O.C. Saar
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General Release | Chapter 8: Your Face Looks Stupid
🕑 Added 2025-06-02 18:08:01 +0000 UTCSilver heaved a sigh from her plush armchair, rubbing the bridge of her nose while staring at the ceiling. I just sat across from her, Aren beside me, waiting for her to regain her composure.
“Don’t you have any alternatives?” she said.
I shrugged. “I don’t have a lot of time. For me to get that much money together before Hob dies, I would have to either become the luckiest bastard in the world and win enough money to be banned from all the gambling dens of three different districts, find a way to work off three years of debt and the cost of high-quality, specialized components in a single week or do this job.”
“I can’t take the funds out of the Orphanage account, that amount of money is too big of an expense even if I were an Otherlord, but I do have some savings…”
“No!” I cut her off before she could say more. With my situation being what it was, if she were to press me, I was likely to give in to temptation. “No. I appreciate the thought, but the kids here need your money far more than I do. I won’t have anyone else suffer for my mistakes, certainly not you.”
She blew out her cheeks and smacked her knees, getting up with a jump, her eyes steely with determination, staring into mine. “Right! Then we’ll need to get you some top-quality stuff. And before you ask, you can pay me after you get paid.”
I gaped at her. I had known Silver all my life, and this was the first time ever she let anyone pay after a job rather than before. It made my chest hurt as if a red-hot dagger had stabbed me through my heart. I was such a fool. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure,” she snapped at me. “Of course, I’m sure! I won’t have you die because you could only afford sub-par equipment, and I’m not about to let you lie down and have your story end, either. Now, follow me.”
She strode out of her office, and my mind might have been playing some tricks on me, but her steps had a bit more pep in them than before. Aren and I followed her as she called over a couple of the kids and headed toward a blank wall. Two boys, around 11, and a girl who looked no older than 8, ran after Silver, giggling and playing with each other. Silver reached the wall and put her hand on it. When the kids got to the wall, they slapped it once and rejoined the others.
“The kids are the keys. Every time I open the shop, a random number of them and their fingerprints act as the password.” She stood there, hands on her hips, as the wall in front of her split and changed into what was very clearly a massive hidden door, cracking open with a metallic hiss. The four segments of the wall-turned door retreated into the surrounding walls. “Every day, I shuffle the location of the door too, although a whole congregation of priests wouldn’t have been able to get through these doors, even if they knew where to look.”
“Woah, lady. You are cold.” Aren looked at her with equal parts shock and fear. “Using kids as keys for your security system is pretty heartless, even by my standards. And I’ve seen a lot. Hey Raziel, what kind of messed-up place is this?” He looked up at me with slightly narrowed eyes.
“My shop, which also happens to be the shop of one of the best weaponsmiths in the Outer Ring, kid,” Silver said, turning to us, her hands still on her hips, but her stance had changed into one of pride. And she had every right to be proud because behind her was the finest smith shop I’d ever seen. There were two floors, the bottom one full of rows upon rows of clothes and various equipment, and the second floor, which was nothing but weapons. From where we stood, I could make out a room with numerous machines that doubtlessly helped her with her “side gig,” as she had called it years ago, right behind the main counter. She walked in, and the moment she stepped onto the metallic floor of her shop, it was like she had transformed. Her walk, her posture, everything changed from gentle caretaker to the Sister Silver of old that I knew so well. Her smile turned almost predatory. Suddenly, she was like a lioness gazing upon her hunting grounds.
“As for the kids, I am doing this for their safety.” She said over her shoulder, “Since a random selection of them are the keys of the day, that means that if someone were to try to come here and start something, they’d have to make sure never to hurt any of my kids.”
She walked into her store and started taking armor pieces off shelves and hangers, sorting them into four piles. “Anyone who knows how to find me knows that hurting my charges gets them blacklisted and their rivals get discounts, but better safe than sorry, I say. A self-balancing system where everyone keeps everyone in check is great, but you can never be too careful.”
She looked back at us, still standing outside her shop like two awestruck statues, and waved impatiently for us to come in. “Come on then. We are on a tight schedule. You, kid, come here. I need to measure you.”
That snapped Aren out of it. “I didn’t ask for any equipment; besides, I can’t afford whatever you sell here. I know what armor in my budget looks like, and your goods are far, far above it.”
Silver stood up straight, planting her fists on her hips, and looked at Aren with a look that could only have been perfected through years of looking after unruly children. Rings, it might have sent a chill down my spine, too, although I’d never admit that to Silver. She’d never let me live it down. “Well, Aren, you are on this mission with Raziel, so his survival also partially depends on your performance. I won’t have you be a liability, and I won’t have your potential death on my conscience when I could have helped. Besides, Raziel is footing your bill, too.”
And that was enough to snap me out of my reverie. “I am?” Silver gave me a flat look as if I had asked an idiotic question. “...I am.”
“Good. Now that that’s sorted out, come in, both of you. Raziel, go look at what tools you might need. I already have your measurements, although…” She looked me up and down with a smirk, “I might have to add some slack to your armor around the belly.”
The amused look on Aren’s face as Silver cackled magnified my embarrassment to the point where I would not be surprised if my face spontaneously combusted. “The regular size will be fine, thank you very much!” I rushed in and moved to the opposite side of the shop, where I could examine the equipment and gadgets that Silver had on offer. And examine my belly without being seen by my two tormentors. Surely, I hadn’t put on that much weight. Despite it all, I still worked out regularly.
I dismissed those thoughts after a minute with a shake of my head. I had to keep my mind on task. Hob needed me. I grabbed some of the no-brainers to begin with. Two lengths of rope, around ten meters each, some grappling hooks, electro-smoke bombs, a couple of lockpicking kits, some small mirrors, a healthy supply of EMP darts, glass and wire cutters, caltrops, adhesive putty, and a small bag of chalk dust. The usual.
I would have brought my own supplies, but I sold them long ago to get some extra money for booze. Stupid move, in hindsight.
I looked at some of the more specialized pieces of equipment and dismissed most high-tech gadgets. Half of them required practice and knowledge to use correctly, and even if they didn’t, the Priests could detect the use of sufficiently advanced technology within a radius around them. That’s part of what made them so dangerous. Trying to out-gun a Priest was a fool’s errand. So, we had to outsmart them. Satisfied that I had everything I needed, I walked back to Silver and Aren.
“You can’t wear that,” Silver said, groaning in exasperation.
“But it's cool.” Aren was wearing a very nice black coat.
“Yes, but…”
“And it's bulletproof. Lined with nanomesh.” Aren was testing out the size of all the pockets of the coat. “And so many pockets!”
“Yes, Aren. It's a very cool coat. I made it myself, so thanks for the compliment. But…”
“What?”
I examined the piece of clothing.
[Black Leather Trenchcoat of the Hunt]
Rank: Rare
A sturdy trench coat created by Sister Silver. A nanomesh lining protects the wearer from small-caliber bullets and some melee attacks. It has self-cleaning and self-repairing functions. The [Surefire Hunt] subroutine assists in aiming at targets by subtly adjusting your hands.
“Make that shot and look good while doing it.”
“It’s about five sizes too big for you.” I stepped in. “A third of it is dragging on the floor.”
“Well, can’t we shorten it?” He protested loudly.
“If we did, it would look stupid because the proportions would be all off,” I explained patiently. “Also, this coat has a [Surefire Hunt] subroutine, meaning it's for people who shoot guns.”
“Your face looks stupid,” Aren mumbled. He tossed the coat off himself. “I didn’t want it anyway, stupid coat.”
“I will make a conscious effort to forget the fact that you called my creation stupid,” Silver said, a warning clear in her voice. Aren froze. He looked like a dog-bot that stepped on the monorail’s magnetic line and was now watching as the monorail approached at high speeds. “You better fold the trench coat back up and put it where you found it, mister, or the only armor you will get from me will have giant pink and yellow polka dots.” So many years of wrangling kids around Aren’s age had her in the unique position of knowing how to handle the little monster.
Aren looked hesitant. “But… Okay.” He sighed, folded the trench coat with surprising dexterity, the movement looking practiced, and placed it back on a shelf. “I’m sorry, it wasn’t stupid. I actually really like it,” he mumbled.
Silver gave him a warm smile. I never thought I’d see her smile like that in my presence ever again. It hurt, but it was a good pain. “Well, if you protect Raziel and don’t get yourself too injured during the mission, I’ll make one piece of armor just for you. How does that sound?”
Despite her soothing words, Aren just looked even more dejected. He looked down and mumbled, “Fine…” I had had enough of the moping, so I picked up the first piece of clothing that stood out to me.
“How about this?” I told him, holding up a really nice, dark burgundy leather jacket, his size. “Combine it with the black pants there, and you’ll cut a striking feature!” I pointed with my chin at a pair of trousers practically covered in pockets.
“Hm...” Aren looked over the two with a critical eye. “I dunno.”
“Raziel’s suggestion is surprisingly good, if a little predictable!” Silver said enthusiastically.
“Hey!” I complained.
She gave me a long-suffering look. “Am I wrong?”
I tried my best to come up with a retort, but I had nothing. “Anyway! These are also nanomesh-lined, right?” I asked her.
“Correct. And made to grow in size as you grow, too! You’ll get taller at your age quickly, so you need clothes that will match your growth spurts.”
I examined both pieces of clothing with my Novas.
[Burgundy Jacket of Novice Protection]
Rank: Uncommon
A child-sized, stylish jacket created by Sister Silver. A nanomesh lining protects the wearer from small-caliber bullets and some melee attacks. It has self-cleaning and self-repairing functions and has been designed to adjust to fit its wearer perfectly. It can expand or shrink up to 1.5 times its size to accommodate all shapes and sizes.
“Now that's a cool jacket.” - Probably someone who sees you wearing it.
[Black Pants of Novice Protection]
Rank: Uncommon
A pair of child-sized, comfortable trousers created by Sister Silver. It is lined with nanomesh and will stop small bullets and melee attacks below a certain impact threshold, absorbing and redistributing the impact. It has Self-Cleaning and Self-Repairing functions and has been created to adjust to fit its wearer perfectly. It can expand or shrink up to 1.5 times its size to accommodate all shapes and sizes.
“So many pockets! So much room for stuff!”
I snorted at the descriptions of the items. Silver sure knew how to present a product. I pushed the windows to Aren’s Nova, and he read them with a frown. “The coat can’t resize itself like that?”
“Resizing functions take up over 12 units of subroutine capacity. Civilian clothes have 20 units. Since we’re facing priests who will detect anything with more capacity than 24 units of SC, we are stuck with limited clothing choices and subroutines.” I explained patiently.
Silver looked at me in surprise.
“What? I paid attention when you talked.” I shrugged.
She cleared her throat. “Right, well, Raziel is right. Focus, Aren. What do you think of these clothes?” She pointed at what I was holding.
“I can try them, I guess.” He said, with hesitation in his tone.
“Get on with it.” I groused. “We haven’t got all day.” I thrust the two pieces of clothes towards him, and he took them, running to a changing room.
“Cute kid.” Silver said in a neutral tone. “Sand off the rough edges, and he seems like he’ll grow into a fine adult. Fat chance if he sticks around Kornok’s crew, but I can always hope.”
“Oh, you have no idea. Took him to the Fourth Ring for an evaluation, and he scored in the top 10% of the physical evaluation for his group and in the top 5% for close-quarters combat.” I said, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “He’s going to be a monster.”
“Oh, Rings,” Silver said, her eyes growing wider. “That’s even better than you at his age.”
“I know,” I smirked.
“What about his marksmanship evaluation? I’d never let my kids handle a gun at such a young age, but I expected him to at least know his way around a firearm if he is Kornok’s. Was it that bad?”
“His marksmanship evaluation was non-existent. He isn’t allowed to handle any guns, apparently.” I shrugged.
“What, why?” Silver sounded as taken aback as when I was when Aren first told me of it.
“Who knows? Maybe Kornok is paranoid. Maybe the kid has some trauma related to handling a gun, maybe something else. He didn’t really go into any details about it. And, to be honest, I don’t really want to ask him about it. He got very defensive when we talked about it last, and I’m in no mood for another argument with him.” Rings, just thinking about getting into another argument with that little shit made me want a drink.
“Hm, fine. Let's get you equipped, too. You got the basic tools, but what about protective gear?” She took out a piece of paper and started writing on it.
“Well…” I took a deep breath. “I hope my old stuff still fits me,” I said, the words feeling bitter on my lips.
Silver’s head snapped up. “Your old stuff? You don’t mean..?”
I nodded. “I do.”
“So you’re back then. For good.” Silver said, staring into my eyes as if testing my resolve.
“I am. I’ve buried myself in misery and alcohol for far too long. People have suffered because of it. I could have helped. I could have done better, I could have...” I clenched my fists so hard that my knuckles turned white.
“Raz, you needed time. It’s… It’s okay.” Silver said, taking a hesitant step toward me. Her hand moved up as if she was going to reach out to me, but she stopped halfway through. She let her hand drop back down and stepped back. I expected no less.
“Maybe. Who knows.” I shrugged my shoulders again as if trying to remove the ghost of her hand on my shoulder.
Aren opened the curtain of this changing room and stepped out, looking mighty pleased with himself. “I’ll hand it to you. You know how to pick clothes that look good on me.” He told me, turning to Silver. “And you know how to make clothes that make me look good.” He sounded ridiculous, like he was imitating an action hero.
“Give us a spin, then,” I said, forcing a smirk on my face at his antics.
Aren spun and then struck a pose, his hands on his hips, his chest puffed out. I had to admit, those clothes looked good on the kid, and when he grew even more, he would cut quite the dashing figure. His stained black shirt ruined the effect a little, but nobody is perfect.
“Alright,” Aren said. “Now what?”
“Now comes the fun part.” Silver said with a grin, turning to me.
I couldn’t help it. Despite it all, I grinned right back, and for a moment, everything was as it had been. As it should have always been.
“Now… Now we look at weapons.”
