"Did you know?"
"Aye," the security chief, Ren, said after they rounded them up. "We also knew the original crew was ambushed on the way here by this Chainrunners gang."
Ren wasn't a heavily built man. Fit, solid frame, and on the older side. He looked a bit like Marcus but with more Ionian features.
"So we purposely let them come here and capture them and…? Why let it go on for so long?"
He shrugged indifferently.
"I was told to observe unless they tried to leave. Your only fuckup was not verifying the transport crew's identities the moment they stepped in. That being said, yeh didn't know Rigs, so I don't blame you. They took up his disguise well."
"So are we turning them in or doing our own work on them first?"
Ren arched a brow. "What do you think kid?"
"No," I make a face, realizing the stupidity of my own question. "Karvyq will want answers."
"Yeah," Ren sighed, amusedly watching the three be escorted through a door that led to the basement. A sadistic smile tugged at his lips. "They'll wish they were dead."
Walking back around to the rear of the wagon, I look at the other crates with a frown. Some of them were familiar. StimPatch logos for my mother's business, a barrel of what was most likely alcohol, a crate of raw minerals, and a few others.
"Are we going to return this to Chross to ship out or…?"
"Aye. But we're taking payment for catching their saboteurs."
I bob my head side to side, remembering our damaged crate. "Yeah… I doubt they'd know. And when it's returned, we can just say the Chainrunners stole it."
"Now you're catching on. Come on, let's have a look."
It was as you'd expect with medical supplies, alcohol, and raw minerals, but nothing truly valuable was on the cart. If there was anything worth stealing, it was already nabbed.
Grinning, Ren and the men drained some of the alcohol after relieving the shipment of a few medical supplies.
Frowning, I sat down next to the stairs leading into the unloading section of the bay and read through the documents brought back up from the captive gang members. The others loaded up the damaged goods while Ren returned to me, drinking alcohol from a glass taken from a container going to the same place.
Vander's bar.
"Rigs is wounded or dead then…" I mutter. "They got the shipment details which means they also knew what was going to be picked up here and at the other locations. That's why they came inside…"
They were thorough with their business too. Changed their outfits, got the details and information like Rigs' name…
"But they felt, I don't know, sloppy this time…"
"Chainrunners aren't a large or professional gang, believe it or not," Ren answered amusedly, leaning on the railing next to me. "Well, not professional in the sense of being a gang."
"What do you mean?"
"They're the heroes of the poor!" he said mockingly. "Professional thieves that intercept shipments. Sometimes it's forcibly, like today. Other times they'll forge documents."
Ren continued with a wry smile. "Professional skills behaving like businessmen, but what do they do with their spoils? Take a guess."
"Sell it?"
"Nah, that's what your average mind would think! No, these geniuses steal the shipments and hand it out to the poor. Doesn't matter if it came from Topside or below, and they take enough to keep their operations funded, or so they say."
"How do people know that?" I frown, finding it absurd.
They sounded like the Robin Hoods of Piltover.
"How else? People talk, they talk. They're still feared because they're still violent, don't get me wrong, but they're also loved because of that… mission?" Ren struggled to find the right word. "I bet you they have a loud-mouth or two that brag and gloat, maybe even strutting around with a self-righteous smirk."
"I get why you say they're professional but not," I murmur. "It doesn't make sense down here."
"Aye," Ren grunted again, finishing his drink. "They're good thieves, but not good impostors. That's why you, a fifteen-year-old brat, caught 'em."
"Psh, thanks."
"No problem," he said, giving my back a rough pat before straightening up with a stretch. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have some skin to flay. Ah, go let Anya know what happened."
"Yeah, I know."
Ren smiled before almost skipping toward the door.
After that, I let Anya know and she was pissed.
"There goes my fucking evening!" she threw her hands up in the air. Her gaze shot back to me, hesitant, before clawing her hair in frustration. "You're too inexperienced otherwise I'd have you hold down the front desk so I can settle this with Chross. Agh!"
"You? Settle this with Chross? I thought that's Karvyq's job? Or one of his upper management people?"
Anya glared at me and mimed switching multiple hats. "DUH!"
"Hey, I didn't know!"
"And now you do! It's going to be expected of you in the future!"
Her hands kept clenching and unclenching, obviously venting her anger and frustration. Suddenly, buried her face in her hands on the desk.
"I wanted to make it home at a normal time today..." she whined into her palms before parting two fingers to peek at me. I could see her blatant annoyance and defeat as she then, with one hand, set four coppers on the counter in front of me and shooed me toward the door.
"Go home..." she grumbled. "You did enough for today."
I blankly stared at the money before looking back at her, her head now buried in her arms.
"Are you sure you don't want help?"
She shook her head and shooed me toward the door again.
Well, I offered, I thought as I grabbed the four coppers and hiding my internal happiness. After leaving Gearwright Guild, I was beaming.
Two more coppers. Yay!