Chapter 26: Hands Up, Kid
It was nearing supper time on Levi's second day of training.
Rufus stepped outside, a fresh bale of alfalfa hoisted on his shoulder.
"Feedin' time, ya grizzled ass!"
He dropped the bale with a heavy thud. From the barn, Diego came trotting out, head high, black hair slick, white snout twitching. He shot Rufus a quick snort before tearing into the pile.
"I could always piss on that before givin' it to ya. How'd ya like that, ya walkin' piece of leather?"
Grumbling, he dumped a bucket of honeyed oats into a trough, then tossed it into a barrel and stalked off—making sure to spit in the donkey's direction as he went.
"When that thing dies, it's goin' to hell. Otherwise, this whole thing's rigged."
He yanked open the screen door—
Boom.
The house vibrated.
Rufus stopped short.
"What the—?"
He suddenly spotted the kids. They were all gathered, sitting in a half-circle around the basement door, whispering in hushed, excited voices.
His brow creased.
"What are you little spuds up to?"
"Ssshhhhh!"
He jolted slightly at the response. Even blushed a little. Lowered his voice.
"What's goin' on? Y'all are givin' me the creeps."
Kati-Bird barely spared him a glance, her eyes fixed on the door.
"Listen."
Rufus opened his mouth—
Boom. Boom–Boom.
Three more followed, deep and muffled, like something slamming into stone.
His brows shot up.
"Alright, outta the way. Scoot, scoot!"
Intrigued now, he pushed through the cluster of kids and reached for the basement door. Then, at the last second, he paused.
Slowly, he looked over his shoulder.
"I want y'all to promise me somethin'. If I don't come back in ten minutes—"
He jolted, throwing his hands up—
"Run for it!"
"Aahhhh!"
The kids all yelped before dissolving into laughter, already repeating the joke to each other as Rufus smirked, strutting down the stairs.
"Now what the hell are they doin' down there?"
Boom... BOOM, BOOM!
Rufus picked up the pace, unease creeping in.
As he shoved open the landing door, rapid-fire bursts cracked through the air.
BOO—BOOM—BO—BOO—BOOM!
"What in the bleedin' hell is goin' on—!"
His annoyance vanished.
He stood still, slack-jawed.
"Holy shit! Is that the kid?"
The mine was chaos.
Dust swirled, kicked up by bursts of movement too fast for normal folks to track. Edmond and the kid were shirtless and going at it, fists flying, their fight weaving through the wreckage.
The practice saber was gone.
Edmond wasn't holding back. He moved with the precision of a seasoned pugilist, his footwork steady, his blacksteel arms cutting through the air like pistons. Each punch cracked the space between them, the force near breaking the air around them.
His augments were different from the kid's—sleek, organic, metal segmented like muscle, vents along his biceps hissing with every strike.
But Levi was a damn blur.
He wasn't fighting like any man Rufus had ever seen—more like some wild thing, a monkey hopped up on lightning. He flipped, rolled, twisted through the air, launching kicks and punches in a way that shouldn't have worked, but somehow did. When Edmond's fists came too close, the kid barely slipped past them, dodging by a hair. When he couldn't, his blacksteel arm snapped up, catching the blows head-on.
BOOM!
That was the noise.
That bone-rattling explosion.
It wasn't dynamite, wasn't some cave-in. It was them. Steel meeting steel, the impact shaking the walls.
Rufus had counted on a lot of things. Counted on the sounds coming from the kid? Not one of 'em.
Second last thing he expected—seeing that look on Edmond's face again.
Man looked happy.
"Seems he's takin' to it. Don't think I've ever seen his trainin' work before."
Rufus mulled it over, then sneered as he fished out a smoke.
"Maybe he just likes gettin' beat. One of those dang perverts."
He squinted, watching the kid's face real close.
"Least he's finally usin' his mesh right."
Down below, Levi wasn't just keeping up—he was locked in.
Every ounce of his brain was firing on using his mesh right—how to move, how to react, how to make it work like it was part of him. But the longer he fought, the more something else crept in.
This was fun.
Duck. Spin. Strike. Block. Kick.
Each movement felt slow yet rushed, like his body hadn't caught up with what his mind already knew. The final moment of every attack cracked—what looked low went high, what seemed wide snapped tight inside. The mesh was working. And he was keeping up.
But it wasn't just his own body that amazed him. It was Edmond.
Fighting the man felt like chiseling a mountain with a wooden spoon. Every strike, every shift, every feint—nothing worked. Edmond barely budged. But at the same time, Levi wasn't getting hit either. The old man threw strikes like sledgehammers, but none landed clean.
Levi was figuring him out.
It never took him long—same way he could pick out augments, spot weaknesses, read patterns in the way people moved.
Right now, he knew how to defend. How to slip past. How to avoid.
What he didn't know was how to actually land a damn hit.
BOOM!
Edmond blocked his spinning backfist like it was nothing.
'Too fast!'
Before Levi could pull back, another punch came for his chest.
BOOM!
Levi skidded back, boots dragging through the dirt. His arm raised across his chest, the blacksteel smoking.
Edmond's back was near a pillar. An idea.
Levi extended and fired.
Pst—THMP!
The claw shot past Edmond's head— BANG! Miss.
The cable hit stone. Edmond barely tilted aside.
Levi pulled. Every ounce of his mesh released at the last second.
CRACK!
A chunk of rock tore free—slamming into Edmond's back. He stumbled.
'Now!'
No pause. No grin. Levi closed the distance, the cable snapping back to his arm just in time— Click!
His fist came down—
WHACK!
'Huh?'
That single thought was all he had time for.
The mine spun. His stomach lurched. The ceiling became the ground—
CRASH!
Dirt filled his mouth. His skull rattled. His body hurt and confused.
"Ha-ha! Saw it comin' a mile away! We call that the sleeper, kid! How's it feel?!"
Levi groaned.
Instead of standing over Edmond, it was the other way around. A bit of smoke curled from the older man's fist as he brushed dust off the back of his head.
"Sneaky. I like it."
"Then why'd you hit me so damn hard?"
Levi pushed himself up, rubbing his jaw. He silently thanked the Lord above he didn't have a glass chin.
"That wasn't hard. Most of the force came from you. You still fully commit too soon. Not every opening's an opening."
Edmond turned to Rufus.
"Supper started yet?"
Flicking his smoke, Rufus started down the stairs, unbuttoning his vest and shirt.
"Should be done here soon."
Reaching the bottom, he laid his coat, vest, and shirt over the railing. Rolling his shoulders, he cracked his neck, then stretched his arms across his chest.
Levi blinked.
He was shocked. These men were in better shape than most half their age.
Rufus, all grins and bad intentions, was cut like he hadn't aged a day past thirty. Edmond? Built solid like a warhorse. These men weren't just strong—they were dangerous.
And now, Levi could see exactly why.
As Rufus rolled his shoulders, the dim light caught on the metal plating of his entire right arm, running seamless from fingertips to shoulder. Thick cables snaked through his skin, vanishing into the base of his neck. The augments weren't just for show—they flexed with him, shifting like muscle, vapor hissing faintly from the joints.
Then—a quiet click.
Levi's pulse quickened as Rufus' eyepatch retracted into his skull, revealing the glowing red eye beneath. It burned, deep and unnatural, scanning the room with an eerie precision.
His grin never faded.
"Alright, kid. My turn."
Edmond frowned.
"What're you doing?"
"Can't say he got a rounded education unless we both get a turn."
Edmond rolled his eyes and turned to Levi.
"Wouldn't be any shame in turning him down."
"Dammit, Edmond, quit hoggin' the fun."
"He's been fighting all—"
"It's fine."
Levi's voice cut in, sharp. Edmond hesitated.
The kid wasn't just agreeing—he was staring daggers at Rufus, shoulders squared, body tense. That was personal.
"Been wanting to shut his trap for a while."
Rufus grinned like he'd just been given a Christmas present.
"That so?"
Rolling his eyes, Edmond scooped up his shirt and slung it over his shoulder.
"You're not gonna watch?"
Levi asked, not looking away from Rufus.
"Don't worry, kiddo."
Fwoom. Snap!
A cross, a jab. Simple—but the sound of it stopped Levi cold. That wasn't just speed. That was force.
Rufus grinned wider.
"He knows how this is gonna end."
Edmond paused at the landing, shaking his head like a man who'd seen this play out too many times.
"Heads up, kid. When it comes to hands, Rufus's boxing is leagues above mine. Good luck."
Levi blinked.
"Wait, what do you—"
WHACK!
His head snapped sideways, stars bursting in his vision. Blood dripped fresh from his nose.
Rufus bounced on his toes, fists loose, throwing shadow punches.
"Hands up, kid."
Levi wiped his face, eyes flashing.
"Oh, I've been waitin' for this."
Edmond stepped through the door, shaking his head as the first heavy blows landed.
Levi's gritted curses and Rufus's easy laughter echoed after him.
Almost made him feel bad.
Almost.
----
All three sat around the dining room table. The house was still, the kids tucked in after another tall tale from Uncle Rufus. The only movement came from the flickering oil lamp and the shifting of maps and notes, the two older men quietly pouring over their plans for the Crimson Song.
The only one not content wasn't hard to spot.
Levi, slumped in his chair, held a bag of ice to his cheek while another was strapped to his head, his face a battlefield of fresh bruises.
The conversation stalled as Levi winced—hard—the ice on his head slipping free, sliding straight down his face.
"Ouch, ow, ow, ow—fuck, fuck!"
A rapid-fire string of curses as he scrambled to catch it, knocking over his empty cup in the process.
Edmond and Rufus both coughed, doing their level best to suppress their laughter as they turned back to their notes.
'Fuckin' assholes. They set me up.'
He still couldn't believe how thoroughly Rufus had whooped him. He'd known the man was strong, but that wasn't just strength—that was something else entirely. One thing had been made perfectly clear: Rufus Gunn was someone you didn't take lightly.
Levi adjusted in his chair, wincing as he removed the strap from his chin, setting the ice down with an exaggerated thud—loud enough to draw their attention.
"When do we leave?"
Edmond's eyes lingered on the bruises but dismissed them just as quick. Kid healed fast. Instead of answering, he poured a glass of whiskey and slid it over.
"Tomorrow."
Wincing from the cut on his lip, Levi took a swig, letting the liquor dull the sting.
"Assuming she's still there, this plan leaves no room for her escape. You sure you're good with it?"
Finishing the drink, he slammed the glass down, pushing it forward for another.
"It was my idea. Be stupid to back out now."
"That's the spirit!"
Rufus grinned, knocking back his own.
"Besides, with you sittin' outta the fight, you need a way to earn your share. Words alone don't buy much of a cut."
"If it weren't for me, you wouldn't—!"
Wham!
The bottle hit the table hard as Edmond finished pouring Levi another drink.
"Enough."
His voice left no room for argument.
"The plan's set, and so is the split. Even three ways. We leave early, so both of you quit bickering and get to bed."
Motioning to Levi's drink.
"Finish that and take another, then sleep."
Edmond pushed back his chair and headed for his room without another word.
'Get to bed?'
Man thought he was his father. Levi almost had a word about that but let it go. Didn't have the steam to fight about it.
Across from him, Rufus barely held back a laugh as he stood.
"When a man's right, a man's right. Off to bed. Tough business beatin' the shit outta someone."
"Fuck you, you sidewindin'—!"
Levi went to throw the glass, but Rufus had already ducked out, laughing like a jackass.
"Next time, I'm gonna fuck you up, old man! Just you wait! Wait till your ass is drunk!"
His hollering trailed after him, but then—he remembered the kids. Jaw tightening, he sat back down, finishing his drink with a frustrated gulp before pouring another.
His eyes dropped to the bounty notice.
Crimson Song.
The name should've made his stomach turn. But as he traced the ink, feeling the bruises and cuts a little less, his pulse picked up.
"Tomorrow."
The real hunt began.
A real Waster. A real bounty. A real fight.
And Levi Wilson would be right in the thick of it.