The house was as run down as I had expected it to be, homeless vagabonds living near enough that they gave me dirty looks while I waited, revolver visible to anyone with a bad idea. The floor of the place was stained with something only God could identify, smelling of a mix of sweat, vomit, blood, and something else that rolled it all up and made it die. Not the best place for meeting a new hire, but better than being out in the open in my own opinion. I tried not to lean against anything, temporarily crushing the habit to do so.

It took several minutes before a woman walked through the door, a red baseball cap worn slightly tilted to the side, long hair dyed blue and hanging down her back, prison clothing fresh and standing out against the background. Her hands clenched and unclenched repeatedly as she walked with a particular spring in her step. I remained at a distance, my instincts warning me of unseen danger.

Her alias was AZTea, and she gave me an enthusiastic grin. "So, got a job for me? What is it? Do I get to build something? Break something? Shoot someone? Pick a lock?" The way she rattled off various guesses while completely disregarding the smell and look of the place was a little off-putting. My instincts told me to just shoot her and get the hell out. I ignored them and took a deep breath before walking past her. "Follow me. I'll show you where we'll be working."

The shed was just as I left it, the NPCs staring at the woman behind me who fairly skipped along, her hands working over the combat knife she'd been given in the tutorial. She stared at the unfinished Slapdash that was still sitting on the workbench, eyes glittering.

"You'll be building either the bolts or the trigger assembly for each of these. I'll show you how to do it and if you have any questions, just let me know. For now I can only pay you a small amount of credits, but once we start making more sales I can get you more, though the goal is to rent out an actual workspace, so don't expect much in the way of payment until that time comes. Once it does, the money will roll in so fast you won't know how to spend it all." With all that said I began getting all the necessary parts and pieces for the two items while AZTea closed the door behind us, leaving us alone in the candlelight.

I shoved the other supply bags underneath the workbench so she'd at least have a place to stand as she watched, fidgeting with a nut and a screw. She occasionally asked questions about how or why I made different adjustments, her face a bit closer than I would like due to the cramped workspace. It even got to the point where I was a little distracted by the freckles she'd chosen to dot her face with, her eyes a bright green. Two years with little human contact outside pretending to be an arms dealer didn't make for good communication skills, though my molotovs had become fairly widespread among normal players after the first riot even though I hadn't sold any since then.

After showing her how to make both the bolt and trigger assembly, she sat down against the wall with the bag of parts nearby, bobbing her head to music only she could hear, only asking for one of the tools I had on hand when she needed to file something down or screw something together.

Things moved far faster than they had before, though we ended up needing to have two candles lit in order to see what we were doing. I didn't mind the scents of citrus and vanilla mixing together much, the ambience of candles and parts being put together or blocks of wood being cut soothing to me.

AZTea hummed to herself every now and then, the sounds a little grating to me, though I wouldn't begrudge someone else their little habits as everyone had something different about them. I noticed she also had to adjust the way she was seated every now and then, having to move her hair so it wouldn't get pulled when she leaned a little closer to focus on what she was doing.

I reached into my bag and cut a strip of duct tape off, folded it in half and then handed it to her. "Tie your hair up if it's getting in the way." She took it from me and loosely tied her hair back before returning to filing down her unfinished bolt.

When we put all the finished parts together for each rifle she held down the pipe while I screwed the brackets on. She particularly enjoyed being allowed to weld the sights onto the front of the barrel while I took care of affixing the bolt and trigger assembly to the wooden frame.

By the time she had to log out we had made a total of twelve rifles, four more than the locker could hold. I ended up moving the remaining supplies around so that I could just shove the remaining weapons inside a now empty duffle bag. I paid her the twenty five remaining credits I had on me while she added me to her friends list and then logged off, giving me a wave.

It felt good to work with someone else even if they were drastically different from myself. Done for the moment I just sat on the workbench, just feeling the virtual extension of my leg. I hadn't actually taken the time to appreciate having it despite the immense relief it gave me, being able to feel the sensation of my clothes rubbing up against skin again, instead of phantom pains and itching.

AZTea however gave me the impression of a girl with boundless energy. Her habit of always doing something reminded me of some people I'd once known who always had to be working on something.

I just hoped I could pay her enough to keep her from deciding to turn over my location to one of the guilds. My paranoia told me to just cut her loose despite the fact that she'd just helped me.

While I could've waited to sell all the guns at once, I decided it would be better to make a basic sale to more or less keep the lights on and the money flowing. I contacted the smaller guild that had offered to buy the shipment of ten guns, saying that I had a duffle bag of five rifles two hundred fifty credits, and that I'd meet them on the northeast edge of the market, and to wear a red jacket so I could identify them. I double checked that the shed was locked up nice and tight before I left, the extra bag slung over my shoulder, weapons clattering against each other every now and then.

On the way out of the southern part of town I noticed some Lion's Mane and Crescent Shield members wandering around, at least two in each team armed with some sort of firearm. I gave them as wide a berth as I could manage, occasionally switching streets to ensure I wasn't followed. Why they continued to have such a problem with me after all the riots happened, I couldn't tell. I just picked up the pace, crossing the main street into the northern part of town right as the sun set below the walls.

It didn't take long before I spotted my customer, the bright red jacket standing out from the crowd, almost tacky in the way the man wore it. I strolled right up next to him, giving a polite nod as a greeting. He nodded once to the bag, raising his eyebrows, and I slung it around to my front. I unzipped it just a little, one of the barrels glinting from one of the many lights from market stalls shining upon it.

I zipped it back up without a word as the man passed me the money, the bag being taken off my hands a moment later. He nodded once more before we both turned away from each other and parted ways. Counting out the money I grinned, seeing all two hundred fifty credits. I even had the other rifles available for later deals.

Everything had gone so smoothly at this point that I was almost afraid of the success, looking down alleys and at random people, fully expecting a bullet to find me at any moment as I trekked back to the shed and logged off for a quick meal.

Normally I would've just decided to call it for the night, having spent all day making weapons, hiring someone else, and then selling. All in a day's work for the average merchant player. I still felt unsatisfied though, itching to do something else. I logged back in after scarfing down some instant ramen.

I checked how many bullets I had in my Cobra and how many that I still had otherwise. Since Lion's Mane had chosen to make me a problem, I'd become one. I emptied out my personal duffle bag onto the workbench and slung it across my back, keeping the Recycler Rifle locked away for tonight. I stuffed a box of ammo in the other pocket of my hoodie, and left the shed behind.

Avoiding the few working street lights, I began walking after stuffing my boots inside the bag so that I would make less noise. If there was one thing I was good at, it was moving quietly. Moccasins would've been just as good as socks, but I made do. The feeling of safety fell away from me, the darkness closing in as I began scanning my surroundings methodically. I went through alleys, over fences, using sturdy pipes and dumpsters to reach rooftops of smaller buildings.

Finally I reached one of the more well travelled streets, most of the lights working here as players and NPCs walked around. Guild and non-guild players alike walked the streets, most chatting, others splitting off and heading down side streets. Poking my head above the concrete railing on top of a storefront, I watched a team of three head down a street that led west toward my shed, while another pair split off from each other in the opposite direction, both of them saying rather loudly that they'd shot to each other if they found a quest. Both were marked with a Lion.

Christ, do they have to talk so loud?

I dropped down from the roof, my legs on the display turning yellow for a few moments as the impact dropped my health by a tenth. I didn't stop, rushing across the street while receiving a few looks from NPCs and a regular player. I paid the NPCs no mind, though I did toss the player ten credits while bringing a finger up in front of my face mask.

Once I reached the side street I carefully began tailing the lone guild player, my eyes on the pistol that was stuffed into a holster on his left thigh. My footsteps being nearly silent made it easy to sneak up behind him, the various sounds of the city around us masking my presence. It only took a single bullet, hammer clicking as it slammed back into place, the gunshot ringing out while his head jerked forward and he fell to the ground in a puddle of fragments, though his corpse dropped nothing.

There was an inquisitive shout from the next street over, and I quickly ducked behind a small portion of a shop's entrance that was just barely big enough for me to squeeze into. The sound of running footsteps was heard from up ahead.

Not even thirty seconds later the other player arrived, and while he did see me, he didn't get a chance to react before I put a bullet in him as well. From him an item did drop, a bandolier that I stuffed in my bag, still full of pistol rounds for the gun I never saw him draw. I took off back into the dark before anyone else could show up, the only sound from me being cloth against concrete and asphalt.