A wave of oxygen traveled from the heavy tank, through the spaghetti of plastic tubes and straight into Gi’s mouth. He took as deep a breath as he could and focused on his stealmeat. His imagination smithed little guides, the most efficient out of countless ways to connect the wires, and showed him how it’d look finished.

The top of the worktable was black from the heat of intense mending. The parts scattered on it would turn into an engine, and therefore had to be made from a mix of impervious metals. Gi had enough skills and perks that something like hard-to-use materials were not a problem. For his tools he’d found in the fields of trash, they were.

It took over ten hours to get some parts to weld.

Gi could either connect the wires, leaving the parts apart and adaptable to their surroundings, or weld all the pieces into one so he didn’t have to do wiring. The former would create a better end stealmeat, but was an absolute pain in the ass that would take another ten hours.

Welding would as well, but at least it was enjoyable. And he was getting better at it every day.

Gi hated doing tiny adjustments, memorizing the wires’ details and then using them with the formulas. It was all too convoluted. He’d always hated wiring. Melding was simple and did the job as well. And now that he thought about it, he had just the tool for this metal.

The vault in the ceiling opened, letting down a levitating toolbox.

Gi opened it and took out the tool that he’d left inside -- an Electro-Hammer.

He walked back to the table and started connecting the tool to the battery laying beside his oxygen tank.

Electro-Hammer version 1 was the dumbest, most wasteful tool ever made, but it got the job done-- always got the job done. It didn’t care if it did what it was supposed to or not: the tool unleashed force in any way it could, sometimes causing utter chaos, sometimes working just right. Gi loved it for that and that he could control it’s overwhelming force. A few times he failed, though. He’d always see the scars on his black skins whenever he glanced in a mirror, and nowadays tried avoiding the hammer like the bearings traveling salesmen sold.

The hundreds of power wires connected to the hammer’s bottom. The red button on the handle clicked from Gi’s finger. The tool purred and vibrated in its particular way.

Goosebumps covered his sweaty body

“Alright, I’m gonna need you to work with me,” he said. “Help me mend this engine and I’ll let you rest in your grave for a century more.” With one hand, he got all the parts into place, with the other -- he struck.

Thousands of bolts filled the room with light and force crashed into Gi.

He skid a meter back then the wires on the Electro-Hammer strained, stopping him. He stood, terrified to his teeth for a moment, feeling like a lonely kid for the first time entering The Sparks. He stepped forth, eyeballed the angles and struck again.

Hammer collided with metal and sparks flew everywhere. Thank metal it was better this time.

Gi put more weight into his legs so he wouldn’t slide if the force unleashed at him again and struck for the last time.

The parts turned white from the heat, the head of the hammer -- red and smoking.

Gi dropped it on the table. He made sure his gloves were on tight and started molding the parts. The soft metal engulfed his hands. With the gloves, it was a warm goo to play with.

Fifteen minutes later, the stealmeat was completed, all because the Electro-Hammer had decided to cooperate. Next time, Gi might end up dead. The risk wired some adrenaline into his head and got more experience.

“Huh, I’d rather risk death than learn to wire,” he said to himself and walked out of the workroom. He headed for the changing room.

The client, a mysterious, nameless woman, had been sitting in the lobby for two hours, one leg twitching, teeth gritting at her nails. When Gi stepped out, she jumped.

“My outfit scares you?”

“No, I…” She laughed nervously. “I got lost in thought and… and… when I returned, there you were, standing with your thick black suit, those terrifying goggles staring at me.”

“Ah.” Gi entered the changing room. “That’s the fifty-fifth time I've scared a client”

Grinning, he changed from the deathdodging outfit into his normal clothes, washed the soot off his hands and returned to the white lobby.

“So.” The client jumped to her feet, her gaze flopping from the workshop to Gi and back. “Can I get my engine?”

“No doubt. You will when you pay me,” Gi said. “It was harder than I thought, lunatic difficulty. It’ll cost you 200C$ more.”

“That… that is absolutely lunatic! We had an agreed price!”

“And you will pay that price right now. The 200C$ comes a week later. I worked hard on that engine. The amount of electricity it took could power the Realm illusions for a week!” Gi said. “That amount of electricity could execute a thousand--”

“Alright, alright, I get it,” the client cut in. “I just… don’t have the money right now-- don’t you worry, once I get my engine, I’ll pay in twenty-four hours!”

Gi’s eyes narrowed, his knuckles cracked. He’d die without the money. Before he raised a fist, another way to extract the credits came to him.

He’d always wondered if the perk’s effects stacked and how long they lasted. Now was the perfect time: no matter what, he had to get the credits -- he might as well experiment a little.

The client’s brow rose. What a weird moment this was. She stood in silence whilst Gi in front of her seemed to freeze in time and stare at her like a bull. She might just grab her engine and leave…

[Intimidation has succeeded! Manipulating nearby beings’ emotions…]

Gi dismissed the message, satisfied that it activated after a few tries.

“You pay me right now or I’ll kill you,” he said, his voice the deepest it could get. “Nobody will even recognize you from your face.” Needless to say, he didn’t want to be doing this -- making people laugh was better than scaring their every cell. Even better was crafting. But he couldn’t go through life in a deathdodger that protected him from every unpleasant thing.

The client stepped back and tripped over her feet. On the ground, she kept eye contact with Gi, a tear of fear running down her cheek. She managed to get out of her terrified daze for a moment, sideswiped his legs and, screaming, dashed into the workshop.

“Huh, you’re pretty strong,” he mumbled, getting up. “Managed to fight intimation and kicked me down. I may need to get serious. May even start fighting.” He grinned.

The client dashed out of the workroom, engine in hand. She bumped into Gi and ran in another direction.

[Intimidation has succeeded! Manipulating nearby beings’ emotions…] [3x]

The client locked up and faced a corner, and her knees bent. She dropped the engine beside her legs. She hugged herself. She wept, trying to squeeze deeper into the corner. Gi sighed. The perk stacked. But overuse started after only four activations and split his head open with a migraine.

“Listen!” he said. “I need that money. I believe that you don’t have it and I’d give you a discount. If I could. Right now, you better have a diamond shoved up your ass or a Centercity relative buried with their jewelry collection you can dig out because I won’t take ‘later’ for an answer.”

“I… I don’t have--”

“Empty your pockets, then! Sell your identity! I don’t care what you do, there’s gotta be a thousand credits in my hands in a minute -- I’m not dying today!” Gi said.

“Okay, okay!” The client closed her eyes. “Get off me first.”

Gi let go of her hands and stood up. His migraine worsened.

The client grabbed a leather bag and rummaged around. After a while, an expression of hopelessness entered her face. Gi was worried as well -- everything depended on if he had the money today. No credits meant no materials and no electricity, but most importantly, no rent. And if he didn’t pay the rent, he might as well be dead.

The client let out a deep breath and took out a book.

“Collateral,” she said.

“A book?” Gi grabbed his forehead. “You might as well be giving me trash you found on the street.”

“No, wait! Yes, it’s a book, but it’s also highly in demand by collectors,” the client explained. “My brother’s also trying to pass the academy, but the scraps of my wage aren’t enough. So he asked me to sell our uncle’s inheritance -- this antique book. It goes for around 3,000C$ in Centercity.”

“Oh no,” Gi shook his head. “You're gonna have to ruin your life--” He froze. He’d forgotten he had to be angry right now. He frowned and growled.

“Our uncle was the first pilot of our family. He turned us onto the craft. He’d be happier knowing that my brother passed the academy than that his prized possession is intact on a dusty shelf,” the client said. “There are so many shipments coming to this Realm recently that I’ll get the money back in less than a week, I promise.”

“Alright.” Gi snatched the book and took a look at its withered leather cover. There were a few faded illustrations and sketches on the cover. Who’d pay 3,000C$ for this he had no clue, but there were some crazy-ass lunarists in the world. “You can go now.”

“Thank-- thanks,” the client said, standing up. “Nice doing business with you.” The exit slammed shut.

Gi sighed, looking at the book for a while longer. Had he just scammed himself? Well, he couldn’t know until he faced them. He grabbed the book and tossed it on an empty bookshelf, walked to a rattling refrigerator and grabbed a can of Sugary Death.

What to do now? No more jobs would come around today so he could do whatever he wanted. What about reading that book? Well, no… just no. It was probably boring and useless -- no good could ever come from reading. He could improve his crafting, but his levels were already high.

“I’m going all out into welding,” he said to himself. “I don’t need more levels, just tools. And my head isn’t getting better anyway.”

In the end, he’d have to do a lot of waiting. Along with the fact each second dropped an Electro-Hammer on his head, the countless worries stopped him from enjoying it in peace.

The pile of small metal toys attracted his attention. It was the seventh batch he’d crafted. He hadn’t had the time to give them away yet. The idea for those toys came from the memories of his painful childhood years. He had to struggle too much.

“I hate that kids aren’t excluded from the world’s horrors. I do add to them, don’t I? At least I give kids the chance to play. It should compensate for a few percent of my shittiness.”

Gi got an idea. He could wander the streets, dropping the toys off on school corners and then head to The Bars. It would even be a straight path.

Gi put the toys into his pocket, zipped the pocket closed and headed towards the exit. He stopped in front of the door, thinking if he should put on a hat or not,

“Well, it’s not gonna rain any time soon.” He laughed. A hat looked better than a bald head, yes, but he didn’t care about that anymore. Maybe the canal would get him a little wet, but that wasn’t a thing for hats to deal with. “Tonight is gonna be rough. I should enjoy this ordinary day as much as I can.”

He left, hat-less.