Caroline swiped through the photos, eyebrows creasing more and more after each one. Weapons. Not just simple assault rifles that scavengers carried, but miniature railguns and sniper rifles. At least ten, propped against the walls and strewn on the floor.
She handed the tablet back to Renee, perplexed. They'd done their little mission two hours ago, sneaking into Sangeet's shop and taking pictures of what was beneath that hatch below his desk. It had gone smoothly, and Caroline wondered if Sangeet just chose to remain oblivious.
They'd have to confront him soon. Firearms were strictly prohibited in the megacity, and that big of a stash was a magnet for trouble.
"Do you think he got these from the Manhunters?" Caroline asked.
Renee nodded from her left at the dining table.
"Then where did the Manhunters get them?" Caroline wondered aloud. Had the gang been scavenging dead zones or the badlands? Was that why they'd grown so confident lately?
What do we do about Sangeet? Renee asked.
Caroline's first instinct was to stay away as far as possible. But unfortunately, Sangeet was the cheapest source of mech parts by a long shot, outside of the junkyards that took hours to search.
Maybe they could get one step ahead of the authorities and convince Sangeet to return the weapons to the police. Make him seem like a good samaritan, then he could keep his shop. The problem was, much of the police were Manhunter plants.
The last option was to secretly return the weapons to the Manhunters. That was particularly stupid.
Why steal the weapons in the first place, Sangeet? Caroline wondered. Blackmail?
Renee looked up as Marvin walked into the workshop. Even though the dining table and front door were fifty feet apart, his footsteps thundered on the concrete floor. His mech hull was no more complex or aesthetically appealing than the others Caroline had built, but it gave her a sense of pride like nothing else before. Unlike the others, this one was in good hands. Still, it needed many improvements before the upcoming scrimmage against Rustica. A 360 waist axis and retractable swords were a good start.
Marvin waved to them and stopped at a worktable, then removed his helmet and shut himself down. Caroline frowned, feeling conflicted. She thought he'd do that less as time went on, spend more time with the others, but it seemed that Marvin only wanted to train and sleep. Then again, Caroline hadn't exactly woken him up with the intention of making a new friend.
There was also the caveat that Marvin was not into socializing. At all. Two days ago, after the teams' convention, Marvin had asked to help make a fight schedule. He had not brought it up since, probably expecting Caroline to go to him first.
Give it time. Take little steps, and things will go accordingly, Caroline's father would have said. He knew patience better than anyone.
Renee slid her tablet back to Caroline, having written something. What do we do about Sangeet?
"I think we have to confront him," Caroline said. "Just be as neutral as possible."
Renee tilted her head. What if he threatens us? she asked.
Caroline was surprised for not having thought of that first. The truth was, that second meeting with the scavenger had eased a lot of her worries. They'd talked extensively about his backstory—he seemed to be most comfortable talking about that—and nothing he'd said had been disingenuous. He was only sixteen years old, scared and on his own. He'd been tired of his old life with the nomads and had come to Megacity 14 looking for a new one. A tale all too familiar with Caroline.
"It should be fine," she said.
-----
Inspector Kobayashi glided down the stone steps, black trench coat trailing behind him. The artificial moonlight above him slowly faded into blackness as he approached the door.
What a poorly concealed place. It was a testament to the Manhunters' stupidity that they hadn't found their thief.
James attached the lockpick to the door, and after a few seconds of muted screeching, it fell back into his hand and the door slid open. The inside was pitch black, so he turned the knob on his mask to night vision mode. Turquoise shapes took form.
Shelves upon shelves of mech parts. A lone chair and desk by a window with some electronics laid out on top. A hatch beneath that desk.
James frowned. That couldn't lead to wherever the thief slept, could it?
The door behind him slammed shut and the ceiling lights flared on. A fun security system that probably would've scared anyone else. James rolled his eyes and turned off night vision, then scanned the place. There were no doors or passages—it seemed like this room was a dead end, save the hatch, but that couldn't be. James did another round.
There.
A section of the opposite wall was darker than the rest. An illusory wall, and an expertly set up one.
James stared at the wall and called, "I know you see me. Come out. I just want to talk."
All was silent for a moment. Then the wall flickered and a figure charged out, holding a polearm.
James sighed, drawing his paralyzer rifle and stopping the thief in his tracks. Once the electricity had rattled the boy long enough for him to drop his polearm, James released the trigger. The thief fell backwards, still on his feet, staring at him with a terrified expression.
"I'm not going to harm you," James said. Besides that little shock. "I need your help."
The thief squeaked something unintelligible. He was surprisingly young and looked a little in over his head, but the dozens of mech parts around him showed his competence clearly enough.
"You're good at what you do," James said, reaching into his left pocket. "How long have you been stealing from the Manhunters?"
The thief squeaked again. He cleared his throat meekly and said, "Only a few weeks."
James' eyes glazed over the shelves. "You know what I am, yes? You know I'm not affiliated with the gang in any way."
The thief nodded.
"Alright. Then relax."
The thief pursed his lips and drew in a deep breath. His shoulders sagged slightly.
That's better, James thought. He drew his hand from his pocket and opened his palm, revealing a small, black box. It was about the size of an egg.
"I need you to leave this wherever you're stealing from," the Inspector said. "Just set it down, take your share, and get out. It'll be no different than your regular runs."
The thief hesitantly reached out his hand. "What is it?"
"Nothing harmful. A beacon, sort of."
The thief nodded and took the box. It must've made perfect sense in his eyes—the Inspectors simply wanted to keep tabs on the Manhunters' storage.
"Please do it as soon as possible," James said. "I'll check back in in a week. If you don't feel up to it, you can always return it."
The thief frowned, probably thinking, Why wouldn't I be up to such an easy task?
"I-I can do it," he said.
James smiled. "Thank you." He reached into his pocket again and tossed a Maevis Inverter to the thief. The boy's eyes lit up—this was one of the most valuable mech parts one could find. "For the record, I appreciate what you're doing."
With that, James turned and left. Did he feel bad for giving that kid an instrument of death? Not really. He wouldn't be the one detonating it, after all. It'd sit in that storage until its fingerprint detector found one of its targets, and then chaos would ensue. The Manhunters would be brought one step closer to collapse.
However, James didn't want to see the total disbandment of the gang. Some remnants had to remain as a warning to future gangs that were thinking of sabotaging a mech fight.
I should take a few prisoners of my own, James thought. Find out exactly what this sabotage business is about.