The Maiden's Fall

Chapter III: Heads or Tails

Puzzles never were my pastime of choice, probably having to do with being made to "fix" what someone else has "broken". It's difficult to put time and effort into fixing something when so much of who I was could be called broken. Unfortunately, it was this disinterest that forced me to rely on the stranger. Between his thumb and pointer finger was a gear the size of a coin, the last puzzle piece keeping me here.

"So, this fell out of the bike?" He brought the piece close to his eye, (F/N) clucked at the dirt and grit collected on the once sterling metal. Didn't realize the distinction mattered until I found myself correcting him. "Bumblebee."

"Right," he placed the gear back on the metal slab that served as my bed. He tapped a muddy finger onto the steel bit. "Good news is it doesn't look like you stripped it. Sure, it isn't spotless but it's clean enough I won't need to clean it." He stepped aside allowing light to pool down from my semi-basement window. I feigned ignorance as his eyes roved around Gander's Bookstore, I'd already done my share of snooping in his home.

"But do you know where it goes?" I heaved cans of combustion dust onto the slab, the metal creaked beneath the weight. My return to Vale left Bumblebee nearly on empty, and she'd taken quite a beating once I'd arrived.

"Tell me how it fell out." He rubbed the stubble on his chin, fully engrossed in diagnosing the problem.

"I was near Beacon when a Briar's arm was wedged in the back wheel. The spokes chopped it to bits but when everything had sprayed out, she wouldn't run. I found that lodged in a bit of marrow."

"What the hell were you doing so close to Beacon?" It was a valid question, the only people who went near that mausoleum were looking for a poppy field. This term might be new to people who'd never been near an active area and I won't apologizer for being thankful for that.

During the lowest points of the war, when it was still raging, refugees called the grounds of the school a poppy field. The grass was stained red with the blood from a previous active warzone. After a mother buried her family or a child was left parentless, we'd sometimes find beds empty. Word would spread they'd gone to the poppy fields overnight. Once someone's lost everything we'd put them on poppy watch, but as our numbers thinned less could be put on watch duty and more were claimed by the poppy field.

"I was looking for something. Can you fix it?"

We both avoided each other's eye contact, let him think what he will about me. "Yeah. From the make and model, you described, I think it's part of the ignition." Pacing around the slab with my arms crossed, I eyed him skeptically. Hope and fortune were two faces I hadn't seen much of lately. "How long will it take you to fix it?"

He mulled it over. "Twenty minutes."

"I need it to be five." There it was: the hitch. "I had to leave the bike in a...rough spot."

Waiting around the area for twenty minutes was asking to be carted off to the Wail. "Thank you, now goodbye." I started toward the stairwell to lead him out.

"Wait." I smirked at his desperate attempt to stay relevant. "I could shave it down to five."

"So you'll magically shave off fifteen minutes?"

"Not magically, you see, the model of bike has a special cover on the back to keep out dirt and water. Removing it cleanly takes about ten minutes, but if I just ripped it off I could put this gear back where it belongs and ignore putting the cover back on."

"Why didn't you say that before?"

"Because I'd be technically gutting the bike and making it a nonstop ride. Once it's on it'll stay on the entire way. No slowing down, no stopping, no refueling." He held the back of his head, "I could get it done in three maybe."