From Prey to Precious

The Hunt Begins

Brian’s POV:

I’m completely awestruck.  I was expecting a complete disaster, but my bike is magnificent.  You can’t even tell that I had crashed it or let it slide over about twenty feet of concrete.  I was deeply concerned that I had trashed the bike beyond all repair.  I know that I had twisted the frame, the paint job was completely trashed, and I can only imagine what I did to it when I kicked it off of my leg.  But here it was.  As good as new.  Better than new.  Whomever worked on my bike had managed to make improvements that I hadn’t even thought of.  The fuel intake system had been streamlined and optimized.  It now also had the option for a small NOS system.  It also sported a new brake system, to handle its increased speed capabilities. The body and the frame of the motorcycle have been re-enforced with a alloy that I’m not familiar with.  The bike is still fairly, light weight but I get the impression that this metal can take more abuse and handle more torque than it ever could before.

Then there’s the paint job. The whole motif of the bike is red and black and reminds me of a black widow spider. Upon closer inspection I find a few more details that were easy to miss at first glance.  Painted down the side fairings were Norse runes for speed and power.  On the gas tank was painted stylized black widow spiders with a light gray fog swirling around them.  As I look more closely at the spiders, I realize that three of the spiders are black widow females and one of them is a male. I trace my fingertips lightly over the spiders and realize in runic script, just below the gas cap is the word “family”.  I can feel a small smile spread over my lips as I gaze at the spiders adorning my gas tank.

It’s then that I notice the greeting card envelope taped to the seat.  There’s no name on the envelope, but it’s obviously meant for me.  I gently remove the envelope from the seat, making sure that there is no adhesive residue stuck to the leather or that the tape didn’t rip and leave a portion stuck to the seat. I then flip the envelope over and realize that the envelope is actually sealed with a deep red, wax seal.  The seal has the face of a fox on it with the name “Readmond” written beneath the picture.  I break the seal and pull out the card from the envelope.  It’s a simple stationary with cream colored paper and a silver border with the same fox face that was depicted on the seal.

“Since when does Vincent have stationary?” I mutter ruefully to myself as I open the card.

“Brian- I hope you enjoy the bike. Let me know how she runs. If you’re nice to me, I might even give you the name of the employee that worked on it. V”

I smirk and shake my head slightly as I tuck the card back inside the envelope and slip it into my back pocket. I then notice the red ribbon attached to the small windshield and remove it, again being careful not to damage the impressive paint job. I then gently place the tarp back over the bike before getting back inside my car to park in properly in the lot out back.  I put the Impala in park and make sure that it’s locked up before I make my way into the garage. I normally don’t stop too long in the work area and just head directly to my office.  But I find myself looking for Wayne just to check in and see if there is anything that needs my attention.  I find him laying on a Creeper underneath of a Thunderbird and I gently nudge his foot to get his attention.  He wheels out from underneath the car and his expression immediately changes from his carefree smile to one of apprehension when he realizes that it’s me.

“Hey Wayne. How’re things around here? Anything in particular I need to know about,” I ask as I lean up against the front fender of the car.  The second I do; I catch a slight whiff of some intoxicating scent.  This scent has been dancing on the edge of my perception for weeks and I just can’t figure out what it is.  Normally, this would really bother me, ok to be honest normally it would really piss me off and I’d spend hours trying to track it down again, but today I just let it go.

Wayne gently puts the wrench he was holding onto his stomach and wheels out from under the car slightly further. “Uh, no not really. Are you feeling alright boss?” he asks with concern as he braces himself to slowly sit up.

My face screws up with a look of confusion as I look down at Wayne, “Yeah, everything’s fine. Why?” I ask.

“You just seem... a little different that’s all,” he says as he reaches over and grabs a rag off of the ground to wipe his hands before he gets up off of the Creeper to stand in front of me.

I shrug slightly before pushing off from the car and put my hands in my pockets. “Nope, perfectly fine.  Well, if there’s nothing in particular you need, I’m going to head back to my office to make a few phone calls,” I say as I head over to my office.

I can feel Wayne’s eyes on my back as I casually make my way back over to the office.  I don’t know what’s got him so on edge but if he chooses not to tell me what it is, there’s nothing that I can really do about it.  Besides, I really need to give Vincent a call and thank him for the amazing job that he did on my bike.  There’s no way that could have been the work of one of his human employees.  He must have just been having fun with me.

I chuckle softly to myself as I quietly shut my office door and take a seat in my chair behind the desk.  I continue to smile to myself as I pull out my cell phone and punch the button for Vincent’s private line at the garage. After about three rings the line connects.

“Vinnie’s Garage, this is Vinnie how can I help you?”

“Evening Vincent, it’s me.  I just wanted to call and let you know that I got the bike.”

“Oh hey Brian. So, what do you think of her?”

“She’s amazing.  I don’t know that I could’ve done a better job and some of the improvements you made I had never even thought of.  How did you manage to make those adjustments on the fuel intake system anyway?” as I absently push a pencil around on my desk.

Vincent chuckles a little bit as I hear the familiar flick of a lighter in the background.  “I have no idea.  There’s a lot of improvements that the mechanic made that I didn’t even think of.  The only thing I did to that bike of yours was order parts, and make sure to clean out your secret compartments so the mechanic didn’t find your stakes, extra blood bags and the other compromising things that you had stowed away in there.”

“Yeah sure, you really think I was created yesterday? There’s no way that a human could have pulled that off, much less pulled it off in only a week!” I say with exasperation as I flick the pencil away from me to roll off of the edge of the desk.

“Brian, have I ever lied to you? I’m telling you that one of my very human employees did all of the work on your bike. Everything from the design, to programming the computer, updating the brake system to handle the NOS and the paint job. Literally everything!”

I just sit there in shocked silence as I’m trying to process what Vincent’s just told me. A human? It’s impossible. I already had modifications on my bike that would baffle any other mechanic I’ve ever come across and whomever worked on my bike managed to actually improve on them.

“Truly?” I all but whisper, “a human?”

“Truly. Oh and Brian, one more thing, because I know exactly where that mind of yours is going. No poaching!  I found her first,” he says darkly as the line disconnects.

“Her?” I say to the empty phone line as I bring the phone away from my ear and begin slowly pacing around my office.

I only make one lap around the office before I come to a stop.  I need to talk to Vincent and find out more information about this mechanic.  I know he said no poaching, but maybe I can convince him to at least let me borrow this employee for a little while to work on some particularly demanding projects I have in the works. Who knows, maybe after they work for me on those projects for a bit they might just decide they prefer working for me instead.  I smirk to myself as I reach back into my pants pocket and fish out the keys to the Impala.

I know Vincent won’t talk to me on the phone about this anymore.  He’ll just hang up on me and then refuse to come to the phone. I’m going to have to go over there and talk to him face to face.

I walk briskly out of my office and make my way back through the garage and head to where I parked the Impala.  I know that there’s a chance that even if I leave right now, I might miss my opportunity to talk to Vincent.  He’s a sly old devil and I know he enjoys playing these kinds of games.

I march right by Darci’s surprised expression, as she leans against the desk in the front office, and out the door.  I’m vaguely aware of her calling after me as I open the door to my car and slide into the driver’s seat.  But I can’t be distracted by any of her nonsense right now. I need to go and see Vincent to get this whole puzzle figured out otherwise it will just east away at me until I do.

Luckily the traffic is very light and I manage to make record time getting over to Vincent’s garage.  I pull up and park the car in an open parking space before shutting my car door a little harder than I intended and make my way back to Vincent’s office.  As I’m walking through the garage I scan over the faces of the employees working there, looking for both Vincent or any indication of which one of these humans were the ones who worked on my motorcycle.  But I see neither Vincent nor any indication of whom may have worked on my bike as I stalk through the various work areas.

I reach the door to Vincent’s office without anyone trying to stop me and I pull open the door and let myself in without even bothering to knock. Surprisingly I find Vincent seated behind his desk, calmly puffing away on a cigarette as if he’s been waiting for me to arrive this entire time.

He leans forward and crushes the remainder of his cigarette in the large glass ashtray on his desk that is already overflowing with butts. “Ah Brian,” he says with a large smirk on his face as he ensures that the cigarette is well and truly out, “what an unexpected surprise.  To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asks mockingly as he sits back in his chair and steeples his fingers in front of his face.  Looking for all the world like some evil mastermind in a superhero movie.

I move to stand in front of his desk and attempt to fix him with a glare.  “You know exactly why I’m here Vincent. I want to know who exactly worked on my bike.”

He chuckles a little bit before indicating the rolling stool in the corner of the office.  “Of course Brian, of course.” He leans forward from his chair as I position the stool in front of his desk and settle myself onto it.

Vincent rests his arms on the desk, his hands clasped in front of him as he gives me a mischievous smile.

“So my boy, what is it you want to know?”

“Everything.”