“What the hell happened here?”

  Hartwell tried to contain his revulsion at the sight of Arthur’s impaled corpse. Most others were not so distressed.

  “Do we really have to stand around here jawing for half an hour again?” Old Bastard grunted. He slapped the cable holding up Arthur’s corpses, making the body vibrate slightly. “He’s new blood. He died. Half of them do it before the year’s up anyway.”

  “There’s still the matter of understanding how and why-”

  “I think this is my fault,” Rush said. Hartwell saw Rush standing in front of the door in full armor, and immediately placed himself between the boy and the body. Liam just rolled his eyes.

  “Hartwell, this isn’t even the first dead body he’s seen today,” Liam grunted. “And what the hell do you mean this is your fault, Rushmore?”

  Rush ignored the attempts to protect him, and walked right around Hartwell to examine the body, and the cable launcher it had been impaled by. He held up a similar mechanism that was now attached to his own arm.

  “He saw me carrying this back to the trucks,” Rush said. “He likely assumed it was valuable and went looking for another, without understanding how to handle it safely.”

  “That’s- it’s not your fault, Rush,” Hartwell said.

  “Hmm. Even I can’t blame this one on you,” Old Bastard said. He was great at assigning blame. “Stupid is as stupid does. New blood has a way of getting itself killed.”

  “It’s regrettable, but...these things happen,” Hartwell said. The Old Bastard was right: a lot of newcomers to Scrapworld got themselves killed. “Clear the room. Liam, get everyone else out of the way. I’m going to get this body down, at least.”

  “I’ll help,” Rush said. “That cable is embedded pretty deep in the wall. You’ll need the suit to remove it.”

  “That’s...fine,” Hartwell said. “Thank you, Rush.”

  The spectators cleared the room, and Liam made sure the hallway stayed clear as well. Rush walked over to the wall and pulled the embedded cable out with ease, and Hartwell took on the gruesome work of pulling the corpse free from the heavy cord.

  “I meant what I said, Rush,” Hartwell grunted as he pulled. “This isn’t your fault.”

  “I know. Shinji Aso killed him.”

  The corpse made a dull thud as Hartwell dropped it.

  “What?”

  “He was heading into this area as I left, and he didn’t leave the facility until just before the body was found,” Rush said. “I was keeping an eye on the door.”

  With little else to do while Elvis installed the cable launcher, Rush had chosen to observe, as always. That habit had paid off almost immediately.

  “But...why? We assumed Shinji was here for you, why target a random Junker?”

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “Maybe we can find out. Elvis just scanned the body,” Rush said. “There’s something hidden inside his jumpsuit, just below the right pectoral.”

  Thankfully the cable had pierced Arthur’s left lung, so Hartwell didn’t have to get his hands too dirty as he pried around in the interior of the jumpsuit. After a little finagling with the seal of the hidden pocket, Hartwell pulled forth the communication device. Rush tilted his head at the odd piece of tech.

  “Hmm. I’ve never seen that before.”

  “That’s because it’s not Scrapworld tech,” Hartwell said. “This is a Republic communicator.”

  Rush silently absorbed the info and mentally cataloged the tech for future reference.

  “What is a Junker doing with Republic tech?” Hartwell said. “And why would Shinji want to kill him?”

  “I don’t know,” Rush said.

  “I don’t expect you to know, Rush,” Hartwell said. “It’s a rhetorical question, I don’t expect an answer.”

  “Okay.”

  Hartwell wiped bloody hands clean on the legs of Arthur’s prison jumpsuit and sat down on a nearby storage crate. He took a deep breath of the air and nearly choked on the stench of blood before sighing.

  “Ever since you came to us, things have been getting more complicated,” Hartwell said.

  “I could leave,” Rush said. “If you want.”

  “I don’t know,” Hartwell sighed. “Maybe we’d both be better off…”

  “If you’d like me to leave, can I talk to Giza first?” Rush said. “I’d like to be rude to her.”

  Hartwell had been expecting the first half of that. He had certainly not been expecting the second half.

  “Why the hell would you do that? I thought you were friends with her.”

  “I am,” Rush said. “But if I’m mean to her while I leave, she won’t miss me when I’m gone.”

  Hartwell nearly choked with how fast his heart sank. Whatever else Rushmore was, he was also Giza’s friend. He would not take that from her. Not after everything else she’d lost.

  “No. No, you stay,” Hartwell said. He had been hoping to see a little relief, but Rush’s stoic expression never changed. “But whatever happens, you protect Giza. Do you understand me?”

  “I do.”

  “Good,” Hartwell said. “We should still consider getting rid of the suit, at least, it seems to be drawing attention…”

  “I’m not going to do that,” Rush said.

  “I know it’s useful, Rush,” Hartwell said. “But that kind of power-”

  “I don’t care about the power,” Rush said. “Or how useful it is. Elvis is part of the suit. I’m not getting rid of him.”

  “Right. Elvis. The goo machine that lives in your blood.”

  “He helps me,” Rush said. “I’m not going to throw him away.”

  “Fine. Fine. Keep the suit,” Hartwell said. He’d suddenly lost most of his patience for this conversation. “I need to get this cleaned up anyway.”

  Hartwell went to go fetch something to haul the body with, leaving Rush to his own devices. He chose to move deeper into the facility, looking for anything interesting.

  “You know, Elvis, I’m starting to think people don’t believe me about you,” Rush said.

  “I can’t imagine why, Mr. Rush,” Elvis said, as his nanites continued to bob through Rushmore’s bloodstream. His ride in Rush’s biology continued until Rush hit the end of the hallway, and found himself facing a massive door. He tried to pull it open, and found it resisted even the Scrapper suit’s prodigious strength.

  When faced with an insurmountable obstacle, Rush chose to sit down and analyze it. Elvis was not in the mood to sit and wait for hours again.

  “If I may, Mr. Rush, could I try the console? I imagine this door might be less secured than the previous.”

  Rush put a hand near the access panel and was not immediately electrocuted, so it was definitely less secure. It still took some time for Elvis to break through, though, so Rush was still standing around when he heard the echo of Hartwell shouting at something and then Giza’s footsteps skittering down the hall.

  “Hey Rush,” Giza said, as she skidded to a halt.

  “Why is Hartwell mad?”

  “I accidentally saw the dead body,” Giza said. It had actually been accidental, despite Hartwell’s suspicions. “I came to see what you’re up to!”

  “Elvis is opening this door for me,” Rush said. Giza stood and watched, for a time.

  “This better not take as long as the last one,” Giza said.

  “It won’t.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  Rush grabbed the door and pulled it open.

  “Oh,” Giza said. “Better be something good in there, this trip has been a mixed bag.”

  Giza stepped inside, turned on a flashlight, and illuminated the sleek metallic frame of a hoverbike. Rush stepped up and stared at it too.

  “Is that good?”

  “That’s good, yeah.”