Chapter 150 – An Odd Meeting

    Just over an hour later, after switching trains twice and walking a short distance from the ‘Chop Shop Station’, they arrive at a large warehouse with soldiers posted around the walls.

    “Welcome to Chop Shop Street, aka Earnie’s playground,” Colette says, gesturing to the building beside them. “This is Earnie’s workshop, and half the other buildings on the street are his too.”

    “The whole warehouse?” Emily asks with an impressed tone.

    “Yes, the whole warehouse.” Colette nods to the guards and approaches a heavy metal door.

    She raises her hand and slams the side of her fist against the door repeatedly.

    “Give him a minute,” Colette says, turning her back to the door as Emily hears an explosion somewhere inside. “Maybe not.”

    Almost immediately, loud sounds of colliding metal echo through the door. None of the soldiers react, and a few moments later the door shakes and screeches with the harsh sound of grinding metal before swinging open.

    “What?” yells a tall, plump man with wiry white hair and soot-stained, shrivelled skin.

    “Oh.” He blinks in surprise when he spots Colette. “It’s you again. I thought you got free?”

    “I did, hence why I’m about to leave,” Colette says, with surprising bite. “But first, this is third circle, Emily Coldstone. She wanted to meet you.”

    “Bah, good riddance,” Earnie growls at Colette, the distaste clearly mutual.

    “Thanks,” Emily says, waving Colette off and addressing Earnie. “I saw your chain guns. Fascinating concept, what gave you the idea?”

    Earnie raises a cautious brow and looks her up and down, his gaze lingering on the gun on her thigh and the Claws on her arms.

    “I thought of it while I was working on a car’s drive chain. I just saw the chain spinning and it struck me: I should put that in a gun. And so, I did,” he replies with a mix of pride and lingering doubt. “Are you here to make a request or something? I don’t do custom orders unless they truly interest me, but I’ll hear you out.”

    “Oh no, I make all my own gear thanks. I just wanted to have a chat with you and pick your brain. I can show you some of my work if you’d like. I think I have some things that will interest you.”

    Earnie nods slowly, his eyes flicking down to the Spitter once again as he steps aside.

    “Sure, come in then.”

    Emily steps through the door and finds herself on a metal walkway suspended above what looks like an abandoned battlefield. There’s sand and discarded machinery everywhere, with more scorch marks than fresh metal visible.

    Earnie shuts the door behind them before pushing past and heading towards a large raised platform in the middle of the room. Emily follows him and finds it covered in tools and materials, with several workbenches covered in half-finished parts and pieces.

    “So,” Earnie says, sliding out two stools and kicking one across to Emily before dropping down and crossing his arms. “What do you make?”

    “So far, mostly weaponry,” Emily replies, dropping down on her stool without batting an eye at his seemingly rude demeanour. “Though I’m looking to widen my horizons while I’m here, so I’d love to hear any other ideas you have. Speaking of weapons though, I believe I have a better system than your chain guns.”

    Earnie frowns at her comment but doesn’t say anything.

    Emily pulls the spitter from her thigh and holds it up for him to see.

    “I hold my guns’ bullets in these spring-loaded magazines,” she explains, dropping the mag to show him and watching his eyes widen in realisation. “Then with a touch of magic to improve the power, I can rapid-fire incredibly quickly.”

    She casts guardian and creates a blob of metal to catch the bullets in, but before she can fire, Earnie holds up a hand and stands up.

    “Wait, while your fancy magic is impressive and all, I’d rather see a real test.”

    He runs over to the edge of his platform and pushes aside a box of screws to reveal a complicated set of dials, switches and buttons. He taps a few commands in, and the hiss of steam fills the room before something starts spinning up above them.

    “There we go, some targets will arrive soon. Shoot away!” He declares excitedly, sitting back down and staring intently at the Spitter without blinking.

    Emily looks up as a strange contraption lowers from the ceiling before firing several random chunks of metal scrap out into the scattered junk around them.

    I guess I can see why this room’s such a mess now.

    Emily plays along and flicks the Spitter into burst, standing up and pointing the gun at the first spinning sheet of thin metal before unloading three rapid shots into it. She flicks to the next target, landing all three bullets in the same place.

    For the next three, she pulls the trigger once and flicks her wrist between the kicks, hitting three separate targets dead centre without breaking a sweat.

    I wonder if she’s manually controlling the rotation.

    ***

    Emily blinks and finds Colette shutting the door on her way out again.

    “This ship’s fascinating, but it was a little too easy to steal the blueprint,” Emily mutters to herself, settling into a meditative position to wait till they reach Liberte once again.

    I wonder if there’s a way to obscure the runes on my weapons to stop someone else doing the same to me. Can I carve fake additions to runes like they tried to do on that Vice Captain’s tattoos?

    ***

    In the morning, Emily heads over to join Colette on the bridge once again, this time with her bag slung over her shoulder.

    “Hello, Miss Coldstone,” Colette says. “I take it you’re here to see Liberte from the sky?”

    “Call me Emily,” she replies. “And yes, I am. There’s no better way to get a first impression than from an airship!”

    Colette nods and turns her attention back to her command as Emily leans against the back wall again, this time intently staring at the desert ahead waiting to pass through the barrier. She holds her eyes open and unblinking, but nothing about the scenery below changes, even when Colette looks back at her proudly.

    “What do you think?” the soldier asks, and Emily finally looks away from the sands below, glancing to the side.

    The moment she focuses on Colette, the image outside the window changes to that of the sprawling cityscape.

    “It’s incredible,” Emily responds with a genuine smile.

    I thought it was some form of massive illusion, but it didn’t change when I passed through it – only when I looked away. Is it some sort of perception alteration like my brew of imperception?

    Emily doesn’t pay any attention as Colette guides the ship to the ground, and she barely pays attention to the rest of the time in the military base, throwing the task of piloting her body to one of her secondary cores.

    Her attention is only drawn back to her body when she and Colette slip back into the car after saying goodbye to Vice Commander Max.

    “So, where would you like to go first? Do you want to check on your ship?”

    “Yes please,” Emily replies. “How far is the shipyard?”

    “About an hour’s drive out to the west of the city, a little north of the route we came along,” Colette answers before turning to address the driver. “Head to The Rusty Balloon, we’ll take her straight there.”

    The driver nods and the car falls silent.

    Emily gazes out of the window, rolling an empty bullet casing between her fingers and watching the scenery roll by. They exit the military compound and drive through sparse city streets for a short while before slipping out onto the open sands. The car holds up surprisingly well as they climb over a small dune, but when they reach the top Emily spots a well-trodden path of compacted sand ahead.

    The driver mounts the path, and they follow it out into the desert.

    Just under an hour later, Emily sees a large, sand-coloured compound off in the distance, trying to hide among the dunes.

    I wouldn’t have noticed it if my eyes weren’t so good. Does that work on beasts?

    They roll closer and the low wall becomes clearer, along with the several guards patrolling it. They drive up to an open front gate flanked by two armed guards. The guards give the military car a single glance before nodding them through without concern.

    The driver pulls the car in, alongside a row of parked vehicles, some military and some not. Emily and Colette both climb out, leaving the soldiers inside.

    “Let’s head to the military rest point. The man I sent with your ship should be waiting there. He can tell us where they’re docked,” Colette says, staring into the compound with purpose.

    “That’s alright,” Emily says. “I can find them on my own. I wouldn’t mind wandering around the shipyard for a bit.”

    “Are you sure?” Colette asks, stopping and turning to face her.

    “Yes, thank you for your help,” Emily says, crossing her fist across her chest and giving a polite nod.

    “You’re welcome, good luck finding your ship,” Colette replies, placing a palm to her heart and nodding back before turning and ushering the two nearby soldiers back into their car to return to the city.

    Emily turns and wanders into the shipyard, pulling one of her birds from her belt and tossing it into the sky. The ball of metal unfurls into a small mechanical bird and flaps its wings, soaring into the sky to search for Calypso’s crew.