Of Metas and Metals (Jax and Stitch)

[Jax]

There are wonderful parts of New York city, Part where beautiful buildings grace the sky, clean and free from trash they bring to mind how much hope and beauty resides in an ugly world... then their are the parts that bring to mind the ugly end of a incontinent cow. The pits, the slums, the ghettos, the 'live anywhere but here's. This is where the universe had deposited it's garbage and that is where most of them would die. But... sometimes in the darkness a candle can be lit. Someone entering the block and the area around it would be hard pressed to pick out the difference at first just a feeling a lighter feeling then the neighboring area. Then slowly they might pick out the differences. Gang tags painted over and less track, people walking with a little less fear, vehicles parked on the street without a being bobby trapped to prevent them from being stolen. The drunks, the hobos were still there but the booze bottles were in bags, and the hobos seemed less... fearful themselves. Here and their up high you might spot a flash of purple light on a building and if you spotted on of the area's residences seeing it. You might see them give a little wave at the purple light.

In the smack dab in the middle of the territory lays a building ravaged by time and... other factors as the metal pipes and spikes wedged in the walls attested to. It was a old run down garage coated in layers of graffiti though no gang tags, the once spinning sign on a pole log since stolen and recently replaced with the only bit of beautification the owner had done. A few pieces of rebar bent into shape and wielding together before being wrapped in razor wire and three layers of green Christmas tree lights proclaimed loudly to the night sky.

26

The owner sometimes wondered how many got the joke and then shrugged and went to not caring or working, or drinking but regardless it was getting back to time as we get back to the point. The point or points reside on the head of the owner of the establishment a young man known as Jax Gardener, the reason for the change in the area. It wasn't a goal of his. It was just something that happened. He had objected to people tagging his buildings with their symbol and discussed it with them. He discussed the fact he wasn't going to pay protection money with them, once he discussed the fact they were not going to sell recreational substances to children in the area. After repeated broken bones from various discussions the gangs had made a... strategic advance to the rear while they figured out the situation. And the area had turned to a neutral territory to the point they would pay the owner to use his parking lot to have talks between the gangs at. Word had gotten around fast after he threw a motorcycle at someone that while neutral he was not Switzerland. He was much less friendly.

So it came to be that Jax Gardener was sitting on a lawn chair on his property furrowing his brow as he looked down at a axe blade he was sharpening beyond him several gangs in various colors were talking while standing on the parking lot. Voices began to raise, body language became angrier and it began to reach a fevered pitch... just as Jax slammed his axe to the ground just as runes glowing in the darkness erupted from it's blade. It embedded itself up to the shaft in the asphalt and silence erupted from the parking lot as heads turned to look at the man sitting on the lawn chair. He sat seeming pretty relaxed as he banged his head lightly to the music pumping into his headphones, three rows of black hair cut down to the scalp lay side by side in a triple bright green mohawk perched brightly upon black shorn short hair. Piercings covered his face and despite the nights chill he wore but a pair of tattered blue jeans, a pair of biker boots whose toes had been reinforced with steel, and a black shirt that said in white letters "I am not anti social, I just hate you." The gang members present looked at him as villagers regarding the volcano that just puffed out some smoke.

Jax pulled back on his axe and yanked it easily out of the ground and pulled it up to give it one more swipe with a file before looking up at those gathered and sneering at them.

"K, Dat's it. Ya is getting rowdy I could hear ya over ma music so get ya @$$es out of ere, ya know da rules ya get rowdy ya leave... or dah we need ta talk manners again."

Jax glared a challenge at those assembled most would see a punk but they saw a man they had seen drain a city block of power and throw a lightning bolt, a man they had see punch a car and win, a man they had seen shrug off bullets like rain... granted they didn't see the bruises the bullets left but the point remained they had seen his wrath and wanted little to do with it. Colors spread apart and entered cars and the roaring of engines split the night as Jax stood up to go inside while up above a small figure, made of wire and spare parts with a single glowing purple eye within the hood of a old lamp gleamed out and called out in high speed.

"01000010011001010010000001110011011101010111001001100101001000000111010001101111001000000110010001110010011010010110111001101011001000000111100101101111011101010111001000100000010011110111011001100001011011000111010001101001011011100110010100101110~"

The voice was cut off as a bolt bounced off it's 'head' and Jax turned around to look at his visitor.

"Can I help ya or are ya just here ta ogle ma?"

[glenn]

She had watched for the time being, watched safely from a distance as this person casually drove off several gangs from his property. Stitch was impressed, not because of his unusual prowess, nor because of the calm he showed, but rather, because he was recommended to her from one of her well maintained sources. Despite this, she had her doubts about the man and his work. The building was run down, dilapidated the original sign was gone, replaced with....scrap metal artwork.

She was already doubting her sources choice of craftsmen. Even if he did make mention that he wasn't human. Much like her.

She walked carefully across the parking lot, her hips swaying, the moonlight glinting off her ghost suits materials; a dark monochrome ash and slate grey that hugged her tightly but offered far more protection, than what some would assume at a first glance. The soft orange glow of her visor, the only thing that seemed to bring color to her otherwise colorless motif.

The inside of the shop was...frankly no better. Metal and bits of scrap scattered haphazardly across the floors and counters and she could swear she picked up the faintest odor of month old beer and spoiled eggs. She stared around at the interior for a moment longer before her attention turned to Jax who was, at this moment, bouncing a bolt off the head of a nearby robot. Which looked less like a robot and more like a mutilated lamp post.

As he spoke up, to which she noted his jaded irritation -probably from her just staring at everything- she spoke up with a voice that was cold and flat; monotonous. "I do require your assistance. Yes. A source of mine told me you are capable of repairing anything and everything, made of metal correct?" She unfastened the blades from her sides and her back, each one was showing severe signs of usage and wear, cracks that indicated severe applications of force possibly colliding with the blade as well as chips and bends along the edge, as if she had been hitting something hard quite frequently, like stone or bone.

"I can pay you for the time spent fixing them. My kukri, they are quite..crucial to my job." The sound of her voice was warbled and distorted, sounding almost robotic as she looked at him, her blue eyes hidden by her goggled visor.

[Jax]

Jax taking the weapons from her hands like someone snatching a baby out of the hands of someone covered in fire looked at the blades juggling them with complete disregard for the edges, they pressed into his flesh but not a drop fell from his skin, it didn't do more then crease his skin. He glared back and forth from blades to the client and added a few numbers up in his head. Sure he could tell something was up with this woman from the fact she was in his place and had gotten by his 'guards' secondly the way she was dressed but the kicker was the weapons. Despite the wear they were well taken care of, no sign of them being used as a club, blackened with carbon to prevent shine and the alloy... titanium and... took hold of on of the blades and licked the blade. He smacked his lips as he tilted his head.

"Hmm titanium, aluminum... and vanadium wit a touch of magnesium. A alloy commonly called Beta 5 plus."

Simply embedded his axe in a wall rather then set it down he walked over to a counter and placed the blades on them except one and held it up to the light as reached into his fridge and pulled out a beer which a flick of his thumb weakened the cap enough to pop off the cap easy in a somewhat impressive way. Point for style were important. The lay of the urban jungle, when you find someone in your house don't appear as prey. He seemed nonplussed by the fact the woman had gotten past his steel doors, his sealed windows, he went over the access points and vowed to beef up security... maybe some claymore mines... But he kept his attention on the blade tossing it up in the air and looking at it from all sides before tossing it on the counter jutting out his chin.

"I could fix it... Yes.. but i won't. I don't deal in #&*#."

Taking a sip of his beer and then pausing to feel his pants with a free hand he raised a cigarette to his lips and held it out as another small being rushed to his side with a lighter. Unlike the one on the roof this one had four eyes made of sparkplugs, they glowed purple in the light as it's arms made of wire held the lighter up and soon the cigarette caught, rather then the usual red cherry it was green and the scent of burning copper filled the air as gray green smoke came out of the end. The smell covered up the smell that became more and more pronounced the longer one stayed in Jax's place. The eggs and beer smell was first but stronger smells drifted, the smell of oil rancid and old, gasoline steeped in blood, and a fever hot scent of metal. The hygyne of the room was questionable since the only semblance of a bed there was a pile of blankets and pillows in a corner stained beyond the ability to see their original colors and yet...

"Ta Beta 5 alloys are decent alloys as it goes, as long as ya want something light dat will hold an edge. But they are ^#&*ing weak ta repeated impacts like ya have been inflicting on ya blades. Give dem a couple months and dey will snap at da worst possible time. Titanium, a fine metal and very strong for da weight but even alloyed it's no steel. So fa ya purposes dem swords is $&*#@ junk long term. I don't fix #@&*ing junk..."

Jax paused and regarded the blades. They were well used and that combined with her apperence... he had heard stories. Tales of a ghost... a ghost that left very real wounds. Puffing out a smoke ring Jax reached out and started bending one of the blades. It snapped in half loudly and Jax sneered at it.

"Dis #*@$ is just worthless for dis use. Who ever made des fa ya ripped ya off... yes I know ya didn't make them. If ya did ya wouldn't be asking ma ta fix dem. But... I heared things..."

Jax turned and regarded the woman tilted his head as he walked under a mural on the ceiling made up of hundreds of pictures of cars, bikes, planes, and women on or near cars, bikes, or planes. He nodded and held up a finger.

"One ah will na fix those but will buy dey scrap off ya. Need some titanium fa another project."

Another finger was up held and his grip on the beer weakened.

"Two, ya never sneak in ma house without permission on pain of #*(@ horrible death. Ah am talking stuff dat would make Vlad dey impaler $#&* his pants."

He didn't seem angry as he said this matter of factly and a third finger was held up and the beer wobbled in his grip.

"Thirdly ah willing ta make ya new blades, blades day don't feel like something ya can win in a crane game. Lighter, stronger, sharper."

A forth finger was held up and the beer hurtled towards the floor to be caught by another 'robot' who cheered his catch.... then tripped spilling the beer on the floor.

"Fourthly if ya shame ma blades I promise ta hunt ya down and well... insert threat here."

Jax waved his hand sarcastically and then held up the thumb.

"Finally ya will pay ma what I am worth. It's not da principle of da thing it's da money. I get payed what ah am worth or others might get da impression ah am da salvation army or some # &*@ like dat. Is all dat clear?"

[glenn]

Only once did she tense up during the entire encounter and that was when he grabbed the blades from her. He was rude, brash, and not the least bit crude when it came to speaking to other people. But when he correctly identified the metals used in the construction of her blades, she had to raise an eyebrow in surprise. Despite his shortcomings he was an interesting person, handy for a lack of a better word, as he explained to her what the blades where made with. It was interesting, learning that there was someone like him hiding out in the ghetto's of new-york city; a metallurgical meta-human.

When he explained to her that they were in fact,garbage, garbage that was, for the record, barely even worth his notice she opened her mouth to speak but instead said nothing, choosing to remain quiet while he ranted and went on his tirade of how shit those blades were. To say that her stance -disciplined and very much in control - was unsettling would be an understatement. Not once did she shake with anger or even attempt to cut him off, she merely listened with an eerily foreboding patience as she slowly reached up and removed the visor, revealing a pair of blue ices -as cold as ice- that merely blinked a few times in response to his ranting and raving.

She glanced to him taking a sip of his beer, her eyes darting along with every one of his movements, no matter how small or insignificant. To the untrained eye she would appear to be paranoid of her surroundings but in reality, she was watching, her focus divided amongst the various sounds and while she didn't have some kind of superhuman hearing, she was still good enough that she would certainly pick up on any...dissonances in the ambient background noise.

But when he finally finished his rant, uttering numerous threats at her, she merely looked at him, blinked once again and spoke in that same robotic warble. "Very well, how much will this cost?" She didn't so much brush off his threats as she committed them to heart, those ice blue eyes flicking with a brief discharge of electricity as she slowly placed the goggles back across her eyes with a soft click, the soft orange glow returning to them.

[Jax]

Jax stuck out his lower lip and began to make putting noises loudly as he thought and then tapping his steel tipped boots on the concrete he turned and snapped his fingers loudly and without warning. Another figure ran up, this small 'robot' was spray painted gold and held over it's head was a calculator with a printer attached and it had a green accounting visor over it's 'eyes'. It unfolded small legs from the calculator and turned on the calculator before looking up to Jax and nodding confidently. Jax bent down and thought out loud.

"Well... let's see... I dink we will go Nanosteel edge dat way we can get a very thin but strong edge. Ah could sharpen that down ta... oh... two... three nanometers thick with some care. Hmm... make dat da whole thing. Sure if I made it as thick as ya blades are now they would be heavy but.. wit da nanosteel Ah can make ya a thinner blade as strong as dosh pieces of junk but stronger. Plus thinner means better cutting surface. So we have material which will be a challenge..."

The calculator was banged on hard as Jax's creation banged away on the keys.

"Hmm we have labor fee and ah am going ta assume ya want a rush job on dat and dat ain't cheap."

More banging was heard as the robot looked up and chatted as Jax.

"Right right, sharpening fee. Dat ain't da easiest thing ta do ta sharpen like dat. And ya want three of dem right?"

Jax bent over and looked at the price so far and then straightened up frowning and sighing.

"Well deduct what ah would pay for dat alloy of her old 'blades'"

The sarcasm was thick enough to cut. Before his face shifted and he was back to business.

"Let's see... discount for what she has been daing with dem blades. Plus... Ah am not cranky so give her ma 'Ah don't hate ya #@*@ing guts discount."

Jax looked down and then ripped off the printer paper to look at the price before nodding.

"Okay wit rush job taking about... two days... Yes. I am dat good at what I do... da price comes ta about five thousand dollars. Oh and da ya want any thing carved on da blade or a certain color? And was dat sparkle a hint of a power? Cause I can put some silver pathways in ya blade ta make it even more conductive if ya like. Nah extra charge."

[glenn]

Five thousand for three brand new kukri in two days. She merely nodded softly in agreement as she pulled out a small plastic card and flicked it to him. ? she tapped her foot on the ground, her tone never raising or lowering as she recorded Jax's face for later reconnaissance. Frankly he interested her, if not because of his attitude -which she thought needed vast improvements- then because of his unusual skill with working metal.

Which was, and is, quite rare. Especially when using old fashioned weapons that some have eschewed for guns and bombs. But he worked with all sorts of metal which made her think, as she looked down at her cross bow then back up to him. "Mmm, how much for some various metal tipped bolts? Gold, silver and cold iron. No need to ask questions, I just want to know if you can do it. There should be enough money on that card to pay for those as well, whenever it fancies you."

In total, the amount she had on that one card was worth, by his approximate value, six kukri. Or a load of bolts for her crossbow, which, sadly, had no metal in it. All the moving parts were made with lightweight, yet highly durable polyethylene plastics. An observant person would also note that the bolts that she currently carried on her were a mash up between steel and wooden bolts. Even close inspection would reveal that the wooden bolts were constantly being soaked in a clear liquid; probably poison.

"So ten thousand for the three kukri and some extra bolts, when ever you fancy whipping some up. I'll even provide the materials should you ask."

[Jax]

Jax caught the card and held it for a moment, his cigarette burning and leaving behind a line of ash where the green embers went down the burning paper. He flipped it over a few times as he gazed at it and then raising a single eyebrow he peered at his visitor while pursing his lips which slowly raised in a grin, then a smile, then a rough chuckle escaped his mouth. He slowly shook his head and tossed the card back.

"Okay... got ta admit ya are ba far da funniest ^&*#ing person ah ave dealt wit all $^&*ing day. At least..."

His chuckle vanished and he looked at her suspiciously. Like a light switch being turned off his grim expression glowered at her.

"Ah hope dat was a joke. Cause... dis ain't #@&*ing Macy's. Ah am not set up ta take credit or debit and even if ah ad da tools I wouldn't touch it with a twenty foot #&*@ing pole. In case ya ave not noticed ah prefer being left alone most of da time and sending da government a large flashing sign that says 'notice ma' would take more time den dealing with credit if ah wanted der attention. Ah don't have a secret identity, Ah don't wear masks or hide in da shadows. Ah just am. Na compromises na ever. Dat way lies madness. Da bolts, sure I will da dem. I have da materials and da ability... but not for credit, debit, checks, or money order. Cold hard cash. Half now half when ah deliver is how I usually operate or ya can give ma all now if ya feel trusting. If ya don't have that much in cash..."

He reached back to the fridge pulled out a beer and held it out.

"Ya want a beer and a chat for a bit before I kick ya out? Seriously ya seem more interesting den most so I wouldn't mind a brief visit if ya have nothing better ta da."

Jax looked to the side and looked at the broken kukri and before the visitor could speak he put the beer on a counter and started reaching for the kukris. He held up the broken one and sighed again.

"... dere I go showing off... $#&*@... okay ya have two days ta raise da money ya will owe ma. Ah will be done by din. If na before."

[glenn]

If that was a joke, why wasn't Stitch laughing? Tapping her foot against the ground she shrugged her indifference and voiced her lack of sharing the humor. "I do not see the humor in me giving you ten thousand dollars. Nor do I see how you can relate this to the macy's department store. I also believe the government has no interest in you, when compared to the larger scale black market dealers, and terrorist cells I've silenced. But I will humor you, laugh at your idea of what is a joke and go fetch the money." The way she spoke, her body language, everything pointed to disciplined logical thinking. There was no tact or grace, she was just a little bit blunt. That may be a good, or a bad thing depending on the person she was dealing with. In short she was saying he was more or less, of little importance for the government to deal with.

Though, given that she was a freelance mercenary working for the governments money and that she knew of him, that may or may not be a moot point. "Of course, how often can you get to say you have been paid with government funded money by a freelance assassin? I do not believe many can say that." Turning her back on him, she slipped the card into a small pouch at her hip and made for the exit. "Rest assured, Jax Gardner, you will have your money very shortly. I do not go back on my word. If I am later than my two hour deadline, I was most likely held up by something."

And by held up, she meant got side tracked by a sudden assassination contract. "I will see myself out now if you do not mind. Perhaps when I come back we can share a beer, I don't suppose you have any Alexander Keith's?" Stitch had, if nothing else, good taste when it came to beers, preferring the dark and pale ales from one of the oldest breweries in all of north America.

(Blugh this is so much shorter than my other one. I feel shamed I tell you! SHAAAAMMMEEEED!)