CHAPTER 43: ASSEMBLING THE CREW

Jax Davies’ workshop was not a place.

It was a state of mind.

And that state of mind was beautiful, chaotic, and probably illegal in seventeen states.

Tucked away in a forgotten corner of the Undercroft, behind a door marked with a crudely painted, grinning skull and the words "Knock Loudly, Run Fast," it was a cathedral of controlled demolition.

The air smelled of ozone, burnt sugar, and the sharp, metallic tang of Jax’s ambition.

Wires snaked across the ceiling like jungle vines, sparking intermittently.

Workbenches overflowed with a glorious, chaotic mess of half-finished gadgets, scavenged DGC tech, and enough C-4 to level a city block.

In the center of it all, a small, four-legged drone with googly eyes glued to its chassis was currently trying, and failing, to juggle a live sonic grenade.

This was where Jinx led them.

She kicked the door open without knocking.

"Jax!" she yelled into the chaos. "You in here, you magnificent disaster?"

A cheerful, ridiculously loud voice echoed from behind a mountain of empty energy drink cans.

"Jinx! My favorite pink-haired harbinger of poor life choices! To what do I owe the pleasure? Did you finally decide to let me install that rocket launcher on your rifle?"

A figure popped up from behind the cans, grinning from ear to ear.

He was all lanky limbs and restless energy, with a shock of messy blonde hair that looked like he’d styled it with a small explosion. Which, Michael guessed, he probably had.

He wore a grease-stained jumpsuit and a pair of welding goggles pushed up onto his forehead.

This had to be Jax.

His eyes, bright and full of a manic, infectious glee, landed on Michael and Chloe.

"And you brought friends!" he declared. "A spooky-looking pretty boy and... ooh, a scary lady in tactical gear who looks like she’s about to give me a lecture on proper safety protocols."

He vaulted over the workbench, landing in front of them with a theatrical bow.

"Jax ’Boomer’ Davies," he announced, "at your service. Master of mayhem, connoisseur of kabooms, and the only person in this city who can turn a toaster into a weapon of mass destruction. What can I break for you today?"

Chloe stepped forward, her expression a mask of cold, professional disapproval. She looked around the chaotic workshop as if it had personally offended her.

"Mr. Davies," she began, her voice crisp and clinical. "We have a proposition for you."

"Ooh, a proposition from the Boss Lady," Jax said, winking at Jinx. "I’m intrigued."

Chloe ignored him, pulling up the blueprint of Conduit Zero on a datapad.

"We require your... specialized expertise for a high-risk infiltration and demolition operation."

Jax peered at the blueprint, his grin widening.

"Conduit Zero," he breathed, his voice full of a sudden, reverent awe. "The holy grail. The big one. I’ve been trying to get my hands on these schematics for years."

He looked at the overlapping red circles marking the automated turrets.

"Gen-seven pulse cannons," he murmured, his eyes sparkling. "Beautiful. The energy cycling on those things is a work of art."

He then pointed to the pressure plates.

"And OmniCorp Gen-4s! The ones with the cascading explosive tripwires! Oh, this is just delightful!"

He looked up at them, his face shining with the pure, unadulterated joy of a kid who had just been handed the keys to the world’s most dangerous candy store.

"So, what’s the plan?" he asked eagerly. "Do we reroute the primary power conduit to overload the turrets in a glorious, cascading symphony of electrical fire? Or—and hear me out on this—what if we wire the building’s sprinkler system with a new hallucinogenic agent I cooked up, trip the fire alarm, and just waltz in while the guards are all trying to fight off imaginary dragons?"

"It’s way more stylish," he added helpfully.

"Negative," Chloe stated, her voice a block of solid ice. "Our operational parameters require a stealth-based approach. The mission is surgical. We go in, we plant the device, we get out. Minimal collateral damage."

Jax’s face fell.

"Minimal collateral damage?" he repeated, the words tasting like poison. "Boss Lady, where’s your sense of flair? That’s no fun at all."

He looked at Michael, a pleading expression on his face.

"Spooky, you look like a guy who appreciates a good light show. Back me up here."

Before Michael could answer, Jax’s gaze flickered between him and Chloe, a slow, mischievous grin spreading across his face. He’d noticed the tension. The weird, unspoken dynamic.

"Whoa, easy there, Captain No-Fun," he said, turning back to Chloe. "Don’t worry. I promise I won’t break your favorite new toy."

He gestured vaguely at Michael.

Chloe’s face, which had been a mask of cold disapproval, went completely rigid. A faint, almost invisible flush crept up her neck.

"He is a strategic asset," she bit out, her voice tight. "Not a toy."

"Right, right," Jax said, not believing her for a second. "Asset. Got it."

Jinx, who had been silently enjoying the show, finally decided to intervene.

"Cut the crap, Jax," she growled. "This isn’t a game. It’s a DGC black site. The same people who run Project Chimera."

Jax’s cheerful, manic energy vanished in an instant.

The smile faded from his face, replaced by a cold, hard stillness that was more intimidating than any explosion.

"Chimera," he said, the name a curse.

He looked at them, his eyes dark with a memory he didn’t share.

"The DGC has a term for the people who get caught in the crossfire of their black-ops," he said, his voice suddenly low and dangerous. "Acceptable losses."

"I had a family once," he whispered, his gaze distant. "They were deemed... acceptable."

He took a deep breath, and when he looked up, the manic gleam was back in his eyes, but it was sharper now. Harder.

It wasn’t just about fun anymore.

It was about revenge.

"Fine," he said, a wild, dangerous grin spreading across his face. "I’m in."

"But we do this my way."

He clapped his hands together, the sound echoing in the chaotic workshop.

"With style."

He paused, his grin turning feral.

"And significantly more explosions."

He strode over to a large, metal locker, throwing it open to reveal a beautiful, terrifying array of custom-made explosive charges, each one a unique and deadly work of art.

The core team was finally assembled.

A reaper. A scrapper. An analyst. And a madman with a love for things that go boom.

Jax turned back to them, rubbing his hands together with a glee that was both infectious and deeply unsettling.

"Alright, Team Misfit Toys," he declared, his voice full of a terrible, wonderful joy.

"Let’s go break something beautiful."