Chaos is a ladder. Ren just needed to grease the rungs.
He merged into the crowd, pulling his hood low. The Slums were fully awake now, a churning river of misery and commerce. Men pushed carts piled with scrap metal, women argued over the price of stale water. The noise was deafening, a perfect cover.
Ren moved with the flow, making himself small. He was not a warrior. He was just another piece of trash drifting in the wind.
Thirty meters ahead, the Black Serpent leader, the man with the shock baton, was busy. He was standing in front of a noodle stall, screaming at the vendor. He held the vendor by the collar with one hand, his other hand resting on his hip, dangerously close to the shock baton.
Ren stopped behind a stack of crates. He reached into his pocket and touched the cold metal of the Roach.
[Construct: Roach-1] [Battery: 1.8%] [Status: Standby]
"One shot," Ren whispered. "Don't miss."
He set the spider-bot on the ground. It blended perfectly with the mud and oil-stained cobblestones.
Ren closed his left eye. The grainy, black-and-white feed from the cracked marble lens flickered into his mind.
Go.
He piloted the drone. It didn't move smoothly; it jerked and spasmed, its magnetic feet clanking softly against debris. Ren steered it through the forest of legs, dodging boots and dropped food.
On the screen, the gang leader loomed like a tower.
Ren didn't send the Roach for the leader. That was suicide. If the leader stomped, the drone was scrap.
Ren steered the Roach toward the noodle stall itself. specifically, toward the rusted propane tank fueling the burner.
The tank was old, covered in patches. A rubber hose connected it to the stove.
Target acquired.
Ren pushed the Roach forward. It skittered up the side of the wooden cart, unseen in the mayhem. It reached the rubber hose.
"Extend cutter," Ren thought.
He didn't have a cutter. He had a jagged piece of copper wire. But the Roach had the [Sharpness] property he had stolen from the glass shard earlier?
Wait. No. He had put the sharpness on the stick. The glass knife was in his belt.
Ren cursed. Improvise.
The Roach had a magnet. And the stove was made of cheap iron.
Ren drove the Roach directly under the boiling pot of soup.
[Command: Overload Magnet.]
It drained the last of the battery. The Roach didn't explode, but its magnetic field spiked for a microsecond.
Clang.
The heavy iron pot was yanked downward, violently. It didn't tip over; it slammed against the burner, destabilizing the entire rickety cart. One leg of the cart snapped.
Gravity took over.
The cart tipped. Ten gallons of boiling, greasy noodle soup cascaded onto the street—right onto the gang leader's boots.
"ARGH!"
The leader howled, jumping back, slipping in the slick noodles. He flailed, arms windmilling, and crashed into a pile of empty crates.
The crowd gasped. Silence fell for a heartbeat.
That was the signal.
Ren moved.
He didn't run. Running attracted attention. He "panicked." He rushed forward like a concerned citizen, eyes wide with fake terror.
"Boss! Boss, are you okay?" Ren shouted, pushing through the stunned onlookers.
He reached the sprawling leader. The man was cursing, trying to wipe boiling broth off his leather pants. His eyes were squeezed shut in pain.
Ren grabbed the leader's arm, pretending to help him up.
"Get off me, maggot!" the leader roared, shoving Ren away.
Ren stumbled back, looking terrified. "Sorry! I was just helping!"
He turned and scrambled into the crowd, disappearing instantly.
The leader growled, reaching for his belt to grab his baton and beat the kid.
His hand grasped empty air.
He looked down.
The belt loop was empty.
"My baton..." The leader's face went pale, then purple. He looked at the retreating back of the boy in the wolf-fur coat.
"KILL HIM!" he screamed. "KILL THAT RAT!"
Ren didn't look back. He was already sprinting.
His lungs burned, and his weak legs felt like lead, but the adrenaline pushed him forward. He ducked into a narrow alley, vaulted over a sleeping beggar, and took a sharp left.
He clutched the prize against his chest.
[Item: Shock Baton (Civilian Grade)] [Charge: 85%] [Output: 50,000 Volts]
It was heavy. It hummed with potential death.
He could hear boots pounding on the pavement behind him. They were coming. He couldn't outrun them forever.
He needed to hide.
Ren spotted a storm drain, a heavy iron grate set into the ground. It was rusted shut.
He skidded to a stop. He grabbed the bars. He pulled.
It didn't budge.
[Strength Check: Failed.]
"Damn it."
The footsteps were getting louder. "He went left! I saw the coat!"
Ren looked at the baton in his hand. He looked at the [Logic Drive] in his pocket.
He didn't have time to be gentle.
He pulled out the black cube. He slammed the tip of the shock baton against the cube's input port.
"Drink," Ren hissed.
He pulled the trigger on the baton.
CRACK-ZZZRT!
Blue lightning arc an inch thick jumped from the baton into the cube.
Ren screamed. The feedback shocked his hand, numbing his arm up to the shoulder. The smell of burning hair filled the alley. The baton grew hot, its casing melting slightly.
[Energy Input Detected.] [Logic Drive Battery: 15%... 30%... 45%...]
The baton died. The humming stopped. It was now just a plastic stick.
But the Cube?
The Cube was awake.
The blue light on its surface wasn't pulsing anymore. It was a solid, blinding beam. The metal plates of the cube shifted, clicking and rearranging like a puzzle box solving itself.
[System Reboot Complete.] [Admin Privileges: Verified.] [Available Blueprint: Combat Assist (Micro-Servo Suit).]
The gang members rounded the corner. Three of them. They saw Ren standing over the drain, holding a dead baton and a glowing box.
"End of the line, thief," one of them sneered, pulling a knife.
Ren looked at them. He tossed the dead baton aside.
He held up the glowing cube.
"System," Ren said, his voice trembling with exhaustion but his eyes manic. "Activate [Magnetic Lock]."
He slapped the cube onto the iron storm grate.
[Action: Polarity Reversal.]
THOOM.
The grate didn't open. Instead, the magnetic force blasted outward from the metal bars.
The three thugs had metal buckles on their belts. Metal shanks in their pockets. Steel toes in their boots.
They were yanked off their feet.
They flew through the air, screaming, and slammed face-first into the ground, pinned by an invisible gravity well centered on the grate.
"Get... off..." one groaned, trying to lift his head, but his metal nose-ring was glued to the cobblestones.
Ren stood over them, panting.
He reached down and pried the cube off the grate. The magnetic field died instantly. The thugs slumped, dazed and groaning.
Ren didn't finish them off. He didn't have the energy.
He pulled the grate open, now unlocked, and slipped into the darkness of the sewers below.
He pulled the grate shut above him just as the shouts of more reinforcements filled the alley.
Darkness swallowed him. The smell was horrific, but to Ren, it smelled like safety.
He held up the cube. It glowed in the dark, a steady blue torch.
[Battery: 42%]
Ren slumped against the wet tunnel wall and slid down until he hit the sludge. He started to laugh, a ragged, choking sound.
He was rich.