The small crowd dispersed as the man drove off, while Rion approached a street stall, vibrant lights adorned its edges, casting a colorful glow onto the surrounding area.
Even though this part of Western District had many restaurants that offered fine dining experiences that were not too shabby, most people of meager income liked to eat out in the streets or at home.
This showed as the street was filled with rickety, dusty stalls. Various chefs and vendors cooked up authentic meals using simple ovens and furnaces.
The tantalizing scent of seasoned meat wafted through the air, enticing his senses. With eager anticipation, he surveyed the mouthwatering selection of dishes laid out before him, his stomach voicing its approval with a low rumble.
Drawing closer to the stall, he marveled at the vendor's deft hands as they expertly tended to skewers over the crackling flames. The stall boasted an enticing array of savory delights, each dish exuding irresistible aromas. Amidst the hustle and bustle of the city's nocturnal activity, the rhythmic sizzle of skewers on the grill and the melodic clink of utensils created a comforting symphony, adding to the vibrant ambiance.
"What can I get for you, sir?" the vendor called, his voice a blend of cheer and weariness.
He considered the options, then settled on a local favorite – skewers of grilled meat marinated in a flavorful blend of spices. The vendor expertly prepared the dish, skillfully assembling a fragrant medley of flavors. Upon receiving his supper, he paid the vendor and thanked him with a nod.
With skewers in hand, he found a quiet spot by a makeshift table. As he savored each bite, the warmth of the spices mingled with the cool night breeze.
"Yeah... That's the stuff," he moaned with a contented sigh. Apart from the fact that he had another chance at life, one of the things he was grateful for in this world was the food.
Back in his previous world, all he could afford to eat everyday was low-grade nutritional paste that would taste like a mixture of sand and paper to his current sensibilities. Day in and day out, he endured the dull routine, fueling his body with mere sustenance devoid of any pleasure or satisfaction. But here, a tantalizing array of flavors awaited him at every turn.
No longer constrained by the limitations of his past, he reveled in the opportunity to indulge his taste buds without restraint. Each day brought forth a feast of culinary delights, from savory skewers grilled to perfection to aromatic dishes bursting with spices and herbs.
The districts' sounds formed a distant backdrop to his thoughts, and he reflected on the events of the evening in between the meal.
Despite the fact that the deal with Cobra had gone better than he expected, he still maintained a pragmatic outlook. The criminal underworld thrived on unpredictability, and alliances were often as fragile as glass. Cobra might be a partner now, but in the face of benefits, their alliance would break apart in a second.
Finishing his quick supper, Rion discarded the skewer sticks in a nearby bin. With a sense of satisfaction, he resumed his journey through the bright, neon-lit streets, his silver-white hair occasionally catching glints of the vibrant lights.
Every corner of Pinecrest seemed alive, teeming with activity. People mingled in the squares, vendors peddled their wares, and distant music played from hidden alleys. Rion gave a few quick nods to the neighbors who greeted him as he passed, keeping his interactions minimal. His brown eyes, scanning his surroundings, held no desire for small talk.
As he stepped into his humble abode, the door closed firmly behind him, sealing him off from the outside world. The tranquility of his living space washed over him like a soothing wave, providing a refuge from the hustle and bustle of the city. Inside, the air carried a comforting scent, a mix of his own essence mingled with the remnants of his solitary pursuits.
Surrounded by the familiar sights and sounds of his home, he felt a sense of calm settle over him. Here, in this quiet sanctuary, he could finally unwind and recharge after a long day. The familiar furniture and belongings seemed to welcome him back, offering solace in their steadfast presence.
He walked over to his desk, where a pile of papers and sketches lay scattered. They were the blueprints he had been working on for the past six months. He cleared most of them away, leaving that of his latest project: a magnetic handgun. He had begun working on it ever since he discovered the limitations of his Resonance ability.
All the tests he had run on his ability confirmed that it could only enhance machinery with magnetic or electrical components. But the abysmal circumstances he found himself in made it almost impossible to get one that could fit his current needs.
That was why he decided to create his own weapon, one that would complement his Resonance. Based on the availability of materials, even though magnetic and electro-magnetic weapons were not the strongest he could build, they were the most viable.
Ballistic weapons were by far the cheapest and simplest weapon that he could build. Their low tech, low maintenance nature made them very easy to produce. Besides, based on what he had garnered, electro-magnetic weapons were considered high level technology on this planet.
Another reason he decided to build a magnetic weapon was because the principles underlying the magnetic handgun could be extrapolated to other firearms, each tailored to specific needs and scenarios. For instance, by refining the magnetic propulsion system and optimizing barrel length and rifling, he could create a magnetic rifle for enhanced accuracy and extended range compared to traditional firearms.
Similarly, the concept could be applied to submachine guns, offering rapid-fire capabilities without sacrificing control or accuracy. With a magnetic propulsion system driving the ammunition, the weapon would be capable unleashing a hail of bullets with deadly precision, ideal for close-quarters combat or suppressive fire scenarios. The potential applications seemed limitless, limited only by his ingenuity and resourcefulness.
Apart from this, the strength of the magnetic weapons straightforwardly scaled with their material composition and if electromagnetic weapons were considered, it's power supply. With access to better alloys, polymers, and magnetic components, he could seamlessly upgrade his creations by replacing inferior parts in his weapons with higher-quality counterparts, thereby increasing their overall effectiveness and reliability.
Picking up a pen, he began revising the intricate blueprint, his ambidextrous nature and exceptional multitasking abilities allowing him to seamlessly add details to different areas simultaneously.
Given that they worked together to form the core propulsion system of the magnetic handgun, he paid special attention to the design of the magnetic accelerator coil and the magnetic coil barrel.
Since a lot of the materials he needed to make both parts included commonly used materials like iron and steel, he had discreetly included some of it in the list he provided to Cobra.
'If only I had access to a super fabricator...' he sighed as he continued working on improving the magnetic field strength and efficiency of the design.
As Rion continued his work, his thoughts drifted to potential modifications for the magnetic handgun. The idea of incorporating modular attachments, such as biometric sensors or integrated sights, crossed his mind. These additions could provide adaptability in different situations, making the weapon a versatile tool in his arsenal.
One thing at a time...
Some time later, as Pinecrest succumbed to the peaceful night, his eyelids started to feel heavy, and a wave of fatigue gushed over him.
I guess that's all for today.
He rubbed his eyelids and rose from his desk, heading to the bedroom. As he lay down on his bed, his mind still buzzed with thoughts of tomorrow. His partnership with Cobra would officially begin, and with it, access to new resources, new connections—steps that would edge him closer to becoming truly formidable.
Alright...
With a final, contemplative glance around his room, he closed his eyes and went to sleep.
The next morning, Rion awoke to the soft glow of dawn filtering through his window. The city was just beginning to stir as the first rays of sunlight painted the sky in hues of pink and gold. Getting up from the bed, he proceeded with his morning routine – the regimen of exercises designed to further attune his physique to its full potential. The fluid movements, reminiscent of the combat techniques he had mastered in his former world, flowed seamlessly as he embraced the dawn's quiet energy.
After the brief but invigorating training session to sharpen his combat skills, he prepared for the day ahead. Dressed in a set of baggy overalls that allowed freedom of movement, he slung a backpack over his shoulder, its contents a mix of tools, a tablet for reference, and a few other items. As he left his home, the Western district greeted him with its familiar sounds and rhythm.
The journey to Cobra's garage was routine by now. He navigated the streets with the ease of someone intimately acquainted with the district's layout. The early morning air carried a crispness, and the subtle hum of the waking metropolis surrounded him.
Some time later, he arrived at Cobra's garage with the mask already covering his face. As he approached, Rion noticed the bustling energy sorrounding the criminal hub. The guards at the gate were the same people from the previous day and they let him in without any hassle. As he entered Cobra's office, he spotted him at his usual spot, the cigar between his fingers emitting a thin wisp of smoke.
"Morning, Mr. Nobody. Ready to get to work?"
He responded with a curt nod, his gaze focused on the day's agenda. Without further delay, they proceeded to a secluded corner of the garage, where Cobra gestured towards a space that had been transformed into a makeshift workshop.
"The boys worked overnight to set this up for you. It's yours now," Cobra stated, gesturing towards the tools, machinery, and workbenches neatly arranged in the workshop. The metallic scent of freshly laid tools and the hum of machinery filled the air.
Inspecting the area, Rion felt a tiny bit of happiness for the practicality of the arrangement. An obviously secondhand but sturdy worktable, equipped with the basic tools he needed, stood ready for his projects. Chipped shelves lined with materials and components flanked the space, and a dim overhead light cast a focused glow on the designated workspace.
"Appreciate it," Rion acknowledged, a faint smile playing on his lips. Although barebones, he finally had a private and secure workshop.
Cobra proceeded to discuss the specifics of the materials they had gathered. However, he mentioned that a few crucial components were currently unavailable and would take some time to procure.
"Some of the items you've listed are a bit rare around here. It will take at most two days before we can get our hands on everything you need." Cobra assured, his tone carrying a hint of genuine commitment.
"I can wait," Rion responded in understanding, mentally adjusting his timeline.
Cobra surveyed the workshop, his eyes scrutinizing the tools neatly arranged. "Make yourself at home, Mr. Nobody. The team's been briefed not to disturb you unless necessary."
Rion nodded in agreement. One of the conditions he had put down was that he worked without surveillance. The argument he used was that his techniques were personal and he had to keep them confidential.
Cobra, with a final nod, left him to his work. As the workshop door closed behind him, he immersed himself in the aura of his new workplace.
Alone in the dimly lit workshop, he embarked on his solitary ritual, meticulously arranging his tools, each one methodically placed within arm's reach for optimal efficiency and spreading out blueprints for the modified firearms with the precision of a seasoned craftsman. The faint hum of machinery reverberated through the air, intermingling with the sharp scent of metal, creating an atmosphere charged with creative energy.
With practiced hands, he navigated the cluttered space, each movement deliberate and purposeful. He sifted through bins of assorted materials, his keen eye discerning the subtle differences between them as he selected the perfect components to weld and assemble.
Hours passed in a blur of focused activity. Rion's hands moved deftly, assembling parts, aligning sights, and fine-tuning the firing mechanisms. He immersed himself in the process, the outside world fading away as he became absorbed in his work.