Magus ex Machina [Cyberpunk-Fantasy LitRPG] (Book 1 complete!)

"What the fuck were you thinking!?"

Tapper quirked his head. "Which part of the successful rescue operation are you referring to, Mister Salazar?"

The merc swiped in the air at Tapper's direction without looking at him. "Shut up, not you! You I know to expect insanity from. I'm talking about this dumbass little kid." He prodded the driver in the chest for emphasis, and easily leaned away from the return swing.

There wasn't much power behind it. Phanya held the driver by the scruff, just barely high enough to force him to balance on his good foot. It sapped his leverage to properly attack or wiggle out of his jacket, but that left plenty of energy for his ire. "Eat a dick!"

"Oh! My apologies sir, but I just realized that I never asked for your name."

"I told you to piss off, tincan!"

"I will call you Daredevil, then."

Salazar crossed his arms and said, "He probably doesn't even have a name yet. Do you?" That quieted the driver, and he glared at the ground while his cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of red. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Because only a little greasenut would try to jump the tracks on a machine that shoddy! Who is your head mechanic?"

"I ain't telling you shit!" Daredevil spat back.

Phanya awkwardly scratched the back of her head. "Okay, so. I'm just gonna put the kid over here…" She slowly but surely dragged Daredevil further into the jitney and sat him down on one of the bench seats. Salazar followed as she did, berating him all the way. "And I'll let you handle that. Good talk, Sal." Phanya sidestepped them and joined the others just outside the car, where Ricky was working on repairing Tapper's knife wound. "Heck of a jump you pulled back there, Taps."

Tapper nodded enthusiastically. Now that the terror of almost being obliterated by physics twice had passed, he felt an odd tittering of satisfaction from the little Adventure. "Yes, it was quite exhilarating! But I only jumped because I calculated with high confidence that you would pull me out in time. And we saved the life of Mister Salazar's friend! At least, I assume the young Daredevil is his friend."

The trio unconsciously turned their attention to the jitney, where Salazar's rant still fired on all cylinders. "— on a trike! If you only have three wheels, then the third goes in the BACK! You have no stability otherwise!"

Tapper's voice grew a bit hesitant after a moment. "...Is that friendship masquerading as antagonism? For all my social programming, I am still having trouble with the concept."

Phanya hummed and said, "No, I think Sal really is just that pissed."

"Huh. Fascinating."

Ricky finished up his weld job and scoffed. "No, that's just people being jerks. What's fascinating are these quest rewards! Did you two get anything interesting?" He pulled out his notebook and flipped open to the most recent entry before passing it to Tapper.

"Ah, I see that your Chain spell grew!" Tapper exclaimed, as he wrote his own perk down in neat, blocky letters. "I earned the same thing for my Suck spell after my fight with Drillbert the Drillbot."

"Yeah, go figure I would 'rely' on my Chain spell when I only have two dang components. Now if only I can see what the freaking dice step even is..."

The notebook passed to Phanya last, and she quickly scrawled her own entry while the others talked. "Well I got something unrelated to any feat or spell, check it out."

[Perk: Fastball Special
Your Flex die now applies to thrown objects and weapons, up to size category light]

"Most interesting, Phanya! You are already so skilled with throwing things, I did not realize that you were doing so without any assistance from your class."

"Well, sorta. I've been compensating with the Commander half of my class. Like, throwing the mine and the radio? Those were technically just battle tactic maneuvers. So I guess I'll be throwing at full power now, or something."

"But it's still similar to our rewards," Ricky mused, studying the open notebook page in deep thought. So deep that he didn't notice when he started chewing on a thumbnail, or when Phanya slapped his hand away. "Because they all represent feats or skills we've been using a whole bunch these past few days. So it might be codifying the results of practice, but then why tie it to a random quest? Tapper, why was that even a quest in the first place?"

"I have no idea, Ricky!" Tapper cheerfully answered. "The mystery is quite enticing, but I hope we solve it soon. I enjoy completing quests."

Salazar poked his head out of the jitney and called for everyone's attention, startling Ricky. "Hey! What're you three waiting around out here for? Let's go!"

"Mister Salazar, were you able to establish communication with your friend?" Tapper asked as everyone got settled.

Daredevil still sat on the long bench, his injured leg propped up and arms crossed in a huff. "I ain't saying shit, 'cept that Ratfinks rule."

Salazar just scoffed, more bemused than annoyed. "Yeah, the kid's real tough shit alright. Luckily, if this kid is out here by himself then there has to be a garage nearby. Just gotta make a quick pit stop and we can drop him off."

Daredevil groaned.

Salazar drove alongside the train path at a steady clip for approximately 15 minutes, and turned away from it when his AI indicated. The garbage dunes quickly piled up again, forcing the jitney to slow down through the winding paths, and Salazar suddenly shushed everyone. "Shh! You hear that?" No one else had been talking, but they all strained to listen. Tapper faintly heard something rumbling in the background, and a rare grin broke across Salazar's snout. "Sounds like we're heading in the right direction, after all."

Right on cue, a vehicle launched over a nearby garbage dune and drove along its slope, easily catching up to the jitney while keeping the high ground advantage. It was little more than an oversized biodiesel engine and oversized tires that belched black smoke and kicked up loose garbage, lacking any sort of protection for its occupants. No roof, doors, or windshield; the only reason Tapper could assume it had seats at all is because a half-dozen people either sat in or clung to the vehicle. The occupants bristled with weaponry, even if they were just pointing fingers at the moment, and a second similar vehicle soon joined them on the other side of the jitney.

Tapper watched the two vehicles loom overhead, and felt the increasing tension in the air. "Ah, Mister Salazar, are you positive that you are not driving into a trap?"

Salazar barked with sudden laughter. "No it's fine, we're just uninvited guests. Check this out." He tapped the jitney's horn in a rapid pattern, and after a moment both vehicles returned a different pattern back in perfect unison. Then the newcomers ramped off ahead, the tension eased, and after two more turns the path widened to show their destination.

A small hangar and short runway dominated the clearing and all eyes were immediately drawn to the sculpture on top of the hangar, second in height only to the hangar's attached watchtower. Scrap metal welded together and painted to create a large rodent hybrid riding on top of a, comparatively, minuscule hot rod with impossible body proportions. Gigantic eyes bulged forward and out, a tongue as long as its body trailed behind the rodent to give a sense of speed, and sharp teeth twisted into an insane grin.

It also spat gouts of fire into the air at regular intervals.

Several ramshackle vehicles drove around the jitney in a wide circle as it approached, nearly all of which lacked a roof and sported oversized engines like the scouts, but Tapper couldn't take his eyes off the statue. "I do not believe I will ever understand human art," he mused.

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"Definitely nothing like it," Salazar agreed, and he honked the same signal from before. Every vehicle returned the countersign and most returned to their previous activities; either drag racing on the runway or ducking back into the hangar for mechanical work. Tapper noticed a sniper on the watchtower following in their general direction, but otherwise any remaining eyes watched them out of idle curiosity and not fear.

They parked near the open mouth of the hangar, and Salazar turned around to address the others. "Alright, this shouldn't take more than a minute. Stay here or come with if you want, just don't touch anything. Come on greasenut, let's get you up."

Instead, their temporary passenger tried to shrink into the bench seat. "Umm, could you drop me off with the PSIkers instead? Please?" Daredevil asked, his voice suddenly very small without the bluster to back up his attitude.

"Nope! Too late for that," Salazar said, but when the other didn't move any mirth fell off his voice. "Ricky, can you carry the kid, or something? The quicker we do this, the quicker we can leave." The party exchanged shrugs and Ricky slipped into his suit, picking up Daredevil with outstretched arms as if he were holding a feral cat. The red man struggled, but his efforts were halfhearted and died out as soon as everyone had stepped out of the jitney.

Salazar cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted, "Lost greasenut in need of repairs here!" A few onlookers recognized Daredevil and snickered. "Who's the head mechanic in this dump?"

A voice boomed back from within the hangar, "Who the fuck just called my garage a dump!?"

Phanya shifted her stance slightly, just in case, but Salazar looked perfectly relaxed. Almost jovial, though Tapper couldn't understand why. "A better garage wouldn't let their trainees jump the tracks before they're… hold on." Figures started to emerge from the hangar's shade and Salazar squinted before recognition washed over his face. "...Skidmark?"

Light gleamed off chrome and crooked teeth alike as the lead figure flashed a snarl. Or maybe a smile? He was an amalgam mutant, barely a meter tall if you didn't include the very impressive mohawk hairdo, with the left side of his face and body covered in alternating patches of cybernetics and thick scar tissue. His left hand looked more like a bundle of mechanic's tools modified into the general shape of fingers, and the cybernetics for his left eye and ear were oversized and had more in common with the giant statue over his own face. No technology covered his mouth, but an old injury permanently exposed the teeth on the left side of his face.

"Green Ghost? Holy shit! What made you crawl out of your virtual fuck machine?"

"Still looking to peel your lips off the tarmac and kiss my ass with them, of course!" Salazar and the head mechanic broke away from their respective groups, meeting in the middle to trade more insults.

Tapper leaned to the side and lowered his voice slightly. "Excuse me, Phanya —"

"Yes, Tapper, these two are actual friends pretending to insult each other."

"Fascinating."

The two concluded passing barbs and finished by clapping hands and grabbing each other by the forearm, before the other mechanics dispersed and Salazar waved the party over. "Guys, this is Skidmark. We grew up in the same garage together! Skids, these are… well, not important."

"Rude."

Salazar pretended not to hear Phanya and continued, "But we found this greasenut trying to jump the tracks and had to fish him out after he wiped. Please tell me that you didn't okay one of yours doing that in a trike?"

Skidmark grumbled slightly, and now Tapper felt confident his face was snarling. "Is this true?"

Daredevil slumped as much as he could in Ricky's grasp, meaning that he now just dangled like a bag of trash. "I just wanted to make the jump extra cool."

Any ire that Tapper could detect in Skidmark's twisted features drained out, replaced by a deep weariness. "I know, trikes are very cool. But what do I tell you every time, trainee? Trikes are for cruising —"

"— not tricking, I know," Daredevil completed, droning off the mantra with an underlying tone that said he had repeated this dozens of times already. A spark of inspiration flashed across his red face and he added, "But at least I used the rollcage like you said!"

"Well at least something is getting through that oil slick on your head," Skidmark sighed, before he shifted to look Ricky in the eye. "You can actually set him down now, not like he'll run."

"He can't even walk," Salazar corrected. "Kid hurt his leg in the fall."

This brought an odd glint to Skidmark's human eye. "Oh-ho, did he now?" He touched a button on his cybernetic scalp and continued, "Nurse Ratchet, you're needed outside."

Desperate struggling breathed new life into Daredevil, and when that failed he turned to pleading. "No please Boss Skidmark, it's not that bad! I don't need the Ratchet!"

Skidmark pointedly ignored him as he turned around to the hangar, and everyone followed his gaze when something metal clattered to the ground. An autonomous forklift rumbled into view, a squat machine on four small wheels with long arms made for grasping entire pallets of materials, and a small bed below a glassy dome for its head. It tried to maneuver through the crowded hangar with little success, and despite the other mechanics scrambling to get out of its way the robot knocked over a shelving unit as it passed. Those around it grumbled, but picked up the tools without much complaint.

Nurse Ratchet stopped in front of Skidmark and said with a simple, gruff voice, "Please input work order."

"Ratchet, scan that unit for faults in its lower support structure and repair accordingly," Skidmark said, pointing at Daredevil. The robot beeped in confirmation and clamped a giant hand around the young man's torso, lifting him effortlessly into the air and close to the dome for a scan.

"Hairline fracture in tibia detected," Ratchet said, its voice switching to a soft feminine for just the single word of anatomy. "Welding with medgel and reinforcement required. Insulation suggested." Skidmark cleared everything except the insulation, and Ratchet unceremoniously plopped Daredevil down onto its bed. Several tools extended from an interior panel as it rotated and started to roll back into the hangar.

"Fuckin' hell boss, at least let it numb me!" Daredevil whined as they slowly departed.

"Hell no, and you know why," Skidmark snapped back. "Remember this the next time you try to jump the tracks alone, greasenut!"

Ricky and Phanya exchanged nervous glances, but Tapper spoke up first. "Excuse me Mister Skidmark, but is it safe to weld the young man?"

"Oh yeah it's fine, old Ratchet was jailbroken to —" Skidmark started, before he did a double take at Tapper. "Uh, your bot isn't going to freak or anything about breaking the TOS, right?"

"He's also jailbroken," Salazar quickly interjected, and Skidmark nodded in approval.

"Figured you'd break your bot wide open, Ghost. We just did a little kitbash job and slid some nurse programming and tools in a construction bot. It thinks it's welding a support beam but it's actually injecting medgel and fitting a splint, so the kid'll be fine." Daredevil's howls of discomfort disagreed, but the other mechanics paid him no mind.

Now it was Salazar's turn to nod in approval. "A bot that just works on people. Clever workaround."

Phanya cleared her throat. She did honestly enjoy seeing that Salazar was even capable of having friends, but now she was starting to feel awkward. "Sorry to interrupt, but since 'Greenie' here never introduced us," Phanya leaned down slightly and stuck out her hand before continuing, "Hi there Skidmark, I'm Phanya. That's Ricky, and our robot is named Tapper."

Skidmark's twisted grin widened, slightly too wide on a head that was already slightly too large by standard human ratios, and he clasped her forearm with enthusiasm. "Sorry about that! Hadn't seen this scaly fuck in years. Welcome to Ratfink Garage #53! Any friend of Ghost is, of course, a friend of ours."

"We're not friends," Phanya and Salazar both said in unison.

"Oh joy, new friends!" Tapper exclaimed, drowning the other two out. "But why are you called the Ratfinks, when it appears that only around 5% of your membership here are rodent hybrids?"

Skidmark squinted in confusion before comprehension dawned. "Ha! No, not actual rats. The Ratfink is an ancient symbol from the very first days of combustion engines, back when the tech was still pure. No computers, no programming, just the thrum of a hot rod's engine and the smell of sweet gasoline." He thumped his chest, and anyone still within earshot took notice.

"RATFINKS RULE!"

Skidmark beamed at the unified display, but then his smile faltered. "That said, some head mechanics are a bit too into the purity aspect. After I earned my namesake," he indicated to the general left half of his body as he spoke, "some of the old gaskets weren't too happy that I got tech replacements, so I broke off and started my own garage. We're a bit more progressive, by necessity, but we also lose fewer trainees than most garages."

"Same reason I eventually left," Salazar added. "I'm just better with programs than I am with physical machines."

"You mean you botched every repair job you ever tried. I have never seen a Ratfink as shit with a wrench as this guy!"

"Still good enough to beat you every time we raced." The two glared at each other for a beat before they both snorted with laughter. The back and forth reminiscing continued until a mechanic walked up behind Skidmark and passed him a tablet without saying a word. His eye darted back and forth as he read the message, concern creasing his brow before he looked up at the party.

"Ghost, what in the hell have you been getting up to?"