Work at the repair shop was slow.
Keran had plenty of spare time for his own errands, namely picking up extra cash on the side.
Fallo Scrapyard was the largest decommissioned machinery processing station in the West District.
Wrecked vehicles, broken machinery, and all manner of heavy equipment ran around the clock.
The low, grinding thrum of metal on metal carried half a block away.
This was territory belonging to Grey-jaw, the top underworld boss of the West District.
Where there was order and civilization, there were always criminal operators running gangs and off-the-books rackets.
Shadows came with the sunlight, plain and simple.
That went double for a place as tangled as Dawn City.
Spies from every city-state lay low here.
Arms dealers, information brokers, bounty hunters all operated in the shadows, feeding the city’s rot.
Local bosses like Grey-jaw might have been well known in the West District, but they were small fry next to the real power players.
Keran walked into the scrap yard wearing a black face covering.
A handful of thuggish-looking brutes blocked his path immediately.
“Kid. This ain’t the place for you.”
The man leading them was a bald brute with broad, thick shoulders, hefting a heavy chainsword.
He looked Keran up and down with open malice.
As far as he was concerned, the slim young man in front of him was just another easy mark.
“I’m here to see Grey-jaw,” Keran said calmly.
The guards burst out laughing, as he’d just told the funniest joke they’d ever heard.
“You think our boss sees every chump who walks in? Beat it. Or we’ll toss you in the smelter with the rest of the scrap.” The bald brute revved his chainsword.
The teeth whirred and spat sparks, his tone thick with menace.
“Is this what Grey-jaw’s crew amounts to? All bark and no bite?”
“The hell did you just say?” The bald brute flew into a rage.
He reared back to grab Keran by the collar when the young man lifted his right arm.
His sleeve slid down, revealing a Power Arm.
It was a prototype he’d thrown together overnight on his bedroom workbench using scrap from the shop.
Fine energy conduction grooves were etched into its surface, and they glowed with a faint pale blue light as he moved.
The bald brute’s pupils shrank.
Shock flickered across his face, then curdled into vicious anger.
“Got yourself a mod, huh? Let’s see how well it saves you!”
He swung the heavy chainsword in a brutal overhead strike.
The spinning teeth tore through the air with a shriek, aimed straight for Keran’s skull.
Keran did not dodge.
He raised his arm and took the hit head-on.
CLANG!
A deafening metal shriek rang out.
The chainsword teeth ground against the bracer, throwing up a shower of bright blue-gold sparks.
The bald brute’s hands went numb from the recoil.
A jolt of force traveled back up the hilt, forcing him back half a step.
Before he could regain his balance, the emitter on the front of Keran’s bracer flared bright.
A low-power pulse energy blast shot out and hit him dead center in the chest.
Bzzzt!
With a dull thud, the brute’s massive frame went flying backward.
He crashed into a pile of scrap metal behind him, sending a shower of rusted parts clattering to the ground.
He grunted and clutched his chest.
When he looked back up at Keran, his eyes were wide with terror.
The other thugs moved to swarm him, but their comms all buzzed at once.
The bald brute listened, still catching his breath, his face shifting through several expressions.
Finally he gritted his teeth and waved them aside, stepping out of the way.
“Boss wants to see you. Follow me.”
Keran followed him deep into the scrap yard.
At the far end sat an office built from a decommissioned military shipping container.
Thick composite armor plating was welded to its walls, and two automated defense turrets flanked the door.
Behind the desk sat a lean, wiry man.
His left eye was a glowing red cybernetic implant.
Even his knuckles had been modified.
On looks alone, you would never have guessed he was the man who ran the West District underworld.
“Heard you were asking for me.” Grey-jaw’s voice was low, but it carried the easy authority of someone used to being in charge.
“What do I call you?”
“You can call me Mr. K,” Keran said.
He did not give his real name.
“If I decide you’re wasting my time,” Grey-jaw said lazily, “you know what happens next.”
It had been a long time since a stranger had walked in off the street asking to do business, especially one this young.
Curiosity was the only reason he’d had him brought in.
That, and the fact that the kid had taken out his best enforcer without breaking a sweat.
That kind of skill earned a face-to-face meeting.
Keran raised an eyebrow.
“I can turn all that scrap you’ve got lying around into gear people will pay good money for.”
Grey-jaw scoffed and was about to speak when Keran turned and swept a hand over the pile of scrap at his feet.
His fingers moved so fast they blurred.
In barely ten seconds, he had reassembled a pile of cheap, broken pulse bracer parts that were destined for the smelter.
The cracked casing was welded shut perfectly, and the internal energy circuits had been rewired and optimized.
He tapped the activation button.
A steady pale blue shield barrier flared to life around the bracer.
Its power output and battery life were both a full tier above the shoddy factory-modified versions.
“You…” Grey-jaw sat up straight.
The red light of his cybernetic eye flickered rapidly.
He could tell instantly that this level of assembly and tuning skill was leagues better than the work of the half-baked modders he had on staff.
The bald brute standing nearby looked even more stunned.
He’d been standing closest, and he hadn’t even seen Keran’s hands move.
“Modded gear is huge money for the big factions. I can cut out all your middleman costs.” Keran set the finished bracer on the desk.
“All I ask is a small cut of the profits.”
Grey-jaw’s expression shifted.
High-quality modified gear was always black market gold.
Prices on the street were absurdly inflated, pure gouging.
Engineers who could build mods were a rare commodity.
Local crews at Grey-jaw’s level never managed to attract anyone truly skilled.
Having one show up on his doorstep?
This could be a huge opportunity.
“How do you want this to work?”
“I’ll send over a list. You source the materials and parts. I handle the building and tuning. I’ll come in for two hours every morning. Fifteen hundred credits per unit. And I get to keep any mechanical parts I want for myself.”
Grey-jaw haggled on instinct.
“I’m supplying all the materials. A thousand a unit.”
Keran turned and walked away without a word.
Grey-jaw panicked.
He’d just been testing the waters, trying to feel out his bottom line.
He hadn’t expected the guy to walk immediately.
“Wait, hold on. Fine. Your price.”
Modified gear sold for three or four thousand a pop on the black market.
Keran’s fee was well within what Grey-jaw could stomach.
“I’ll be back tomorrow. I’m taking some parts with me today.” Keran knew full well he held all the cards in this negotiation.
The man had no idea who he was or what he was capable of.
Grey-jaw’s eyes narrowed.
He nodded at the bald brute to follow and keep tabs on him.
He was in no hurry.
This was his yard.
He had ways of dealing with con artists.
Letting the guy think he’d won first was no big deal.
Keran picked out a healthy pile of usable parts and sauntered out.
He knew exactly what Grey-jaw was up to.
The guy wanted to find out where he came from and where he lived.
Keran cut through a few side streets, using the warren of alleyways and building access tunnels as cover, and lost his tail effortlessly.
If DSD was really watching Dawn City, they would find out about all this sooner or later, he thought to himself.
With their intelligence network, it would not be hard for them to learn he was picking up side work for Grey-jaw.
It was one way to quietly show them what he could do.
And he needed the parts to keep modifying his armor anyway.
As for why he’d picked Grey-jaw of all people?
The reason was simple.
The yard was close.
It saved time.
…
When he got back to the repair shop, Lira was going through the day’s work orders.
She looked up in surprise when she saw Keran walk in hauling a huge bag of parts.
“Where’d you go? What’s all this?”
“Hit the scrap yard nearby. Dug up some old parts that still have life in them. Gonna mess around with a few small projects.” Keran set the bag down and answered casually.
“That place is rough. Try not to go there too often.” Lira did not press for details.
As long as he got his work done, she did not care what he did in his free time.
She already had a soft spot for the skilled kid who was willing to work for so little.
She would have given him just about anything he asked for.
Keran set the parts down and went to find Gareth.
He had figured out long ago that the shop held a full set of foundational mechanical engineering texts.
Gareth’s bookshelves were crammed with handwritten notes and technical manuals, decades of research and experience all in one place.
For Keran right now, there was no better study material.
Keran found the door to Gareth’s private workshop on the second floor and knocked.
“What?” Gareth’s voice came from inside, gruff and annoyed.
“I was wondering if I could borrow some basic engineering reference materials.”
“Beat it. Not happening.” Gareth turned him down flat without a second thought.
“That stuff’s my life’s work. Why the hell would I let some random kid I don’t know paw through it?”
“Think of it as employee training. I’ll be able to take on harder repair jobs for the shop.”
“Save it.” Gareth scoffed.
“You’ve got a thicker skin than I thought, I’ll give you that. But I said no. What’re you gonna do about it?”
That was a good question.
What was Keran going to do about it?
….
The next day, while Gareth was holed up in his workshop tinkering with old blueprints, Lira snuck the books over to Keran.
“Read ’em quick. Don’t let him catch you.”
She gave him a quick wink, a little guilty but loyal all the same.
“They were just collecting dust anyway. And if you get better, the shop makes more money.”
It did not take Gareth long to notice the books were gone.
He raged around his workshop, slamming his fist on the workbench.
“How did I end up with a granddaughter who betrays her own grandpa for some stranger!”
Lira pretended she did not hear a word of it.
She went about her business like nothing was wrong.
She had full access to every room in the shop.
That was not something he could change.
“You just wait! One of these days I’m gonna fire you!” Gareth seethed.
Basic Weapon Construction and Modular Engineering.
The last two foundational textbooks on the weapons and armaments track.
Keran opened the first page, settled in, and started reading.
The mechanical engineering skill tree was massive.
Basic knowledge was the foundation.
Without it, even the best blueprints were useless.
With a solid foundation, you could build upward and branch out in any direction you wanted.
[Spend 1 potential point to learn Basic Weapon Construction?]
[Spend 1 potential point to learn Modular Engineering?]
“Confirm.”