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《Supervillainy and Other Poor Career Choices》Chapter Fifty Two

“You know, before you showed up here I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me,” Overdrive teased from her position at the back of her car.

And it was a car now, rather than a rough hodge-podge between tank and drag racer.

“You’re valuable to me,” Erich grunted as he kept his eyes on the screen in front of him.

“Oh really-”

“As a source of parts,” he continued before the Artificer could finish whatever she’d been about to say.

He didn’t have to look up to know that Overdrive was pouting; the outrageously dressed woman no doubt upset that he’d cut off her attempts to tease him.

He didn’t care, he was too busy trying to get a hard-light panel at just the right angle to deflect force while still covering a decent area of the vehicle.

Shields, he thought. Why did so many racers invest in bigger, more armoured vehicles, when shields were both light and durable.

Sure, it was called the death-race, but at least half of the name was race.

Still it had been a few months now, and that should have been long enough for Overdrive’s competition to have adapted to her new strategy.

“Is the plan still working?” He asked, finally turning to look at the woman.

Only to flush and splutter as he found himself staring a pair of large round and entirely bare tits.

“Well, it was a bit harder than usual, but I managed to fluster you,” Overdrive grinned as she pulled her top back down.

Foul woman, Erich thought as tried to stop the blood rushing to his face – and other regions. Amazing breasts though.

Evidently happy that she’d finally managed to throw the engineer off balance, the woman finally answered his question.

“As far the plan, it’s still working but some people are already switching up their loadout to counter it.”

Erich nodded absently.

The ‘plan’ was relatively simple. Make Overdrive’s vehicle as fast as possible by stripping off all the armour and replacing it with Hard-Light shield generators. The shields didn’t even have to be particularly strong. Just strong enough to keep Overdrive intact while she pushed out of the initial pack. From there she could usually stay out of range of any of the other racer’s weapon systems and win the race pretty much unmolested.

It was a simple plan. One Erich was surprised he hadn’t seen before.

Though I suppose if I were in one of those cars I might be less than willing to trade protection or firepower for speed, he supposed.

As it was, he had been on the outside looking in, and could pretty glibly make that suggestion.

Though I suppose it says just how desperate and frazzled Overdrive was the she agreed to it.

Though she’d had a condition, one he’d reluctantly he agreed to.

He couldn’t provide his services to any of the other racers.

Which pretty well nixed my plan to use Overdrive’s success to get an in with the other Artificers in the Dome, he thought glumly.

Still, things were working out just fine for now. Given the simplicity of the components he was asking her for, the female gladiator could still keep pace with his demand for parts.

And by the time she can’t she’ll either be free or dead.

Personally, he was hoping for the former, because it would be a pain to have to build a new working relationship with another racer.

He was reasonably sure he could tempt her into working with him when she left the Dome. Amongst other things, he was reasonably sure she wouldn’t have anywhere to go.

People didn’t sign up with the Dome because they were replete with options in the first place.

No, the second Overdrive was out on the streets she would be hunted by every gang in the city hoping to use her services, or rather, press her into service.

He at least liked to think that by being the devil she knew, he was a more palatable option.

“What are you scheming about over there?” Overdrive popped up and jabbed a long finger into the cool metal of his helmet.

“How do you know I’m scheming?” He grunted as he irritably swiper her finger away.

He had a helmet on after all.

“You aren’t fiddling with the pad, and if you’re not fiddling with the pad, and you’re not talking, you’re scheming,” Overdrive grinned triumphantly. “Those three things are like, all you do.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Erich scoffed, and a little offended despite himself. “Cumulatively, you’ve known me for enough hours to equate on full day. One full day is not enough time to have the faintest clue ‘about all the things I do’.”

Overdrive was undeterred, still smiling as she practically danced away. “Yep. Which only makes it sadder really.”

Erich growled, but resisted the urge to argue. The woman was trying to rile him up.

Not out of any maliciousness, but simply for her own entertainment.

“I know I’m one of the few people you have the capacity to communicate with on any regular basis,” he sighed, “but would it kill you be a little more serious.”

He almost missed the days of her trying to brain him with a wrench.

And the sad thing was, he still didn’t know whether the ‘Flirty Overdrive’ or the ‘Angry Overdrive’ was the real one.

More than that, he wondered if even she knew anymore.

Chat-Log (excerpt exported from Slave-Com 12 on 15/09/2019)

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