Marvin was expecting to be put in some dungeon or prison cell. Yes, it was a garage, but it wasn't a stretch that the Sawblades would have a dungeon. Instead, Marvin and Ben were tied to chairs and kept in the epicenter of the workshop.
It was a shame that they were captives, because it truly was a marvelous workshop. Mechanic arms flew along ceiling cables, moving parts from one storage mountain to another. The walls were covered in blueprints, and holograms illuminated every square inch of the floor. Several thin monitors were perched on each worktable, overseen by a giant screen that loomed on the back wall. A low quality speaker in the corner played music that rose above the constant hum of machinery.
And of course, there was the yelling. The Manhunters yelled at the Sawblades very often.
Marvin couldn't understand what they were so pressed about. As far as he could tell, they were simply making engines and other shuttle components. Gerard was at the center of the chaos, shoving between Sawblades and giving orders to Manhunters. It was clear he was in charge of the garage, an emissary of Jacques who was taking his role too seriously. They might not be hostages, but looking at how stressed the Sawblades were, this wasn't much better.
They come in and out, moving truckloads of stuff, Marvin recalled. Ishaan had been extremely wary of whatever they were doing.
Does he know I'm here? Could he help us get out?
That was a futile hope. Gerard knew they knew Ishaan; there was no way they would be allowed to see each other. Worse, the Manhunters could have hurt Ishaan because of Marvin.
Footsteps approached from Marvin's left. A Sawblade appeared in front of him. The man wore a simple green leather jacket with fringes at the elbows that looked like saws. A lesser gang like them couldn't afford the distinction of the Manhunters or Centium.
"You friends of Ishaan, I heard?" the Sawblade said.
"Not really," Ben said.
Oh, so now you're talking, Marvin thought bitterly.
The Sawblade scowled. "This is nothing personal. I speak for all of us—we want this cleared up fast. We need our pilot, you hear?"
"That's not really in our control," Ben murmured.
"Didn't say it was," the Sawblade said. He rolled back his shoulders. "I don't want to see the Manhunters' mood on day three. If this thief doesn't show up after day two, we might just kill you ourselves."
Marvin had no idea what the logic behind that was. Wouldn't a better way to relieve the tension be to hunt down Sangeet themselves?
The Sawblade sauntered off, and Marvin heard a rapid series of taps behind him. Ben was shivering in his chair.
Marvin tensed up. Of course Ben was scared—they now only had two days to live! Two days to either escape or for Sangeet to become a saint and turn himself in. The latter was most definitely not happening.
What's wrong with me? Why was my reaction delayed?
Marvin disallowed himself from dwelling on that. Right now he needed to think of a way to escape. Unfortunately, the Manhunters had done something rather ingenious and put a paranade between his clamped robot hands. If he let go to break free of the shackles, he'd set off an electric charge, killing himself and paralyzing Ben. He could stand up, but since he and Ben's chairs were tied together, he'd end up lifting up his friend and going off balance.
"Ben," Marvin hissed. "Any ideas?"
No response—not like Ben could do much more than Marvin in this situation. This wasn't something they could talk their way out of. The best option was somehow breaking his arms free without triggering the grenade. If he could hold it securely with one hand…
The hours passed, and Marvin's brain grew emptier by the minute. It seemed so easy, yet his hands were positioned in a manner that he couldn't get them apart without loosening tension. It wasn't before long before he began to cope.
It'll be okay, he told himself. Caroline will call the cops. That Amir guy will help us.
After a bit, the activity in the garage dwindled. Half of the lights flickered off and the machines stopped humming. Manhunters and Sawblades alike cleared out.
Marvin counted seconds in his head. One minute. Two minutes. They'd seemingly been left alone. He primed his voice box to speak to Ben.
Suddenly, a metal door to his right slid open and four Manhunters entered. One of them was Gerard; the other three were unfamiliar. However, seeing how the one walking in front wore a white suit instead of black and had the most elaborate cybernetic goggles by far, Marvin figured he was Jacques.
Behind them, metallic footsteps thundered on the concrete floor. In the darkness beyond the doorway, a dozen scarlet lights materialized. A hulking figure stooped below the frame and stepped into the light: the Manhunters' mech in all its glory—ten feet tall, black and white paint with the signature red insect eyes. Its head was built to resemble a praying mantis, while its arms tapered off into sharp backhand blades.
Its name is literally Mantis, Marvin recalled. He'd considered dueling it last season, but his team had decided against it.
Jacques picked up a nearby chair, set it across from Marvin, and sat down while the other three Manhunters remained standing, the mech looming behind them. Marvin glanced at Gerard. Wasn't he at odds with Jacques? Why was he here? Had he been saying all that stuff behind Jacques' back?
"I truly am sorry about this," Jacques said, folding his hands. "But for once, Gerard here might've been right. We don't have time to hunt down this Sangeet. Still, this is a matter we can't overlook. We had to go to great lengths to get those mech parts. Great lengths."
Marvin clenched his teeth. So what? He and Ben weren't the ones stealing them.
"In times like these, we try our best to smooth things over," Jacques continued. "I wish there was another way, but… this city is a cruel place." He gestured to Marvin. "What's your name?"
"Steve," Marvin muttered.
"You have any family, Steve? Any close friends, anyone we can contact?"
"What?"
"We'll let them know what happened to you in the case your scavenger friend doesn't show up. It'll give them solace."
Marvin's heart hammered in his hull. Solace? Where's the solace in knowing your friend was murdered?
He found his joints tightening. Was this what they'd said to his teammates? Did they think that Lindon, Theo, and Sina would be at peace knowing the exact reason he'd been killed?
Marvin glanced at the mech and thought of Gammagrade. Whose side would Ishaan take? Could he even afford to double-cross the Manhunters?
"Nothing will happen to them," Jacques said. "Whatever happens in the next three days will be the end of this."
Marvin stayed silent. His cameras flicked to the other Manhunters, trying to catch any sympathy in their faces. But the only one who showed any emotion was Gerard, and it definitely was not sympathy. The younger Manhunter watched Jacques like a hawk, a mixture of disdain and fascination in his eyes. Hatred, yet begrudging admiration.
"Fine," Jacques said. He stood up and walked around to face Ben. The mech followed him, each step causing Marvin to tremble. "And you? What's your name?"
"Ben."
"Contacts of family? Friends?"
No reply.
"You're accomplishing nothing," Jacques said. "No one besides that scavenger can save you."
"Why?" Ben murmured.
"There are certain boundaries we set with the police and Hosaka. Things they understand are our business and can't interfere with." Jacques' voice lowered to an almost compassionate tone. "This is a crime that can't go unanswered."
"What about killing Marvin Yao?" Ben whispered.
As if the room wasn't quiet enough, it fell dead silent. Marvin heard a shuffle of cloth as Jacques stood up.
The first time he speaks in hours and he says that. But Marvin knew what this was: a gamble. A way to confirm or deny that the Manhunters had killed him.
Whatever the case, they won't kill us right now, he thought. They need to wait the three days for Sangeet.
Well, two if the Sawblades kept their word.
Gerard's nostrils flared and he unfolded his prosthetic claw. Marvin was so startled that he almost crushed the paranade in his hands.
"You want to be killed now?" Gerard demanded. "Is that it?"
"Shut up, Gerard!" Jacques snapped, causing the younger Manhunter to glower. Then, in a softer voice, he continued, "That is a vile rumor, Ben. These are levels of depravity not even the Sawblades would stoop too."
Marvin wanted to rotate his head 180 degrees to observe the Manhunters' leader. Nothing could be discerned from his tone; he could've been lying through his teeth or he could've been genuinely defensive.
Ben might've picked up something.
His friend had been a source of frustration lately, but for this Marvin was impossibly grateful.
Now we just transfer this ingenuity to making an escape plan.
Footsteps headed in Marvin's direction, and soon, Jacques was in his periphery again. The gang leader smoothed out his white suit and scoffed at Gerard's claw hand.
"Get that thing out of my sight."
Gerard retracted it without hesitation.
Jacques turned to Marvin and Ben. "We'll be back," he said.
And then the four Manhunters and their mech turned and left the room.