Mechanical Gloves

After returning from the Black Market, life went back to normal.

Now that he had money, Suren could tinker with some equipment he needed.

There were several inconspicuous mechanical shops near Green Street, favorite places for Cross Society members to get their motorcycles modified.

The owner of Big Beard's Mechanical Workshop was named Wright.

He was highly skilled and a certified "Intermediate Mechanist" of the Mechanist Guild. He specialized in modifying steam motorcycles and firearms and had a modest reputation in the mechanical modification circle.

With two hours left before work, Suren came to the workshop. Looking at the oil-stained bearded man, he greeted him with a smile. "Hey, Laisen, did the stuff I wanted arrive?"

"Suren, the requirements for your materials were way too demanding."

Seeing that it was Suren, the bearded Wright grumbled.

He set down the steam Harley shock absorber he had been working on, wiped his hands with a grimy rag nearby, then raised his brows. "But that's no problem for me, Wright."

As he spoke, he brought out a coil of wire from inside and introduced it in a boastful tone. "This is Henry VII Alloy Wire manufactured by Gerson Armaments. I'd stake my reputation on it—this is the finest and toughest alloy wire you can find in the Outer City. Top-grade material that came through genuine Inner City military-industrial channels. It's just expensive—three hundred Liso per foot. I got you three hundred feet. It's all here."

The owners of these mechanical shops all had their own stable supply channels. As long as one could afford the price, material dealers could always find something satisfactory.

Even prohibited or controlled goods from the Inner City.

"Oh, I'm very satisfied with this material!"

Suren looked at the coil of alloy wire, only slightly thicker than a strand of hair, and smiled pleasantly.

Just as Wright had said, it was already the best material on the market that met his requirements.

For anything with better performance, he would have to use certain Cursed Materials.

However, not every kind of wire could be used to manipulate puppets. Suren felt this wire would suffice for now and said, "Thank you very much. Here's one hundred thousand Liso. I've had good luck at the gambling halls lately and won quite a bit."

Everyone knew Suren loved gambling and spent every night in the Gladiatorial Arena until dawn.

His feat of winning more than two million with Qiantiao in a single night had spread through every major establishment on Green Street and become a topic of casual conversation.

Suren felt that suited him perfectly. Getting rich through gambling was perfectly reasonable, and it also explained the source of his funds.

Without the slightest hesitation, he took out a stack of banknotes, accepted the coil, and added, "Wright, I also need to use your workshop."

Wright shrugged, as though he had heard this request many times before. "Use it however you like. If you need help with anything, just ask."

Suren had come here many times already. Familiar with the place, he headed straight into the workshop.

There were two workrooms in the shop. One was for modifying steam motorcycles, piled high with old parts stripped from various sources. The air was always thick with the smell of rust.

The other was a firearm modification room, its walls covered like an armory with guns of all shapes and designs.

Shotguns, pistols, submachine guns, sniper rifles.

Because Alchemy existed in this world, materials could be modified in countless ways, resulting in all manner of bizarre firearms. Modified machine guns with outrageous magazine capacities, steam-powered high-pressure air guns, oversized enchanted pistols, and gunpowder war hammers that could serve as melee weapons.

Though there were no famous guns in the shop, the modified firearms produced here provided Cross Society members with ample firepower.

Suren went in, casually took out some tools, and began working on the coil of Henry VII Alloy Wire he had just acquired.

Over the past few days, he had spent some time designing a pair of semi-mechanical leather gloves resembling sleeve arrows, meant to let him use the wires for controlling puppets more nimbly.

After the battle at the Tube Building, he had killed many Steam Party members and stripped numerous Mechanical Technology fragments from them, raising his Mechanical Knowledge to Advanced Mechanical Basics.

Designing such simple Mechanical Equipment came effortlessly to him.

Suren took out the leather gloves, which were already more than half finished, then put on his Inch Lens eyepiece.

Although the Mechanical Gloves looked simple, in order to meet his needs, they were packed with dense brass gears and springs like the workings of a watch.

The gloves' core components were an "H-33 Spring Adapter" and a "B15 Clockwork Power Modulation System." They were valuable parts dismantled from an Inner City military Mechanical Arm bought at the Black Market, allowing the wire to fire as precisely as a launcher.

Such things were high-precision mechanical components that Outer City workshops simply could not produce. Suren's current Mechanical Knowledge only allowed him to use them skillfully, not invent them himself.

Before long, Suren adjusted the parts of the Mechanical Gloves and wound the entire coil of wire into the metal storage compartment on his forearm.

He flexed his fingers. The semi-mechanical gloves did not interfere with his ability to fire a gun.

After testing the firing mechanism, the alloy wire shot smoothly from the launch ports on the back of his hands. His fingers could also control the wire dexterously, allowing it to assist his movement and making it well suited for manipulating puppets.

When he pulled down his sleeves, they covered the mechanical mechanisms perfectly without drawing attention.

Suren was quite satisfied with his handiwork. After a few more adjustments, it would be ready for actual combat.

Before long, Suren left Big Beard's Mechanical Workshop and headed to Three Muskets Tavern.

It was not yet business hours, and the bartender was idly polishing glasses behind the counter.

Suren walked over and asked, "Hey, buddy, is there any mail from Pigeon today?"

He had already expected to hear "no" again, but the bartender checked his notebook and gave a different answer. "Yes."

"Hm?"

Suren smiled and walked over, taking the note pieced together from words clipped out of newspapers.

This was already the third day since their meeting at the Black Market. At last, he had received word from that mysterious stall owner.

The note read: "At five o'clock in the afternoon on the 12th, put ten thousand Liso in a leather bag and place it beneath the mailbox outside Bellman Bakery at 14 Ginkgo Street. My apologies, sir, but I need to see your sincerity in purchasing the potion, so I require an advance deposit. If you do not see this message in time, I will wait until the 13th. But if you do not pay the deposit as agreed, I will refuse this transaction."

"Heh, pretty cautious."

Suren looked at the note in his hand, a faint smile appearing at the corner of his lips.

The language in the letter was as polite as he had expected. Just as he had guessed, the stall owner was well brought up and not very old.

If it had been him, he probably would not have trusted someone casually encountered at the Black Market either. The suggestion of paying a "deposit" was perfectly reasonable.

Of course, the most important thing was that Suren had money now. There was no harm in paying the deposit first.

He was also certain the money would not go to waste.

His intuition told him that the mysterious stall owner would bring him even more surprises.

Checking the time, he saw there were still twenty minutes until five. That was enough time to reach Ginkgo Street, five blocks away.

Suren gave the bartender two hundred Liso as a tip for passing along the message.

Then he grabbed a leather bag, stuffed a stack of banknotes inside, folded it up, placed it in the inner breast pocket of his trench coat, and walked out of the tavern.

Green Street was Cross Society territory, and Suren knew the area well by now.

With a casual wave, he borrowed a steam motorcycle from the roadside.

Two minutes later, he arrived at an alley near Ginkgo Street.

After parking the vehicle, he pulled down the brim of his hat to hide his face.

Suren checked the time. There were three minutes left until five sharp.

Timing his steps, he walked out of the alley, blended into the crowd, and made his way along Ginkgo Street.

The shop at number 14 was Bellman Bakery, with a green mailbox outside its entrance.

When Suren arrived, it was exactly five o'clock.

Without looking around, he directly shoved the oiled-paper bag containing the money into the gap between the mailbox and the wall.

Then, without turning back, he walked straight ahead. This sort of transaction method was common among gangs.

Of course, Suren was a little curious about who would come to collect the money.

Since this area was Cross Society territory, it might even be someone he knew.

By the time he passed a corner, he had walked far enough away. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he saw a half-grown boy swiftly pull the oiled-paper bag out from behind the mailbox before vanishing into the crowd.

The handoff was very practiced, like that of a professional thief.

"Hm, he looks like one of the kids from the Tube Building."

Suren gave him a brief glance but did not think much of it.

He circled around, found the motorcycle in the alley, and returned to Green Street.

With the deposit paid, all that remained was to wait for the next message.

By then, that mysterious person would probably bring the potion for the transaction.

The previous two chapters were too cliché and have been heavily revised. You can refresh and take another look.