Chapter Text
The workshop smelled like metal, oil, and something Wemmbu had accidentally burned three hours ago.
He had no idea what the third one was.
He had decided it was better not to find out.
A small fan rattled in the corner of the room, pushing warm air through the workshop without accomplishing much else. Afternoon sunlight spilled through the high windows, catching on dust particles and turning them into tiny sparks above the workbenches.
Wemmbu sat hunched over a half-disassembled elytra, one foot hooked around the leg of his stool.
A screwdriver spun between his fingers.
Then stopped.
He stared at it.
"...This is the wrong screwdriver."
He dropped it onto the workbench.
The screwdriver bounced once.
Wemmbu sighed.
"Bro."
The workshop was silent.
He looked around as if expecting someone to answer him.
Nobody did.
"Cool."
He reached underneath the workbench and pulled out a wooden stick.
It was an ordinary stick.
Wemmbu held it between two fingers.
His eyes briefly flickered with a strange violet distortion.
For half a second, the edges of the stick fractured.
Not physically.
The world itself seemed to forget what shape the object was supposed to have.
The stick snapped through several possibilities at once.
Wood.
Metal.
Nothing.
Then it settled.
A perfectly functional screwdriver rested between Wemmbu's fingers.
He grinned.
"Problem solved."
He went back to work.
This was what Wemmbu liked.
Not the screwdriver.
Not the smell.
Not the ridiculous amount of time it took to make one decent set of wings.
He liked that nobody bothered him here.
No hero organizations.
No villains.
No vigilantes.
No reporters.
No people screaming about the latest city-wide incident.
Just him, his tools, his workshop, and the occasional customer who had managed to destroy a very expensive piece of equipment in a way that made Wemmbu question whether natural selection was still functioning.
It was peaceful.
Mostly.
A soft creak came from the door.
Wemmbu didn't look up.
"If you're here to ask if I can make your elytra cheaper, no."
The door opened.
"Good to see you too."
Wemmbu's mouth twitched.
He finally looked over.
Egg stood in the doorway.
He looked exhausted.
His clothes were slightly disheveled, his hair was a mess, and there was a faint scrape along one sleeve.
Wemmbu stared at him.
Egg stared back.
"...What?"
"You look terrible."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
Egg closed the door behind himself.
The little bell above it gave a pathetic jingle.
He crossed the workshop, dropped into the old chair beside the workbench, and immediately sank into it.
Wemmbu turned back to the elytra.
"Long night?"
"Long morning."
"It's three in the afternoon."
"Exactly."
Wemmbu glanced sideways.
Egg had his eyes closed.
"Coffee?"
"Please."
"Water?"
"Please."
"Food?"
"Please."
"Money?"
Egg opened one eye.
"...No."
"Then no food."
"Wemmbu."
"I'm joking."
"You weren't."
"I was a little joking."
Egg groaned.
Wemmbu stood, walked to the small kitchenette at the back of the workshop, and started preparing something.
The workshop wasn't large.
It had never needed to be.
The front room was mostly customer space, with a counter near the entrance and several completed elytra hanging from display hooks along the walls. Behind that were the workbenches, shelves of materials, tools, spare parts, and a small area where Wemmbu could actually sit down without having metal digging into his spine.
The back door led outside toward the narrow path connecting the workshop to the house.
Their house wasn't far.
Close enough that Wemmbu could walk home in less than five minutes.
Far enough that customers couldn't accidentally wander into it.
That was intentional.
Wemmbu returned with two mugs.
He handed one to Egg.
Egg took it with both hands.
"You're the best."
"I know."
Egg took a sip.
His shoulders relaxed.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Wemmbu returned to his work.
Egg watched him.
"You've been here since morning."
"Yep."
"You ate?"
"Yep."
"What?"
Wemmbu paused.
"...Food."
Egg stared.
"Wemmbu."
"Okay, fine. Bread."
"That's not a meal."
"It was bread with stuff on it."
"What stuff?"
Wemmbu considered lying.
"More bread."
Egg laughed.
"You are hopeless."
"Yet you live with me."
"Unfortunately."
"Skill issue."
Egg shook his head.
The silence returned.
It was comfortable.
That was what Wemmbu liked most about Egg.
Egg didn't need constant conversation.
He didn't need explanations.
He could sit there doing absolutely nothing and somehow make the room feel less empty.
Wemmbu carefully tightened a small component on the elytra.
The wings were beautiful.
That was the part most people didn't understand.
To most customers, an elytra was equipment.
A tool.
Something that let them fly faster, farther, higher.
To Wemmbu, they were engineering.
Every wing had to be adjusted to the person's body.
Their weight.
Their balance.
Their natural wing movement.
Their hybrid traits.
Their flying style.
Even tiny mistakes could make the equipment uncomfortable or unstable.
And Wemmbu hated mistakes.
He leaned closer.
The metal frame caught the sunlight.
Perfect.
He smiled.
Then his phone buzzed.
Wemmbu glanced at it.
A message.
UNKNOWN: Are you open today?
Wemmbu typed back.
WEMMBU: yes
Three dots appeared.
UNKNOWN: Could I come by?
WEMMBU: depends
UNKNOWN: On?
WEMMBU: how badly you broke it
There was a pause.
Then:
UNKNOWN: ...Pretty badly.
Wemmbu sighed.
WEMMBU: come over
He put the phone down.
Egg looked over.
"Customer?"
"Yep."
"What'd they break?"
"Something expensive."
"How expensive?"
Wemmbu shrugged.
"Depends how stupid they were."
Egg snorted into his coffee.
The bell above the workshop door rang twenty minutes later.
Wemmbu looked up.
A young man stepped inside.
Dark clothes.
Casual.
Nothing unusual.
He had the appearance of an ordinary hybrid civilian, with his traits hidden beneath normal clothing.
His expression was slightly awkward.
Wemmbu pointed toward the counter.
"Put it there."
The customer hesitated.
"You're Wemmbu?"
"Depends who's asking."
"I messaged you."
"Then yes."
"Oh."
Wemmbu raised an eyebrow.
"You broke something."
"Right."
The customer carefully placed a damaged piece of equipment on the counter.
Wemmbu looked at it.
Then looked at him.
Then looked back at the equipment.
"...How?"
"I fell."
"From where?"
"Somewhere high."
"That's not a location."
The customer rubbed the back of his neck.
"Building."
"What building?"
"A tall one."
Wemmbu stared.
Egg quietly covered his mouth.
Wemmbu picked up the damaged equipment.
There was a long crack running through one of the components.
He turned it over.
"Did you land on this?"
"Technically."
"Technically?"
"I landed near it."
"So you threw yourself at the ground and expected the ground to lose?"
The customer laughed.
"Something like that."
Wemmbu muttered something under his breath.
He carried the damaged equipment to his workbench.
"How much?"
"I don't know."
"Good."
"Good?"
"Means I get to decide."
The customer looked worried.
Egg smiled into his coffee.
Wemmbu examined the damage.
Then his eyes flicked toward the customer.
There was something familiar about him.
Not his face.
His voice, maybe.
Or the way he carried himself.
Wemmbu couldn't place it.
He shrugged it off.
He didn't care.
People were people.
He didn't follow hero news.
He didn't care about the latest villain.
He didn't care who had fought who.
He didn't even watch interviews.
His customers could be famous heroes, infamous villains, or the mayor's grandmother.
If they paid him and didn't destroy his workshop, Wemmbu was happy.
Mostly.
He began repairing the equipment.
The customer watched.
"You're really good at this."
"Obviously."
"You made these yourself?"
"Yeah."
"How?"
Wemmbu stopped.
He slowly looked up.
"...With my hands."
"No, I mean..."
"Then ask better."
The customer laughed again.
Egg gave Wemmbu a look.
Wemmbu ignored him.
He continued working.
The repair took less than an hour.
When he finished, he held the equipment out.
"There."
The customer tested it carefully.
"It feels new."
"Because I fixed it."
"How much?"
Wemmbu named a price.
The customer's eyes widened.
"That's..."
"Too much?"
"I was going to say surprisingly reasonable."
Wemmbu narrowed his eyes.
"You're suspicious."
"You're charging me less than I expected."
"You look broke."
The customer stared at him.
Egg burst out laughing.
Wemmbu shrugged.
"I'm not a monster."
"Right."
"Rich people pay more."
"That's your pricing system?"
"Material cost plus whatever I feel like charging."
"That's insane."
"Taxes."
"What taxes?"
"Mine."
The customer laughed.
Wemmbu held out his hand.
The money was transferred.
Transaction complete.
The customer thanked him and left.
The bell rang again.
Wemmbu watched the door close.
Egg looked at him.
"That was interesting."
"No."
"You don't even know what I was going to say."
"I know you."
Egg grinned.
Wemmbu returned to his work.
Another ordinary customer.
Nothing more.
At least, that's what he thought.
That evening, Wemmbu locked the workshop.
He checked the windows.
Checked the back door.
Checked the front lock twice.
Then he stepped outside.
The street was quiet.
The city beyond it wasn't.
Far away, lights flashed against the skyline.
A distant siren echoed between buildings.
A giant screen on the side of a nearby tower displayed a news report.
Wemmbu barely glanced at it.
A familiar hero stood on the screen.
INFERNO.
The reporter was talking about a recent incident involving a group of criminals.
Wemmbu walked past.
"Annoying."
Egg, walking beside him, glanced at the screen.
"You don't even know what happened."
"Don't care."
"You don't like heroes?"
"I don't like people who make my commute longer."
"That's fair."
They continued walking.
The city lights reflected off the windows around them.
Above them, somewhere between the buildings, something moved.
Fast.
Wemmbu didn't notice.
Egg did.
His eyes flicked upward.
For half a second, his expression changed.
Then it disappeared.
"Wemmbu."
"Yeah?"
"Keep walking."
Wemmbu glanced at him.
"Why?"
"Just do."
"...Okay."
They continued toward home.
Neither of them noticed the figure standing on a rooftop several blocks away.
The figure watched the street.
Watched the people.
Watched the workshop.
Then looked down at a phone.
A message appeared.
UNKNOWN: Found him.
Another message followed.
UNKNOWN: The mechanic?
The reply came almost immediately.
UNKNOWN: Yeah.
A pause.
Then:
UNKNOWN: And?
The figure looked toward the dark workshop.
Toward the house beside it.
Toward the two silhouettes disappearing down the street.
Their fingers hovered over the screen.
Then typed:
UNKNOWN: He's real.
A second message arrived.
UNKNOWN: What does he make?
The figure smiled.
UNKNOWN: You wouldn't believe me.
And somewhere across the city, another phone lit up.
Then another.
Then another.
The first thread had already been forwarded.
The information had begun moving.
Wemmbu had no idea.
He was already home.
He was halfway through complaining to Egg about a customer who had tried to pay him in coupons.
He thought the day was over.
It wasn't.
Not even close.
The next morning, Wemmbu woke up late.
Not dramatically late.
Just late enough that he had eleven minutes to get dressed, find his keys, eat something, and open the workshop before his first appointment.
He managed two of those things.
He was halfway down the stairs when he realized he had forgotten his phone.
He turned around.
Then remembered his keys.
Then remembered his phone was already in his pocket.
He stopped.
"...I'm going back to bed."
He did not go back to bed.
Five minutes later, Wemmbu stood outside the workshop, staring at the locked door.
He checked his pockets.
Front left.
Nothing.
Front right.
Nothing.
Back pockets.
Nothing.
He stared at the door.
Then at his hand.
Then back at the door.
"...I forgot the key."
He sighed.
Egg was nowhere to be seen, which was unfortunate because Egg was usually the person Wemmbu could blame for things when there was nobody else around.
"Welp."
Wemmbu walked around to the back of the building.
There was a small window.
He looked around.
Nobody was watching.
His eyes flickered violet.
The window shuddered.
For a second, the glass seemed to lose its understanding of what glass was supposed to be. Its edges broke into fragments of different shapes before snapping back together.
Wemmbu reached through the distortion and unlocked it from the inside.
He climbed through.
Dust exploded around him.
He landed on the floor, coughed, and looked at his clothes.
"...Professional."
He opened the workshop.
By eight-thirty, he was working.
By nine, he was annoyed.
By nine-fifteen, he was very annoyed.
By nine-thirty, he had already had seven customers.
Wemmbu stood behind the counter, staring at the seventh person.
"No."
The woman blinked.
"I haven't even asked yet."
"I know what you're going to ask."
"You don't."
"You're going to ask if I can make it cheaper."
"...Can you?"
"No."
She sighed and left.
The bell above the door jingled.
Wemmbu watched her go.
"Next."
The door opened again.
This time, a young man stepped inside.
He had dark hair, casual clothes, and an expression that looked permanently one bad inconvenience away from a headache.
He carried a damaged wing brace.
Wemmbu pointed toward the counter.
"Put it there."
The man did.
Wemmbu picked it up.
He turned it over.
"How?"
"I fell."
"From where?"
"A building."
"Which building?"
"A tall one."
Wemmbu looked at him.
The man looked back.
"...What?"
"You're stupid."
The man laughed.
"That's fair."
Egg, sitting in the corner with a coffee, quietly snorted.
Wemmbu started examining the brace.
"You got lucky."
"How bad?"
"Could've been worse."
"Can you fix it?"
"Obviously."
"How much?"
"Depends."
"On?"
"How rich you are."
The man stared.
Egg covered his face.
Wemmbu pointed at him.
"Don't judge my business model."
"I wasn't."
"You were."
"I was absolutely judging it."
Wemmbu ignored him.
He looked back at the customer.
"Name?"
The man hesitated.
"Flame."
Wemmbu nodded.
"Okay, Flame."
He carried the brace to the workbench.
Flame followed.
"So you're the mechanic."
"No, I'm a professional dancer."
Flame raised an eyebrow.
Wemmbu looked at him.
"...Do I look like a professional dancer?"
"Not particularly."
"Then why would you ask?"
Flame laughed again.
Egg looked between them.
"You two are going to get along horribly."
"We're already doing great," Flame said.
"I hate him," Wemmbu said.
"You've known me for four minutes."
"Exactly."
Flame grinned.
The repair took twenty minutes.
Wemmbu handed the brace back.
"Don't fall on it again."
"I'll try."
"No. Don't."
"Right."
Flame paid.
Wemmbu glanced at the amount.
He had charged him slightly more than the material cost.
Not much.
Flame noticed.
"You gave me a discount."
"You look broke."
"I am not broke."
"Then I can charge you more next time."
Flame stared.
"That's not how discounts work."
"It is here."
Wemmbu turned away.
Flame shook his head, smiling as he walked toward the door.
"See you around, Wemmbu."
"Hopefully not."
The bell jingled.
The door closed.
Egg watched Flame leave.
Then looked at Wemmbu.
"You know who that was?"
"A guy who fell off a building."
Egg stared at him.
"Wemmbu."
"What?"
"That was Flame."
"Yes."
"Flame."
"Yes, Egg."
Wemmbu shrugged.
"He needed a repair."
Egg rubbed his forehead.
"You really don't care."
"Nope."
"He's famous."
"That sounds exhausting."
Egg sighed.
"You are impossible."
"I've been told."
Flame stepped outside and immediately pulled out his phone.
He had barely made it halfway down the street before another message appeared.
PARROT: Where are you?
Flame typed back.
FLAME: Found a mechanic.
A few seconds passed.
PARROT: The one I told you about?
Flame stopped walking.
He stared at the message.
FLAME: You know him?
PARROT: Not personally.
Another message appeared.
PARROT: Why?
Flame looked back at the workshop.
The sign above the door was simple.
WEMMBU'S REPAIRS
Nothing about it suggested anything unusual.
FLAME: He fixed my wing brace.
PARROT: Did you tell him?
FLAME: Tell him what?
The typing indicator appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Finally:
PARROT: Never mind.
Flame frowned.
That wasn't like Parrot.
Parrot usually explained things.
Especially when he thought something was important.
Flame typed:
FLAME: You are being weird.
PARROT: I'm always weird.
FLAME: No, Spoke is weird.
PARROT: That's true.
A new message appeared.
SPOKE: I can see you two talking about me.
Flame looked around.
"...What?"
Another message.
SPOKE: Hi.
Flame stared at his phone.
FLAME: How the hell are you in this conversation?
SPOKE: Talent.
PARROT: He hacked the group chat again.
SPOKE: Borrowed.
FLAME: You broke into it.
SPOKE: Borrowed.
Flame sighed.
FLAME: Anyway. The mechanic is weird.
SPOKE: Interesting.
PARROT: Spoke.
SPOKE: What?
PARROT: Don't.
SPOKE: I haven't done anything.
PARROT: Yet.
Flame smiled despite himself.
Then he looked back at the workshop.
Something about Wemmbu bothered him.
Not in a bad way.
The guy had been completely unimpressed.
Flame was used to people recognizing him.
Even when he was in civilian clothes, people tended to stare a little too long.
Wemmbu hadn't.
He hadn't even cared.
That was unusual.
Inside the workshop, Wemmbu was already dealing with his next customer.
And this time, there were two of them.
The first was a young man with dark hair and a relaxed posture.
The second had an expression that suggested he had already decided everything in the room was entertaining.
Wemmbu looked at them.
"What broke?"
The first man pointed toward the second.
"He did."
Spoke grinned.
"I didn't break anything."
"You broke the door."
"The door was in my way."
"You were running through it."
"Technicality."
Wemmbu looked at the damaged doorframe.
Then at Spoke.
Then at Parrot.
"...How much money do you have?"
Spoke's grin widened.
"I like you."
"I didn't ask if you liked me."
Parrot stepped forward.
"Sorry. We'll pay for the damage."
Wemmbu looked at him.
"You?"
"Parrot."
Wemmbu nodded.
"And you're the one who broke it?"
"No."
Spoke raised his hand.
"Technically, yes."
Parrot sighed.
"Spoke."
"What?"
"Stop talking."
"But I'm helping."
"You're making it worse."
Wemmbu looked between them.
"You two always like this?"
"Yes," Parrot said.
"No," Spoke said at the same time.
They looked at each other.
Wemmbu snorted.
"Great."
He grabbed his tools.
Parrot watched him work.
His eyes moved over the shelves.
The equipment.
The custom parts.
The completed elytra hanging along the wall.
He didn't say anything.
But he noticed.
Wemmbu noticed him noticing.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You're staring."
"I'm looking."
"Same thing."
Parrot smiled slightly.
"You made all of these?"
"Yeah."
"By yourself?"
"Yeah."
"How long did it take you to learn?"
Wemmbu shrugged.
"Long enough."
Spoke leaned against the counter.
"You're pretty secretive."
Wemmbu looked at him.
"You're pretty annoying."
Spoke smiled.
"Fair."
Parrot glanced at him.
"Spoke."
"What?"
"Leave him alone."
"I am leaving him alone."
"You've asked him six questions."
"That's not a crime."
"It might be."
Wemmbu tightened a bolt.
"He's right."
Spoke laughed.
The door opened.
Flame stepped inside again.
He stopped when he saw Parrot and Spoke.
"Oh."
Parrot turned.
"Flame."
"Parrot."
Spoke waved.
"Hey."
Flame pointed at him.
"You."
Spoke smiled.
"Me."
Wemmbu looked around.
"...Do you all know each other?"
Silence.
Flame cleared his throat.
"Kind of."
Parrot nodded.
"We've worked together."
Spoke added, "We've also fought each other."
Wemmbu stared.
"That's concerning."
"It's complicated," Parrot said.
"Everything is complicated with you people."
Flame laughed.
"You have no idea."
Wemmbu went back to his work.
He didn't ask.
He didn't want to know.
He had a very simple policy.
If people wanted to explain their problems, they could pay him first.
That afternoon, the workshop got even busier.
Wemmbu had no idea why.
Flame had apparently mentioned him to Parrot.
Parrot had apparently mentioned him to someone else.
Someone else had mentioned him to someone else.
And somewhere in the city, information was spreading faster than anyone realized.
Not just:
There is a mechanic who makes elytra.
But:
There is a mechanic who makes better elytra than anyone else.
That distinction mattered.
Especially to people who paid attention.
A dark room sat several districts away.
A screen displayed photographs.
Wemmbu.
His workshop.
His products.
His street.
The person sitting at the desk leaned back.
"He's getting more customers."
The man standing beside the desk looked at the screen.
"Flame went there."
"Yes."
"Parrot too."
"Yes."
"And Spoke."
The person at the desk smiled.
"Interesting."
The man frowned.
"Are we sure he's not connected to them?"
"No."
"Then why are they all going?"
"Because he's good."
The man looked at another screen.
A photograph of a custom elytra.
"This is better than military equipment."
"Exactly."
"Can he make more?"
"Probably."
"For us?"
The person at the desk smiled.
"That depends."
"On what?"
"How much we offer."
Across town, Jaden sat on the edge of a rooftop.
He watched traffic move below him.
Minute stood nearby, leaning against an air-conditioning unit.
"You've been staring at that building for ten minutes," Minute said.
Jaden didn't look away.
"Have I?"
"Yes."
"Interesting."
Minute sighed.
"What's interesting?"
"The mechanic."
Minute looked toward the workshop.
"Wemmbu?"
Jaden smiled.
"You know his name?"
"I know everyone's name."
"That's unsettling."
"You're one to talk."
Jaden laughed.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Jaden pulled out his phone.
A message had appeared.
He read it.
His expression changed slightly.
Minute noticed.
"What?"
Jaden turned the phone around.
A photograph.
Wemmbu standing outside his workshop.
Minute studied it.
"What's special about him?"
Jaden's smile returned.
"I don't know."
"Then why are you interested?"
"Because someone else is."
Minute looked back toward the workshop.
"That usually means trouble."
"Usually."
Jaden slipped the phone into his pocket.
"Let's see what happens."
That evening, Wemmbu locked the workshop.
He checked the windows.
Checked the back door.
Checked the front lock twice.
Then stepped outside.
Egg was waiting across the street.
"You took forever."
"I had customers."
"How many?"
"Too many."
Egg frowned.
"How many?"
Wemmbu thought.
"Thirty-something."
Egg went quiet.
"That's... a lot."
"Yes."
"Did you recognize any of them?"
"Flame."
Egg stared.
"...Flame?"
"Yeah."
"The hero?"
"Apparently."
Egg looked toward the workshop.
Then at Wemmbu.
"And?"
"And what?"
"You didn't think that was weird?"
"No."
Egg sighed.
"Of course you didn't."
They started walking.
Wemmbu shoved his hands into his pockets.
"I also met Parrot."
Egg stopped.
"You met Parrot?"
"Yeah."
"And Spoke?"
"Yep."
Egg stared at him.
"How?"
"They came into my workshop."
"Why?"
"Door."
Egg blinked.
"What?"
"Spoke broke the door."
''Who is Spoke?''
''A customer''
Egg went quiet.
Wemmbu noticed.
But he didn't push.
That was one of the things about Egg.
Sometimes he talked.
Sometimes he didn't.
Wemmbu trusted him enough not to demand answers.
They walked another block.
Then Egg stopped.
"Wemmbu."
"What?"
"Don't look behind you."
Wemmbu immediately looked behind him.
Egg groaned.
"I said don't."
"What?"
"There's a black car."
Wemmbu looked.
A black car sat parked across the street.
Tinted windows.
Engine running.
Nobody getting out.
Wemmbu frowned.
"That's been there since this afternoon."
Egg's expression hardened.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I did."
"No. You texted me."
"Same thing."
"No, it isn't."
"Close enough."
Egg stared at the car.
The driver's door opened.
A man stepped out.
Another followed.
They looked toward Wemmbu.
Then toward Egg.
The first man smiled.
"Mr. Wemmbu?"
Wemmbu frowned.
"How do you know my name?"
The man's smile didn't change.
"We've been looking for you."
Egg stepped slightly in front of Wemmbu.
"Who are you?"
The second man answered.
"People who'd like to make a business arrangement."
Wemmbu looked at Egg.
"See? Business."
Egg didn't move.
"Wemmbu."
"What?"
"Run."
The first man sighed.
"That would be unfortunate."
He reached into his coat.
Wemmbu's eyes flickered violet.
The streetlight above them distorted.
The pavement rippled.
Egg's posture changed instantly.
And the stranger smiled.
"Ah."
His eyes fixed on Wemmbu.
"So the rumors were true."
Wemmbu's expression fell.
"What rumors?"
The man pulled out a small device.
A scanner.
It hummed.
The display lit up.
ANOMALOUS POWER SIGNATURE DETECTED.
The stranger looked directly at him.
"You really are special."
Wemmbu stared at the device.
Then at the man.
Then at Egg.
"...I really hate this city."
The man smiled.
"Come with us, Wemmbu."
"No."
"That wasn't a request."
Wemmbu's eyes flashed violet.
The street beneath the man's feet suddenly changed.
Stone became glass.
Glass became sand.
Sand became stone again.
The man stumbled.
Wemmbu smiled.
"Then you picked the wrong mechanic."
Behind him, Egg's hand slowly moved toward his concealed weapon.
And from a rooftop across the street, Jaden watched.
Minute stood beside him.
Neither intervened.
Not yet.
Jaden smiled.
"Well."
Minute looked down at the street.
"This just got interesting."
And somewhere much farther away, a phone buzzed.
A new message entered the information market.
WEMMBU HAS A POWER.
The message was forwarded.
Then forwarded again.
And within minutes, people who had never heard Wemmbu's name that morning were beginning to search for him.
The peaceful life of one mechanic had just become a very valuable piece of information.