Bad Beat - Chapter 29 - Aim (Patreon)

Gabriel silently passed the note to Mia, watching her face as she read it, though she gave him nothing in return except a frustrated huff before grabbing the top pizza box, flipping it open with unnecessary force, and immediately tearing into a slice like she had something to prove.

He kept his eyes on her for a second longer, as if expecting commentary, but when none came, he simply shrugged to himself, pulled the second box closer, and started eating as well.

By the time twenty minutes had passed, the energy had burned itself out, leaving the two of them sitting on the couch in a thick, awkward silence that neither seemed particularly eager to break.

Mia sat with her feet tucked under her, posture loose but restless, picking at the last piece of crust with small, distracted bites, while Gabriel leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, staring at the empty pizza box on the table as if it had personally betrayed him.

‘That bastard really managed to order my favorite…’ he grumbled.

Somewhere in the middle of consuming the pizza, he had pulled out Sparky’s device from his bedroom and set it up on the table so she could be part of the conversation, the small projection humming quietly as it displayed its looping visuals.

‘I either need to make her more mobile, or figure out a way for her to project herself wherever I go,’ he mused to himself, his eyes drifting to the screen where a crude ASCII pizza was slowly being consumed line by line as text scrolled past, only to reset and begin again in an oddly hypnotic loop.

Mia finished the last bite of crust and, without a hint of hesitation, brushed the crumbs off her hands directly onto his couch.

Gabriel shot her a sharp look.

She didn’t even acknowledge it.

“So,” she said, leaning back slightly, her tone casual, “what’s the plan, genius?”

Gabriel let out a slow breath as Sparky’s digital pizza vanished mid-cycle, the animation pausing as if even the AI had decided it was time to pay attention, while he kept his gaze fixed on the wall ahead of him, thoughts moving too fast.

An event where Bombshell would show up at the hotel.

There was the second event, the one Nate had provided, which supposedly would pull most of the gang members away from the building on the exact same day.

And taken together, they created an opportunity that was almost too perfect.

A clean window to slip into the forbidden part of the building and reach the mysterious ninth floor with minimal resistance.

It stank to high heaven to him.

And yet, backing out now felt worse.

He had already stepped into this mess, already drawn attention, already put himself on their radar, and hesitation at this point would not make him safer, it would just make him unprepared.

If anything, he needed to move faster, get stronger, make himself harder to pin down if things went wrong.

And if there were more precogs like Nate out there, people who could see just enough to ruin him, then he needed to be ready for that, too.

One conversation with Nate had been more than enough to drive that point home.

He let out a low grunt, expressing his irritation.

“The plan works,” he said finally, his voice steady even if his thoughts were not. “We use the gap, get inside, and find out what they’re hiding.”

Mia tilted her head slightly, watching him in a way that made it clear she was less interested in the words and more in what he was not saying.

“You don’t trust it,” she said, not asking.

“No,” he replied without hesitation.

“Good,” she said, nodding once. “Because if you suddenly started trusting convenient coincidences, I’d be more worried about you than the gang.”

He let out a quiet huff that might have been a laugh, then finally turned to look at her properly, catching the tension in her expression.

“I told you I’d help you figure out what happened to your sister,” he said, his tone more direct now. “That hasn’t changed.”

Her eyes narrowed immediately, the shift in her posture subtle but unmistakable.

“Then something else did,” she shot back. “Let me guess, it has a name and an annoying voice. Nate.”

Gabriel nodded once. “He’s a variable I don’t like,” he said. “Not because he’s wrong, but because I can’t tell how right he is, or what he’s leaving out.”

Mia exhaled through her nose, some of the edge leaving her shoulders.

“Yeah,” she admitted after a moment. “That’s fair.”

Silence settled between them again, though this time it felt more like shared ground than awkwardness.

Gabriel leaned forward slightly, his mind already turning over the problem from a dozen angles, trying to build something workable out of incomplete information, when a sharp sound cut cleanly through the room.

RING

Both of them snapped their attention toward the projection.

[This unit has found a solution.]

[Please observe.]

The display shifted smoothly, the looping animation replaced by a grainy, slightly off-angle image of a building taken from a distance, the kind of low-quality feed that suggested it had not been meant for this purpose.

On the roof, several familiar shapes stood out: air conditioning units, vents, and other standard installations that would not attract a second glance from anyone who did not know what they were looking for.

[Behold: this apartment building.]

[This unit is extremely talented and located an unsecured web camera intended for ‘avian’ observation.]

[After minor adjustments to its viewing angle, it now provides visual access to the roof.]

[Cross-referencing with publicly available imagery has allowed this unit to identify several visible objects.]

As Sparky spoke, sections of the image lit up one by one, each highlight accompanied by a small data panel.

[Mass communication equipment concealed within standard infrastructure.]

[Bird deterrent systems.]

[High-capacity heat dispersal units.]

[Water collection systems for thermal regulation.]

Gabriel leaned in slightly, his attention sharpening as the pieces started to align with his plan.

Mia, on the other hand, crossed her arms.

“Okay,” she said slowly, “that’s impressive, but unless you’re planning to become a pigeon, I’m not seeing how this helps us.”

[This unit is pleased that Mia has asked a question of such simplicity.]

[The parental unit will now provide the explanation, as this unit clearly already possesses it.]

[Totally.]

Mia rolled her eyes hard enough to feel it physically, but Gabriel was no longer listening.

He was putting the finishing touches on his plan.

Leftover electronics from the first heist.

A 3D printer that could fill in the gaps.

Roof access meant maintenance.

Maintenance meant systems.

And systems, no matter how isolated, were still vulnerable if you could get close enough.

He straightened slightly and looked back at Mia.

“How opposed are you to working with Nate?”

She blinked at him once, then frowned. “That depends,” she said. “Is this a hypothetical, or are you about to say something I really won’t like?”

“I think he can make it faster,” Gabriel replied. “You could do it, I know you could, but with him, it becomes quicker and a lot harder to trace back to us.”

Mia eyed him for a moment, a frown on her face.

She looked extremely conflicted.

“You don’t think Sparky or I could manage it?” She sounded somewhat offended.

He quickly shook his head. “I have a different task for Sparky. And I know you could do it. But with his help, it could be much faster.”

He paused briefly, then added, “And free.”

Mia stared at him, weighing that, the conflict on her face clear and unfiltered.

“You really know how to sell a terrible idea,” she muttered.

“I try.”

She dragged a hand down her face, then let it fall with a quiet slap against her leg.

“Fine,” she said at last, the word coming out like it cost her something. “I’ll do it. But if he says anything even remotely smug, I reserve the right to ruin his day.”

He smiled. “Noted.”

“And yours,” she added.

“Also noted.”

She pointed at him. “Good. Now, how exactly are you planning to reach him, since I’m guessing he’s not the ‘leave a message after the beep’ type.”

Gabriel turned his attention back to the projection.

“Sparky,” he said, “do you have his location?”

The response was immediate.

The screen shifted again, this time displaying a simplified map of the district before smoothly zooming in until it settled over a small, unimpressive motel, the kind of place that specialized in anonymity rather than comfort.

A phone number and extension appeared beneath it.

Mia let out a low groan. “I hate precogs,” she said flatly.

Gabriel had to agree with her.

But he also knew they didn’t have enough time to get into a philosophical discussion about precogs and the way they used powers.

Instead, he reached for his phone, thumbs already moving as he began typing out a list.

“I’ll send you what I need,” he said without looking up. “Get it however you can, just keep it quiet.”

Mia pushed herself to her feet, stretching as she did, her shirt lifting just enough to reveal a strip of toned skin before she dropped her arms again and yawned.

“Sure,” she said, already heading toward the door. She waved lazily over her shoulder as she stepped out.

“And hey,” she added, her voice drifting back in, “don’t be surprised if I figure out how to kill that asshole through a phone line.”

Gabriel snorted quietly to himself as the door closed.

“I would never…” he muttered, only Sparky hearing him.

Waiting for a moment, Gabriel let the silence settle just long enough to gather his thoughts, then turned his attention back to Sparky, his expression sharpening.

“Alright,” he said, leaning back slightly, “let’s talk about what we’re actually going to do.”

[This unit is prepared for any and all criminal activity.]

Gabriel’s mouth twitched faintly. “Good,” he replied dryly, “because I need a few things for my experiments, and I’d prefer not to get arrested before I even start.”

His thoughts moved quickly as he began mentally sorting through everything he had learned during his brief and highly educational but dangerous dive into crime, and more importantly, everything he had discovered he lacked.

The first problem was obvious.

At the end of the day, he was still just human.

A slightly enhanced body that barely tipped the scale beyond normal, paired with a moderately improved mind that helped him think faster but did nothing to stop a bullet or a knife, which in practical terms meant he was still dangerously fragile in a world where far worse things than either existed.

That was not going to be enough.

He would need to change that, and he would need to do it quickly.

Then there was the second issue, one that had already proven itself to be more of a limitation than he liked.

Anything larger than what he could comfortably carry in a backpack had to be carefully packaged and processed through his cards, which worked well enough in controlled situations but imposed delays that he could not afford if things went wrong.

Time, he was increasingly learning, was the one resource he never had enough of.

Then there was the question of his own personal power.

He still had several ampoules of the booster, the better-quality one set aside for Mia without question, but even the lower-grade versions represented potential if he used them differently.

Consuming them would do nothing for him.

But using them as a component, as part of a fusion, that was another matter entirely.

The thought made him pause, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Boosting the booster,” he murmured under his breath. “Hehe…I’m punny.”

He let out a quiet chuckle to himself, then shook his head and refocused.

The plan, at least in broad strokes, was simple.

He needed a way to move things without relying entirely on his cards.

He needed to reinforce his body enough that a random thug with a weapon would not be an immediate death sentence.

And he needed to do both without drawing attention.

“Let’s start simple,” he said aloud. “Find me the nearest sketchy health and fitness supplement shop. The kind that doesn’t ask questions unless they’re getting paid to.”

[This unit is already searching.]

A brief pause followed, the now familiar animated hourglass appearing for a moment.

[Target located.]

[Would you like to start navigation? Y/N]

“Not yet,” Gabriel said, lifting a hand slightly as if physically pausing the process. “First question. Do they deliver, or do I have to show up and pretend I belong there?”

Delivery, he had learned, was one of the stranger aspects of this world and this city.

Back where he came from, it had been slow, predictable, and largely confined to weekdays unless you were willing to pay a premium – or if it was an emergency – that made it barely worth the effort.

Here, it was almost casual.

Weekend deliveries were common, delays were shorter, and the entire system had clearly adapted to a population that included people who could level buildings but still needed baby food or emergency medicine on short notice.

It was inefficient in theory, but in practice, it worked.

And more importantly, it worked in his favor.

Not all shops offered it, but most small stores and almost all sketchy stores did. The first one to boost sales, and the second one, because they usually serviced the less reputable side.

[Yes.]

“Show me the site,” he said. “Let’s see what they offer...”

The projection flickered and shifted, replacing the text interface with a website that looked like it had been designed in an era where blinking text and mismatched fonts had been considered cutting-edge.

Gabriel stared at it for a second.

“Wow,” he said flatly. “That is aggressively terrible.”

[This unit believes the correct term is ‘retro.’]

“That’s not helping,” he replied.

Still, function mattered more than aesthetics, and with Sparky’s assistance, he began selecting items, moving through the listings with growing efficiency as he built a cart that would have raised several eyebrows in any legitimate setting.

He selected recovery medications in bulk quantities, joint and bone supplements, immune boosters, probiotics, and powders that promised everything from enhanced cognition to improved stamina, Omega-3 oils, energy enhancers, protein, creatine, and enough multivitamins and mineral blends to supply a small gym for months.

He did not bother pretending moderation was a concern.

If even a fraction of it proved useful in his experiments, it would be worth it.

“And we’re not paying for any of this,” he added casually.

[This unit is going to offer them a deal they are not going to refuse.]

“Good. I’d hate to support such a… reputable business.”

Thanks to their laughably weak cybersecurity, everything would be delivered completely free to a bogus address, which he planned to swing by and collect from tomorrow without anyone being the wiser.

Under normal circumstances, he might have felt at least a twinge of guilt about defrauding a small business like this, but Sparky’s deep dive into their systems had made it abundantly clear that the supplement shop was nothing more than a convenient front.

Behind the cheap branding and poorly designed website sat a far more profitable operation dealing in drugs and steroids, and from what he had seen, their actual security was only marginally more competent than their web design, which was almost impressive in its own way.

For a brief moment, the thought crossed his mind to take advantage of that.

He could order steroids in bulk, run them through his power, strip away the side effects, and keep the benefits, effectively turning something dangerous into something usable.

It was tempting.

Very tempting.

But after a few seconds of consideration, he shook his head and dismissed the idea before it could take root.

He already had enough problems with the enemies he currently had.

There was no need to add to the list.

Leaning back slightly, he steepled his fingers together, his attention shifting as he moved on to the next issue that needed solving.

“Now,” he said under his breath, “how do I make a storage ring…”

The basic framework came together easily enough.

He would need a ring, obviously, something small, durable, and easy to keep on him at all times.

Binding it to himself through blood would take care of security, ensuring that no one else could simply take it and access whatever was inside.

That part was straightforward.

The real problem was adding the concept of space and storage.

He glanced around the room, searching for something, anything, that could serve as a conceptual anchor for what he was trying to achieve, something he could use in the fusion process to represent expansion without losing structure.

His gaze eventually settled on his old backpack, worn from daily use but still intact, a simple container that held more than it seemed at a glance, even if only in the mundane sense.

Boxes would have been better.

He clicked his tongue softly as he remembered throwing them out earlier, a small decision that now felt annoyingly inconvenient. They would have been excellent for this experiment.

Leaning back further, he let his mind wander through possibilities, trying to find something that captured the idea of expanded space without turning it into something unstable or abstract.

“Maybe a balloon…” he said slowly, testing the idea out loud.

After several more minutes of going in circles without landing on anything useful, he let out a quiet breath and pushed himself upright again, abandoning theory in favor of practicality.

He turned his attention back to Sparky.

“Get me access codes to the other Freshway shop,” he said. “I’m going to need a lot of boxes, and I’d rather not have to explain why I’m taking them.”

He knew that all Freshway stores had several stacks of fresh cardboard boxes ready to be used for anything. Picking them up would allow him to cheaply begin his experiment.

He pushed himself to his feet, stretching out the tension in his shoulders before reaching down to pick up Sparky’s device, the faint glow of the screen shifting as it adjusted to the movement.

“Come on,” he added, his tone easing just slightly now that the planning was done. “Let’s get some rest while we still can.”