Neopolis was a strange city. Filled with the highest of highs and lowest of lows, virtually every type of person from all walks of life could be found in the mega metropolis. If you were a member of the elite with money and power, then anything you’d want could be yours for the right price. If you were outside of the top echelons of society, however, you’d be at their mercy, trying to survive around the whims of the few and powerful. It was a massive melting pot, and everyone from the beggars in the slums to the ruling elite collided in this city, calling it their home.

Megacorps were at the center of this continuous struggle for control and dominance. These behemoth-like corporations ran the economy, some parts of the government, and most of everything else aboveboard. Because of the vast wealth inequality, street gangs took it upon themselves to run everything underground, controlling most of the organized illegal activities that took place within the city.

Pirates like Damien operated somewhere in the outskirts of this power struggle. With no allegiances to tie them down, and largely playing by their own rules, pirates made a living as mercenaries for hire. This unique position in the city’s hierarchy offered its own set of perks and challenges. They were free to mingle and work with any other party or organization, regardless of that group’s allegiances. But ultimately being outsiders, they could only give their full trust to the other members of their crew. Working with others was a delicate balancing act, and one wrong move would result in death, or possibly worse.

There was a certain thrill in this lifestyle that Damien quickly grew to enjoy. He stood in a sea of possibilities that was Neopolis, and he had every intention of exploring the landscape, and becoming a big player in the city’s underworld. But that could only come with time. There was plenty left to learn about the rules and hidden laws which governed the streets that he now called home, and he’d been soaking up the game from his fellow crew mates.

Perhaps the most important lesson he’d learned was the value of connections. The mercenary lifestyle would inherently make him an outcast, but he still needed access to weapons and other useful goods. Luckily, his partners were well connected, and they were willing to share the good will of the relationships that they’d cultivated without him. It was thanks to them that he learned of the necessity of having a street-ready vehicle, and where exactly one could be obtained.

When Damien arrived at the pick-up location, he went toward the rear entrance, as previously instructed by Marcus. Unpaved gravel led the way to one giant door that looked like it belonged to a hangar more than an automotive shop. Though the gate hung only half-way open, the three broken cars parked just outside looked like they could be piled on top of one another and still fit comfortably through.

The broad entrance made sense to Damien when he stepped inside and saw a stripped-down helicopter under repair. Three drones buzzed around it; one loosening bolts with a power tool, while the other two lifted a panel away. A pair of human legs poked out from the underbelly, and some muffled curse words came from underneath.

The cursing died down and turned into a cordial greeting when Damien stepped forward. “You must be Marcus’ guy. Ghost, was it?”

“Um, yeah,” Damien said as he watched a stout man wiggle out from under the helicopter. His well-worn coveralls were covered in dirt and grime, and he had the look of a man who’d spent the day hard at work.

“Yer copters almost done,” the mechanic said, pulling out a rag and wiping his hands clean. “You got the other half of the payment, right? I need that hundred thousand right now or I can’t let ya leave.”

Damien’s face dropped but the ruse was quickly over when a hearty laugh betrayed the stout man. His entire body jiggled as he deeply enjoyed his own joke, amusing Damien slightly.

“I’m just yanking yer chain. Got yer bike ready to go downstairs. Name’s Bruce, by the way. Pleased to meet ya, friend.”

Damien shook the man’s hand, just now noticing that Bruce spoke with a drawl, dragging his vowels out. “I was expecting a little repair hut,” the pirate said, gesturing to the enormous workspace, “and I definitely wasn’t expecting aircraft.”

“Not too shabby, eh? Started out with just cars and bikes, but now I work with damn near everything. Land, air, or sea. If it’s got motors and moving pieces, I want my hands on em. As for these bad boys,” Bruce nodded toward the drones, who continued taking the frame of the helicopter apart. “I don’t let em have all the fun. I like to get in there myself.”

“Didn’t sound like it with all that swearing.”

Bruce let out another full-body laugh. “Its a labor of love. Come now, I’ll take ya to yer ride.”

Damien nodded and followed along, his excitement growing with every step. Bruce led him under and around a few raised platforms on which vehicles rested, most of them half-assembled. For such a large workshop, it was impressive how neat and tidy it was. Everything seemed to be in its place, the tools in one section, spare parts in another, all of it labeled. Perhaps the drones had been programed to keep it clutter-free.

As they walked, Damien caught a peak through a pair of see-through doors leading into an entirely different area. A beautiful woman on the other side gave a tour around what looked like a showroom, the high-end cars around her dazzling in front of some prospective buyers.

“Those your cars, too?”

“Yep. Started strictly as a repair shop but business has been so good that it expanded into direct sales. I like to stick to the mechanical stuff so I let my employees do all that talking and pencil pushing.”

Bruce took them to one of the walls and tapped on a touchpad, inputting some kind of password. A gate, indistinguishable from the rest of the wall raised itself up, catching Damien off guard. Inside was a platform, just like the ones they’d passed holding the raised vehicles.

“There’s always a secret room, isn’t there?” Damien said as he cracked a smile.

It seemed like every person that Kat and Marcus did business with had some kind of hidden area within a legitimate business. This way they could show off their wares to only the people they trusted. He had to admit that it felt nice to be granted access to these limited areas, like he was a member of some kind of exclusive club.

They entered inside and Bruce pressed a few more buttons on a control console, bringing the platform down one level. “B4,” he said, as they stepped off the platform and continued down the single corridor.

Both walls were covered with rectangular doors leading all the way to the end. Each door was labeled with a letter and a number, and obscure glass covered the contents, teasing the general shape and color of what was held on the other side.

They stopped at the door with the tag B4, and Bruce pulled out a tablet from his pockets. After a few touches on the screen, the glass door slid upward, revealing a crimson red motorcycle, and causing Damien’s heart to skip a beat. He’d fallen in love with the bike the first time he’d seen it advertised, but it was even better in person. He immediately scanned it.

Tiger MK-1

Acceleration [7]

Top Speed [8]

Handling [7]

Attachment Slots Available: 3 (0 currently used)

“Well, whaddya think?” Bruce said, his voice letting off that he was smiling.

“Perfect. Is it ready to go?”

“Not so fast.” He handed Damien the tablet he’d been holding. “You still gotta choose a free attachment. Go ahead and take yer pick.”