The Infinite Repairman

Chapter 8: The Accusation

The workshop hummed with an unnatural, high-pitched resonance that made Daniel’s teeth ache. As he poured his focus into the schematic, the light from his hands bled into the paper, illuminating the faded ink with a vibrant, golden vitality. He was so lost in the reconstruction process that he didn’t hear the heavy iron door groan open behind him.

"You’re working pretty late for a tech, kid."

Daniel froze. The golden glow vanished, leaving the room plunged back into the dim, flickering orange of the emergency arc-lights. He slid the blueprints under the floorboard just as he heard the heavy, rhythmic thud of combat boots approaching the bench.

It was Kade, followed by two other members of the squad. They looked like they had just walked through a sandstorm, their armor pitted and scorched, but their eyes were fixed on Daniel with the predatory intent of wolves.

"I’m just finishing up," Daniel said, his voice straining to remain steady. He stood up, keeping his back to the bench. "What are you doing back? You weren't supposed to be here until morning."

Kade didn't answer. He reached out and grabbed Daniel by the collar, slamming him back against the cold, metal-plated wall. "Cut the crap. We hit a snag out in the sector. A structural collapse, and then a run-in with a pack of scav-hounds. My rifle didn't jam, sure. But it ran hot—hotter than anything I’ve ever seen. The barrel glowed like a furnace after ten shots."

"That’s because it’s firing with twice the kinetic force it was designed for," Daniel wheezed, grabbing Kade’s wrist. "I told you, I balanced the tolerances. You’re pushing it harder because it’s finally hitting what you’re aiming at."

"You’re lying," one of the other men spat, stepping forward. "We looked at the internal housing. The alloy is different. It’s not standard-issue. You’re running some kind of experiment on us. You’re using our lives to test your tinker-toys."

"I am not," Daniel insisted, his heart racing against his ribs. "I’m just fixing what’s broken. You want to go back to rifles that misfire every other shot? Fine. Take it to the armory and tell them to strip it back to the factory-grade garbage. See how long you last out there then."

Kade tightened his grip, his face inches from Daniel’s. "You don't get it, do you? We aren't your lab rats. If this gear blows up in the field, I’m not waiting for an inquiry. I’m starting with you."

"Are you done yet?" Daniel asked, his voice suddenly hard.

Kade blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in tone.

"If you want to blame someone for your gear being too effective, go ahead," Daniel continued. "But if you hit me, you’re just proving you’re too stupid to know when you’ve been given an advantage. I’m not the enemy here, Kade. I’m the only reason you’re standing here right now instead of leaking blood in the Dead Sector."

Kade’s jaw tightened. He pulled back, his hand trembling with rage, and swung a fist toward Daniel’s head.

Daniel didn't panic. He didn't have the combat training of a Vanguard, but he had the reflexes of someone who spent his life fixing things that moved faster than he did. He ducked, letting the heavy, gauntleted fist slam into the steel wall behind him with a ringing clang.

"You want a fight?" Daniel growled, backing away toward the workbench. "Fine. But you’re going to be the first one to complain when your weapon fails tomorrow."

"You little—" Kade lunged again, but the workshop door flew open with a force that sent it rattling off its hinges.

"That’s enough!"

The voice was like a thunderclap. Kirill strode into the room, his presence sucking the oxygen out of the space. He stopped between Daniel and the squad, his shadow looming over them like a shroud.

"Commander," Kade said, his voice dropping instantly. "This kid—he’s messing with our gear. He’s doing things to the internals that aren't on the books. It’s a liability."

Kirill turned slowly, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Kade. "A liability? Is that what you call it when your unit reports a seventy percent increase in kill-rate during the patrol?"

The room went deathly silent.

"We had zero jams," Kade muttered, looking down at his boots. "But the heat—"

"The heat is the price of power," Kirill interrupted, his tone chillingly calm. "I don't pay you to complain about your gear getting warm, Kade. I pay you to clear the sector. You want a rifle that stays cold? Take a broom and go work in the mess hall."

Kirill turned to Daniel, his gaze sharp enough to cut glass. "You. Explain yourself."

Daniel stood tall, his hands tucked behind his back to hide their slight tremor. "They’re using the weapons beyond their factory specs because the alignment is perfect. They aren't used to the efficiency, so they’re over-firing. If they learn to pace their shots, the overheating won't be an issue."

Kirill let out a low, gravelly laugh. He walked over to the workbench, picked up one of the rifles, and examined the action. "You hear that? It’s not the gun that’s the problem. It’s the trigger-happy moron holding it."

Kade went pale. "Commander, I—"

"Get out," Kirill ordered, not even looking back at him. "All of you. And if I hear one more word about the tech, I’ll personally strip you of your rank and toss you into the slums with nothing but a rusted spoon."

The squad scrambled to leave, Kade shooting one last, murderous look at Daniel before disappearing into the hallway.

The door swung shut, leaving Daniel and Kirill alone in the humming silence.

"You’ve got a knack for pissing off the wrong people, kid," Kirill said, setting the rifle down. "That was a high-ranking squad. They aren't just muscle; they’re the backbone of my outer operations."

"They don't understand how the gear works," Daniel replied, wiping his palms on his trousers. "They think it’s magic or sabotage."

"To them, it is magic," Kirill said, leaning against the bench. "And in this city, people fear what they don't understand. If you want to survive here, you need to be more than just a repairman. You need to be a force."

Daniel looked up at him. "Is that why you brought me here? To be a force?"

"I brought you here because you’re a genius with metal," Kirill said, his eyes scanning the workshop. "But keep this in mind: I protected you because you’re useful. If you ever stop being useful—or if you become more trouble than you’re worth—you’re on your own."

Daniel felt a chill run down his spine, but he nodded. "I understand."

"Good," Kirill said, turning toward the door. "Now, I’ve got a bigger problem. The scouts found a cache in the North Sector, but the lock is a pre-war encrypted bypass. It’s fused, dead, and buried under a collapsed spire. I need you to go out there and open it."

Daniel hesitated. "You want me to go into the field?"

"I want you to see the scope of what we’re doing," Kirill said, his mouth curling into a grin. "And I want to see if your talent works on stuff that’s been rotting in the dirt for three hundred years. Be ready at dawn. We’re leaving the compound."

As Kirill exited the room, Daniel let out the breath he’d been holding. He leaned back against the workbench, his legs finally giving way. He looked down at the floorboard where the blueprints were hidden.

He wasn't just a repairman anymore. He was an asset, a target, and now, a scout for the most dangerous group in the city.

"Kinetic accelerators," he whispered to the shadows, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "Let’s see if I can make the world fall into line."

He turned back to the workbench, his eyes burning with a new, dangerous resolve. There was no going back to the slums. He had to be better than Kirill, better than the Academy, and better than the System itself.

He didn't need to be an F-Rank. He just needed to be the one who could fix the unfixable.