sometimes. My dad—he taught me.”
Jarah hummed to himself. “Your dad taught you how to strip an Auxiliary Core, too?”
The girl froze, and her face went pale.
“Relax,” Jarah’s voice lowered, calm but sharp. “I’m not gonna hurt you. Just tell me where your friend is.”
The girl hesitated and then pointed down the side street. “The store’s this way. Please, we have to hurry.”
Jarah gestured for her to lead the way, measuring his steps as he followed. His face hardened when she took her eyes off him, and he knew exactly where she was taking him—
7th Street Apparel was in decay. Rust and time had eaten away its concrete walls. As the sun set, the sky above glowed a muted orange.
Jarah and the teenage girl approached the clothing store. Her nervous energy grew with each step, but Jarah remained calm. His eyes scanned the area carefully.
“Stay close,” Jarah said quietly.
The girl nodded and led him through the side entrance. The clothing store, a once trendy K-fashion boutique, was now in eerie silence. Its shattered display screens, dust-covered mannequins, and looted registers made the place feel like an ancient palace.
“She’s in the back,” the girl’s voice muttered low.
Jarah paused and narrowed his eyes. “Is she?”
Before the girl could react, Jarah grabbed her arm and pulled her close, spinning to face the shadows.
“What are you doing?!” she cried.
“Alright, you’ve got my attention,” Jarah’s voice was sharp and commanding. “Let’s skip the charade.”
The girl froze in his grip, her breath quick and panicked. Silence initially answered him, and then a loud, drawn-out applause rippled through the darkness. A grungy man in patchwork armor stepped into view from behind a collapsed shelf. Behind him followed three thugs, all armed and smirking as they circled Jarah and the young girl like prey.
“Well, look at you,” said Chen. Jarah knew he was the leader. “Sharp eyes, steady hands. And no hesitation against a kid. I like you already.”
Jarah’s grip tightened slightly on the girl’s arm, making her wince. “Funny. I was about to say the same thing. Using her as bait? That’s low, even for you.”
“Bait’s gotta be convincing, doesn’t it?” Chen shrugged. “And she’s good at it. She got you here, didn’t she?”
Jarah’s gaze didn’t waver. “I’m here for the Auxiliary Core. Hand it over, and I’ll let you and your friends walk out of here alive.”
Chen threw his head back, laughing. His crew joined in, their voices echoing in the cavernous clothing store.
“You’ve got some fucking balls,” Chen snorted. “I’ll give you that. But you’re outnumbered, dickhead.” Chen gestured to his crew. “Kill him.”
Jarah shoved the girl aside, his hand snapping to his hip in a blur. The Asunder Pistol cleared its holster, and its barrel glowed faintly with an internal charge.
The first shot dropped a thug mid-step, the fiery gold tracer tearing through his chest. Another quick pivot and the second thug’s leg was dismembered with a sickening crunch before a follow-up round finished him.
The third thug took a shot to the shoulder, spinning him into a rusted beam. Jarah’s final round landed between his eyes, splattering blood against the wall.
Chen drew his weapon, but Jarah was faster. He leveled the Asunder Pistol and fired a single round that punched through Chen’s armor and left him crumpled on the ground.
Silence fell, broken only by the hiss of steam from Jarah’s smoking pistol.
“Go home,” he said to the girl without looking at her. “If you still got one.”
The girl stared at him, trembling. Her wide eyes flicked between the bodies and Jarah’s calm, unflinching demeanor. Finally, she scrambled and ran, vanishing into the night.
Jarah holstered his pistol and stepped over Chen’s corpse. He crouched, rifling through the man’s belongings until he pulled out the Auxiliary Core. It was intact but dusty.
Jarah stood and looked down at the carnage without remorse. He turned and walked out of the factory—
When he returned to Asher’s Auto Shop, Jarah stepped into the garage, his boots scuffing against the greasy concrete. The Auxiliary Core gleamed faintly in his hand as he sat it down on a workbench.
Asher, crouched by the Lennox, stood as soon as he saw Jarah. He wiped his hands on an oil-stained rag, his face breaking into a grin, and said, “You are full of surprises, my friend…”