Fixer Needs Fixing

Ori nervously rubs his wrists as he sits in one of the small booths of the dingy burger joint. Judy had contacted a local Fixer and gotten him what was essentially a job interview for the underworld. He wasn't sure what to expect, but Judy had warned him to stay on his toes as anything and everything could go wrong, even during his first meeting.

What's worse is all he had was the shitty Budget Arms Slaught-O-Matic, a gun that was definitely not designed for intentional live combat, merely self-defence against common thugs. Not that he was confident in hitting his shots in the first place, he only hoped the Fixer wouldn't notice or care about his suboptimal equipment. The only other weapon he had was the knife on his belt that he'd 'acquired' from his apartment's kitchen...

He catches his reflection in a small grime-covered mirror on the wall, drawing his attention to his now slightly-pudgy cheeks... It'd only been a day since he'd texted Judy, yet he'd put on around 10kg of weight in that time.

Liberal use of IV nutrition and heaps of high-calorie and fat foods like cake and ice cream had allowed him to 'bulk up' in preparation for the Nanites to get to work, not to mention extra resources in case he took similar damage to last time.

His stomach acid had been temporarily enhanced by the nanites, reducing its efficiency while allowing him to stuff his face almost constantly... Needless to say, Bats had been less than impressed by the substantial food cost...

*Ring!*

The joint's door chime draws his eyes, allowing him to spot the arriving man... He matched Judy's description to a T. Dirty well-worn Corpo suit, smooth black hair that'd been doused in hair gel, a thin pimple-speckled face with large glasses covering his eyes, the left lens of which occasionally lit up with holographic information.

He walked with a 'confident' stride, if you could call it that. To Ori it looked like a cowboy with barbwire wrapped around his testicles. His thin physique didn't seem all that intimidating either.

The Fixer looks pauses and looks around the place before spotting Ori and walking over, dropping into the chair opposite him. "Whatup, an acquaintance of mine hit me up, said you need work?"

"Yeah..."

His face brightens, his hand extended for a handshake, "Well, call me Spekchroom! Soon-to-be best Fixer of B.I.G N.C."

. . .

"Are you sure you're the person I'm supposed to see?" Ori questions, who the fuck calls themselves 'Spekchroom' anyway? Besides, what kind of Fixer couldn't afford a proper suit!?

'Spekchroom' quickly nods, "Definitely!... What, you don't like my name?" he grins and taps his glasses, "Spectacles, Spectrum, and Choom, a calculated and cool name!"

...

[Judy! What the fuck is wrong with this guy!?] Ori hurriedly sends a mental text to the person responsible for this situation, all while staying where he was with a neutral expression fixed on his face.

[I told u Ori, sum of these dudes are comp duds. Just take the job he's got, this was the only guy rn who would take noobs ;0;0;0;0] - Judy

[Prepare yourself. There will be hell to pay for this!!!(╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻] - Ori

[Haaave fuuuun ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ] - Judy

Speks snaps his fingers in front of Ori's now-twitching face, "Hey, you still there? You didn't short-circ didja?"

Ori blinks and shakes his head and lets out a sigh, "Just tell me the job..."

"Ah, I can't, not yet, we're still waitin' on the others." Speks states.

"Others...?" Ori parrots, he'd thought this was a solo gig.

The Fixer nods, "Yeah, no offence but I'd rather keep my clients alive, risking it all on one newbie Merc doesn't tend to work out... Trust me..." he says with a sheepish expression.

Ori shuffles uncomfortably as they wait, the Fixer occasionally locking eyes with him as if they were on a date-gone-bad... Thankfully though, the other solos had arrived.

One short guy at 5.6ft wearing a muscle vest that visibly showed his large tattooed pecs and arms. On his back was a heavy-looking LMG that swayed precariously from its strap. He had military-cut hair, a thick beard, and a scarred face... Probably a war vet if Ori had to guess?

The other was a regular-looking guy wearing heavy body armour that covered almost everything, except his mouth which was left open via the faceguard of his helmet. At his sides were two large revolvers that could probably punch holes through steel like nobody's business.

"Yooo!" Speks greets, "Maxxxyyyy!" he says, snatching the vet's hand and shaking it for a moment before the man forcefully retrieves his hand with a light slap.

Shrugging at the hostile action, the Fixer looks to the armoured guy and reaches for his hand too, "Uh, sorry what's your name again...?"

"Six." the man responds with barely a whisper.

"Siixxeeee-HiiK!" Speks squeaks when he feels the man's revolver push against his chin, snapping his mouth closed with an audible *pop*.

"Touch me and I fire 'til it clicks. Get it?"

"Y-yeah!" Speks cautiously steps back before shaking his head and recovering his grin, gesticulating towards the booth Ori was sitting in, "Take a seat, this job's a bit more complicated than the usual."

...

The two men awkwardly shuffle in, the booth not quite big enough for everyone, especially with Six's body armour.

"Wait." 'Max' interjects before Speks could start, he gestures his head at Ori with his lips thinning. "What's with the kid? Forget daycare or somethin'?"

Speks awkwardly chuckles, "Ah-nah, this is a newbie an acquaintance recommended to me. Don't worry about it, this job needs three guys anyhow..." he states, and the trio just stare at him to continue.

Speks retrieves a stack of papers from a briefcase he'd been carrying and tries to lay them out on the table, only to flub the transfer and accidentally scatter them, some falling to the floor and into some uncleaned soda...

Max and Six just sigh at this and help pick them up, as if this was a regular occurrence with Speks...

"Hey, you think we could order some food 'swell? I haven't eaten since yesterday..." Speks adds, only irritating everyone further.