November 19th 11:44 PM

Ripley

Marketing was difficult, especially when you were trying to garner high-profile customers while remaining hidden from police activity. Diana had contacted me, funnily enough, to tell me that someone had bought out The Toxin Club. Telling her it was me rendered her confused as to the source of my funds. Starlight was very unhelpful by calling me a sugar baby.

"Oh... so... you're running a business with Mirage, then?" She said, her tone stiff.

"A side-hustle." I said with pride. Knowing I owned an actual Shard Operating business, rather than working for one was something else. "I'll see if I can graduate it to full-time. Customers are slow. Turns out anytime a new Shard Op' opens, you get harassed by scrappers."

That was true. Thankfully, Mirage had some Metal Heavens muscle capable of warding them off.

"Oh, uh... what do you want me to say about it?" She asked.

"I'm good with repairs, and I'll handle the rest in my personal interactions. Don't dig yourself too deep."

"Don't bury yourself so deep, then." I heard her laugh.

I saw an opportunity to tease her a little bit. "Wow, you'd be willing to get your hands dirty for me?"

An awkward pause followed, before a long sigh followed. "Everytime... yeah. I would. Honestly, I owe you that much for everything... and you're a... a friend. Don't have a lot of those."

That took me by surprise, a hint of guilt crawling in my throat. "Yeah... honestly, it's been nice having chats like this with you. You're pretty fun for a cop."

"You're surprisingly moral for a criminal." She said back, but I was glad she couldn't sense emotions through a call.

"Well... we're both trying our best, aren't we?" I said softly.

"Stay safe, I'm working things on my end. Soon as a vaccine's capable, I'll... finally be able to start really taking the fight to Soul Killer."

"By the way..." I tried to figure out how to angle my words. "Think I could get some... biological samples from you soon? I'll see if it's possible to extract some of its anti-Soul Killer properties, might be the edge needed to go from vaccine to cure."

"Oh, sure. I'll make a visit soon." Did I imagine it, or was there a slight chirp in her voice.

"Perfect, I've actually got some customers coming in. My first."

"Oh... well, good luck." She said. "And... Rip... Ripley, I'm really glad to have you on my side. Not just because you're Dreadwire."

"Likewise, Diana..." I smiled even though she wasn't there. "Silvereye or Lilian Rose, Ulrich or Jones, working with you has been... quite fulfilling. I feel like I'm doing a good thing, so... thanks."

"No, thank you." Her voice was softer than usual. "I- I don't want to keep you busy. You have a customer waiting. Don't be too hard on them. Let's talk soon."

"And don't fry too many electronics. And yeah, let's meet up... how about somewhere normal for a change? Café?"

"Sure." She said a bit too quickly. "Um, so yeah, bye."

"Bye." I said as the call closed.

Stretching, I saw the feed of the lobby. A bored secretary Mirage had hired told this specific customer to go down to my lab, rather than the cheap Iron Operators working up above. They were simple technicians taken off the streets, not true Shard Op's... but capable enough with their Implants to not sully my brand name.

Waiting in the underground hallways, I turned to Starlight who flew into various drones and even an Arachne chair. This entire labyrinthine underground was my domain and workspace. The shabby room that my mom and I had been confined in was far too small for my liking.

And so, I slid my goggles on.

The Ripper

What a prime location to open a Shardware Operations facility in, between high-end financial influx from the Pleasure Lanes and the more broody and determined folk of Little Requiem, I could garner a variety of steel to experiment with.

Wealthy socialites, technophiles, mercenaries, sleazy corporate workers, black market outfitings, and even the more desperate of individuals who would be lovely experiments. My workshop hummed with machinery, an eager chorus chanting as the first customer walked in.

None other than Quickshot. The mercenary Missy had hired to aid in her facility raid. Her lithe figure was concealed by a tight bodysuit and her face was covered by a cloth half-mask and hood. Not too uncommon of a look from Little Requiem's direction.

She studied me, determining whether she had made the right option. "What's with the hairdo, Dread? And the face."

"Ah, this?" I swept my white-plated claws upon the snow hair that parted around my skull, my skin tight and masked in shadow. "A little self-modification to separate me from that brute. You may call me 'The Ripper' when I take this appearance."

Four limbs burst from my back, marvels of engineering that were altered to be more fit to my Ego. Unlike Dreadwire's black stalks of weaponry, mine were sleek and slim tools of Shard Operation with a white coat of paint. The Arachondyne Mk. 2 was now perfected, capable of switching modes with Retrofit as we needed.

"The Ripper..." she raised an eyebrow, "as in, you want me to say... 'the' everytime I refer to you. Can't I just call you Ripper?"

"No." My tongue sharpened. "The Ripper."

"Alright..." She raised her hands into the air as her voice took a mocking tone. "Whatever you say, The Ripper."

"Now," I slid my hand over the controls of various machines, "what is the purpose of your visit, dear Quickshot."

"Ew, do not call me 'dear'. Anyway, your girlfriend promised me a discount for being your first customer, easy on my eye to tell you got good scrap in your head for Shard Operating. I've had an idea in my head for a while. Similar to your Arachnodyne."

"Ah, but understand that particular Shardware is for an exclusive customer." I opened up the diagnostics chair for her to sit on, she eyed the cuffs distrustfully.

"Yup, not trying to steal your M.O. Or... his M.O. You work good with threads, electromagnetics specifically, want an upgrade for my bow's output — range, force, stability. Another thing. Seen you compact that much steel down into your back, want something similar — shrink the weapon down past what it already is."

She lifted up a briefcase she held, putting it down as she tapped a few buttons, and it registered as the owner. Like a beautiful piece of origami, it unfolded from a cuboidal shape into a curved metallic arc as a shimmering string of violet connected both ends in a taut rope.

"Otherwise..." she sighed, slamming her weight down onto an operating chair. "I need a General checkup on my wear and tear, especially my arms. The tensile strength of Magnathread is intense on my shoulders."

I asked her to showcase her range of mobility, drawing upon various streams of information about what I knew about her from the raid. She could shoot arrows that moved as fast as speeding cars across a range of nearly 2 kilometers, each weighing almost 100 grams at its lowest and 600 at its heaviest. I could do plenty to improve her; it just depended on one thing.

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"What, Quickshot, is your budget for today?"

"Considerin' the discount. What'll I get for 3 Bronze?"

15,000 Shardyne. "Do you seek any part replacements?"

"Not exactly, just retuning and refining. Maybe for my bow, if you're willing to part with that golden thread you throw around with your spider legs." She pointed to one of my Arachnodyne.

"Oh, Quickshot, your budget would need to be significantly larger for that." Neither me nor Ripley were... particularly fond of the idea of Livewire being supplied to others, but if the price was right... We could accommodate.

She scoffed, eying my prized limbs with a greedy look before settling deep into the chair. "Just do what fits the price."

Ah, so she was that kind of customer — the kind who didn't exactly know what changes they wanted but had a general idea of the outcome and was willing to pay a price to attain it.

As each of my six Shard Operating limbs stretched and observed, it was clear to see that she was a very dissatisfied customer. Like an archeologist, I excavated a trail of engineering history through every nook and cranny of her Shardware: parts were haphazardly jabbed in from one Shard Operator, nudged by the next, and replaced by another.

The disharmony unsettled me. This loss of efficiency was careless under their blind eyes.

I was far better. I would do so much better.

Quickshot shifted as six arms got to prying inside her limbs, her breath quickening as I adjusted Neurowiring from the tips of her fingers all the way to her scapulae. "Which arm steadies the bow, and which one pulls the string?"

"Ambidextrous, don't really care." She gasped, no doubt tingles flooding into her spine.

So synonymous changes on both arms... and they were already imbalanced. What shoddy work. "20,000 Shardyne, I'm doing a full rewiring."

"That's steep." She sucked in a breath. "And I never asked you to-"

"I will not be left dissatisfied with the improvements that can be done." My voice hissed. "20,000 Shardyne, and your range will increase by 30%. Guaranteed."

"Shit, fine, you're a feisty one. You've already started anyway." She acted annoyed, but I could feel the excitement in the threads of activity running within her Silver.

"And you will need to be sedated. It's a full rewiring." One of my Arachnodyne's arms unveiled a needle of Bronze-Grade Propafol. "Brachiocephalic port?"

"Femoral." She sighed, unbuckling her belt. "I'm not into men, by the way. So no ideas or comments."

"I do not care about flesh, only steel." My Arachnodyne extended a thin wiry cord that pierced and slipped into the flesh that was right under her hip, easily snaking into a vein and beginning to administer sedation.

Her eyes fluttered. "Well, shit... you're better than my last... Shard..."

She rested her head back, not quite unconscious but in a state between them.

Until, finally, she was asleep.

Starlight, issue a full Shardware Scan. Extract everything.

"You're the one always talking to me about not entering people's bodies without permission!"

You have mine. Dear.

------

Quickshot marvelled as she stretched and felt the changes I'd made in her body. No additional parts had been added, but Retrofit repurposed every inch of her for maximized potential. Meta-Manipulation better served to strengthen her bow, improving the synchronicity between the violet wire's tensile strength and elasticity. Magnathread was an Imperium specialty, one I hadn't indulged in before today.

"Shit, for what you've done... I'll call you whatever you want." She jabbed the air, each blow strong, precise and responsive. "I feel light. How'd you lower my Shardware's Capacitance?"

"I minimized the burden it weighed from inefficient connections, better weaving them into a web of concise action."

"Yeah, I don't know what the fuck you meant by that. Huh, but you're the real deal." She tapped her bow, laughing wildly as it slipped down into a briefcase that was reduced in overall volume by about a third. "Damn! You're the real deal."

I met her gaze unflinchingly. "I am he who weaves the impossible."

"Real, but weird." She smirked, transferring me the agreed amount. "Shit, I got a steal. Thanks for the discount."

"Be sure to refer me to others." I logged her profile into the clinic's database. "And when you're ready to fill up that extra capacitance, have the necessary Shardyne. I don't want to work while limiting what I can offer."

"Fuckin' hell. You're gonna drain me dry if you make changes like this." She cracked her neck, moaning as relief filled her better-organized nerves. "Feels like I got the best massage of my life, might want to rebrand, retrofit sounds like you're taking in antiques."

"Well... you are turning fifty." I couldn't help but pay back for that insult.

She scoffed audibly, picking up her stuff and pounding up the stairs, only turning back with one last sharp look. "For that comment, you're lucky you're skilled with your dangly spider-legs."

As she left, my goggles were removed.

Ripley

That felt... nice. That felt... like something I was made for. I was quick, efficient, purposeful. And Elsa had another stream of early-bird customers checking in throughout the week.

November 18th

The Ripper

This customer was... annoying. Glibert 'Mindmaster'. Connoisseur of Shardware with barely any backing in the technical aspects of this craft.

His gluteus took up space on the Arachne bed, staring up at the limbs and mocking them. "Tch, what is this? A 2458 Imperium model? Those lacked six-path parallel processing, I don't want any... less than adequate-"

Four sharp limbs burst from mine. "Are these sufficient?"

He gulped. I got to upgrading his Neuroframe; he claimed he could handle a lack of sedation, but the second I probed into his cervical plexus proved otherwise.

November 19th

Now, I had multiple people in my underground clinic: one well-dressed man and several less-than-modest strippers. The Golden Society club. Their owner, Coin King, was affiliated with Los Diablos and, from my tell, a mutant. He explained the situation to me.

His club allowed a more... intimate option. Handcuffs.

"Now..." Coin King coughed, tapping his cane on the floor, "my guys and girls are paid well for this risk. Doesn't mean I want them getting hurt. But some customers don't read the fine print. Worst of all is that it's Los Diablos who typically push the boundaries of what my workers are comfortable with."

"You want countermeasures, weapons on your employees?" I gathered, my eyes sizing up the nervous men and women lined up. "Concealed?"

"Don't even want them knowing my employees are Sharded. Part of my club's novelty is that the workers aren't supposed to have Implants." He pointed out. I could feel Implants from each of them, but they were fairly weak. Shardware was minimal on them.

"Concealed Shardware is a heavy cost..." I lifted the hand of one girl for my viewing, exacting its measurements. "Hands, I'll provide them the ability to slip out of their handcuffs by decoupling their hand from their wrist, and install tasers. A quick pulse to a Neuroframe will stun even a Bronze and let your workers activate a panic protocol for your guards."

Coin King nodded at the appraisal. "What's your hourly rate?"

I took offense to that. "I don't run on hourly. I take pride in my efficiency. I would not extend my work hours any longer for the sake of a higher payment."

He took my bargain well, almost as a challenge. "Well, looks you know your value for coin. What's the price looking at?"

"Making the Shardware will require 8,000 Shardyne in materials --- the concealment aspect is what raises that price. Assembly for Iron pieces of this complexity will run 4,000, while amputation of their hands and installation will be 3,000. 15,000 Shardyne for a single hand per worker."

"Discounted price?" Rich as he was, he was stingy to let go of more than was necessary.

"13,000." He had a bulk deal, with more than twelve workers he wanted protected that would save him a significant amount.

He studied my deal within his mind, no doubt running it through Cognitive Mutations and other calculators on his Frame to determine the honesty of my offer. "Hrn, not bad. How' bout' 10k?'

"No." I turned my back to him. "For the price I offered, I will be done by tonight."

"Tonight?" He looked at me skeptically.

"Tonight." I confirmed.

November 20th

A young woman came in, looking for breast implants. I pointed her to another clinic.

November 21st

A young man came in, looking for a penile elongation. I pointed him to another clinic.

November 22nd

A few men stormed in. Los Diablos from the looks of their tattoos. They barged past my secretary and the above-ground workers, calling for Dreadwire. I, as the Ripper, came in. "You called for my esteemed customer. He's away right now."

"Cut the fuckin' bullshit. Dread." One of them gnashed their teeth, ugly mutated canines that spilled through their lips. "We ain't dummies!"

Starlight. I pulled her into existence from the Fishhook, needing her to do a test run.

Activate the Dreadwire Protocol.

"N-now?"

Now. As I stared them down, a complicated drone downstairs activated. Skeleton had left quite the valuable piece of engineering when he visited Missy's bar, two of his bodies. While nothing out of the ordinary, it wasn't too difficult scrubbing them clean and organizing a new set of armor — and a much more limited Arachnodyne onto it.

Stomping from behind me, Starlight took the voice of Dreadwire as the mask illuminated the staircase's darkness. "If they're... disrupting you, The Ripper. Do you want me to... erm... eliminate them?"

"Holy shit, they're not the same guy?" One of the men spoke in a hushed voice. "I bet fuckin' money on this!"

"State your purpose or... die?" 'Dreadwire' said, with 'stern' resolve. Four limbs appearing in the shade that had little to no combat functionality, but were aesthetically similar.

"Uh fuck, no! We- we just wanted an autograph!" The wide-jawed man said in hurry, pulling up a digital hologram of the song's artistic cover. "You were lit in Web of Dread!"

"No autographs." I shook my head, but Starlight was already moving to sign them.

Then, I angled my goggles towards their disappointment. "Not unless you pay for a good Operation, then I'll convince him."

November 25th

Another group of men barged in, but I was almost disappointed it took this long for them to arrive. There was a reason Dreadwire never ran to hunt down the Snake Fangs after they shot Diana. It was because sooner or later... they'd come to him.

And now, they'd come to see who renovated their club.

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