Chapter 3

The Eye of Mite’s kitchen was unlike any kitchen in Last Light. It had once been a standard, galley-style kitchen that churned out the usual bar fare, but when Jez bought the saloon she’d retrofitted it to house something special: The Great Mechanized Burger Maker. This machine, referred to simply as “The Mech” by everyone employed there, was a squat, organ-shaped monstrosity that took up more than its fair share of space in the narrow room. Small, flexible pipes jutted out of it from all angles, each one winding its way around the kitchen to connect with custom rigs fitted over the top of previously manned appliances. Each of these rigs performed a task essential to making everything on the saloon’s limited menu, all of which required just a tiny yellow Hyper crystal and a moderately talented spinwheel. 

While Jez hardly let anybody just waltz into her kitchen, those who had seen Jeri work were typically impressed. His manipulation of the Mech’s controls was akin to watching a musical performance, and most people were mesmerized watching him sling thick burgers, orders of crinkle-cut fries, and even a pretty decent milkshake. 

Lees wasn’t most people. She had a much different opinion of the entitled, lazy, good-for-nothing shaper who had no appreciation for what he worked with. Whenever she walked through the kitchen, she cringed at his stilted and jarring process that caused the Mech to rattle, shake, and grind against itself like an angry monster fighting for dominance over nothing. 

Her feelings were not unjustified in her mind, because his work often left the Mech in complete disrepair. Like today. The Hyper-operated Mech sat silently as she worked her way around the kitchen, carefully inspecting each station. The spatula arms jutted out at an unnatural angle and the slicers, dicers, and even the spider-like claws that washed dishes were stiff and retracted.

“Mech’s busted,” Jeri grunted. He didn’t even lift his head from where he lounged in the hammock he’d strung up on the bar-side of the kitchen. Lees wrinkled her nose at his dirty boots that dangled over the produce washing station.

“That’s what I heard,” Lees replied. “What happened?”

“Dunno. That’s your job,” He said. Something rustled, and Lees saw he was paging through a newspaper. She looked around at the half-sliced burger buns laying on the counter between spilled curlicues of condiments that hadn’t quite hit their target. 

This asshole didn’t even clean up after the Mech shut down, she thought with disgust. But it wasn’t a surprise – Jeri had long ago made it clear he wasn’t interested in lifting a finger to fix any of the problems he created. 

Lees flattened her body against the counter to fit around the hammock so she could reach the machine’s main board, making sure to jostle the addition and its occupant as much as possible.

“Please, don’t get up, I wouldn’t want to interrupt your important work,” Lees grumbled.

“Can’t do my job until you do yours,” Jeri shot back with a flip of the page. Lees rolled her eyes.

“Could you pretend to care for once?” Lees muttered under her breath. She opened up the main hatch and started inspecting the gears.

“What was that?” Jeri asked shifting in his hammock to get a better look at Lees.

“Nothing,” Lees’ eyes slipped out of focus as she reached into the Mech, mentally visualizing its innards as her hand skipped along the gears, connecting wires, and other Mechanical components. She leaned forward to reach her hand deeper and felt what seemed to be a large rod out of place. Her fingers touched each rod as she counted, noting the space where the slipped one should have gone. “Ahh, did it shut down while you were working that fryer?

“Sounds about right,” Jeri mused.

Lees sighed and guided the rod back into position. Once realigned, it smoothly slid into its housing and came to rest on a worn but functional gasket.

“Even though you use Hyper to control the different stations, there are still dependencies between them that work in tandem to your shaping,” Lees lectured as she remounted the panel and began tracing the pipes over to the fryers.

“So you fixed it?” Jeri asked, sounding almost as if he genuinely cared.

“Not yet— you probably caused a bigger issue—” Lees trailed off to focus on detaching the arm mounted above the fryers. She looked down into the now cooled oil and saw a mound of shaved roots that would never become crispy fries.

She slowly lowered the heavier-than-she-remembered arm onto a metal tabletop and then peered into the guts of the mounting box. Lees couldn’t help but admire the craftsmanship. As much as she despised being around Jeri and his handiwork, she was happy to put up with him to spend time around this Mech. Every time she worked on a new section of the Mech – which was often, as Jeri was creative in how he mishandled and abused the machine – she came across something that blew her away. Lees didn’t know what the Mech was supposed to look like straight out of the factory, because nobody down here could actually afford a company-manufactured one. Teeg has basically built the entire machine custom, and by now Lees could recognize his style in the gears and tubing. 

It was so intricate, with so much machinery compensating for the shaper in control. Lees wanted to toss this jab back at Jeri, but thought better of it. Who was she to insult a shaper? 

“There it is!” Lees said triumphantly. She spotted a small sheared bolt that triggered a joining gear to fly loose and lodge itself against Jeri’s Hyper, which was threaded through the machine. Without thinking, Lees reached out to touch the soft yellow strand before jerking her hand back, a small tremor of fear racing down her back as she did – never lose your focus around Hyper, she chided herself. She glanced over at Jeri, but he was lounging back with the newspaper draped over his face and both legs hanging lazily out of the hammock. She wasn’t in danger of him activating it while her hand was in the way. He wasn’t a concern at the moment. 

The problem now located, Lees moved quickly. She pulled a small screwdriver from her belt and gently pried at the gear until it popped loose in her hand. Since Jeri was half asleep and not shaping it, the yellow thread of Hyper remained still. She set the gear back in place and grabbed the right sized fastener to mount it once more, mumbling triumphantly, “Now it’s fixed.”

An unmistakable surge of pride glowed in her chest. The Mech wasn’t always so easy to fix, and there weren’t many opportunities for Lees to feel proud down in the mines, so she tried to savor the feeling as she hulked the large arm back into place.

She had just hopped down from the tabletop and was beginning to wipe her greasy hands on her pants when she heard the bar doors slam open. Seconds later, one of the enormous men from earlier came flying backwards into the kitchen directly into Jeri and his stupid hammock. Their angry shouts bounced around the tiny room as the two rolled over one another and the hammock flipped and dumped them to the ground. 

Lees barely had time to finish laughing at the sight before the rest of them rushed through the door into the now cramped kitchen. 

First came the snobby boy, who was also shouting while trying to avoid being trampled by the group behind him. His pristine shirt was wrinkled around the collar as if he'd been grabbed. Then came the boy’s bodyguard, backing into the kitchen with both of his dinner-plate-sized hands around the neck of another man, one of the drunks that had followed the pair here. The man was clawing at his hands, but this was not a fight he was winning. The cutlass’ face was eerily calm as he pressed his thumbs into the man’s windpipe. 

Finally, the last man from the group barreled through the doors, loudly slurring something unintelligible with his hands balled into fists. He was closely followed by Jez, Midge, and at least half a dozen other patrons who looked eager for a fight with the outsiders. Erish swayed toward the back, his reddened face half-hidden behind the bottle he was slugging from.  

Guess this is Jez ‘taking care of the situation’, Lees thought as she pressed herself against the counter near the Mech to avoid the melee. 

In seconds, the fight had spread to fill the kitchen. Eye of Mite patrons and outsiders seemed to be indiscriminately throwing punches and taking up anything they could grab – forks, pots, rolling pins. One of the drunker patrons who was clearly just looking for a good time began shoving stale burger buns into his mouth while kicking anyone who got close. 

Classic mine town fight, Lees griped. She pulled herself up onto the countertop at the back of the room just before Midge slammed a patron against the wall where she had just been standing. 

Jeri staggered to his feet and pulled a crushed cigarette from his mouth. He spit tobacco out onto the floor as he spoke, “That was my last Merric, you asshole!” He leapt onto the Mech’s console, trying to get above the fight.

The hulking bodyguard threw one of the assailants across the room and into three other patrons, scattering them like bowling pins. It was impossible to hear anything over the cacophony of shouting and wet sounds of fists connecting with skin. Their shouts rose to a fever pitch as two more people charged the cutlass. 

Lees scanned the room for Jez, who looked visibly fed up with the situation. The saloon owner leapt onto a table near the center of the kitchen, grabbed a pipe that ran parallel across the ceiling, and used it to swing around and land a staggering kick on a man who was wrestling Midge to the ground. Her foot connected with the side of his head, and he fell into a heap on the ground. Jez hopped down, sprinted toward the bodyguard whose attention was elsewhere, and clotheslined him. 

“Hoo!” Lees gasped, her eyes going wide at seeing Jez move so quickly. She knew the woman could fight, had seen her in scrapes at the saloon before, but this was a whole new level. 

Jeri let out a maniacal cackle, drawing Lees’ attention. He had scrambled into position at the Mech and was looking at her with an unsettling grin. 

“Let’s fire it up!” Jeri shouted. He threw open the console, reached down, and yanked hard on the yellow Hyper. The strand stretched like gum and twisted in his hands. Lees was powerless to do anything except watch the saloon’s cook-turned-fighter stand high on his marionette instrument and shout, “Eat shit, dirt bags!” 

And the kitchen flared to life. 

Plates, utensils, food, and condiments soared through the air and crashed every which way, throwing the fighting into a mob of chaos as people slammed into each other to avoid the assault. Lees couldn’t tell which was louder, the shouts from the fight or the Mech screeching to life, desperately trying to perform its assigned tasks as its operator forced it to fight instead.

“Jeri! What are you doing!?” Jez shouted as a robotic arm swung right past her head and slammed into the drunk who had her in a chokehold.

“Saving your ass like always boss!” He responded in a sing-song voice.

A sort of undignified yelp drew Lees’ attention away from the Mech’s crazed dance. One of the drunken fighters, now covered in salad dressing and burger toppings, was chasing the snobby boy around the kitchen trying to grab him. As frail as he appeared, the boy gracefully wormed his way through all the body-tackling and madness, throwing anything he could grab at his pursuer. Though it kept him a step ahead, the pursuer knocked away each item thrown at him with ease, forcing the boy to keep scurrying around the cramped room until he ended up right in front of Lees. He spun around and grabbed a knife from the magnetic strip on the wall and turned to face his assailant. 

“You rich brat, think yer better’n us? Should’ve just given us what we asked,” The man sneered. It was the same man the pair had encountered earlier. Lees watched the boy’s face curiously. Whatever fear had been there before was gone. He looked more like a cornered animal ready to retaliate, and she wanted to be nowhere near these two when he did. The only problem, they were blocking her exit. 

Lees looked over and realized a control panel was still open. A small bit of yellow Hyper was exposed, the part that traveled up into the robotic arm she’d repaired earlier. She took a breath, concerned for her fingers, then quickly reached inside and yanked the single strand of Hyper. Like a muscle, the heavy robotic arm contracted and swung around, cracking the man in the back of head. He toppled to the ground with a thud.

The boy whipped around and blinked at Lees, as if he hadn’t seen her until that moment. 

“Thanks,” He said, sounding genuinely appreciative. 

Lees ignored him to look around the kitchen again. The fighting was getting more desperate and violent as people dodged – or tried to dodge – the Mech’s deadly parts between punches. Jeri seemed unfazed as he danced atop the console positively beaming. If he had felt her tug on the Hyper, he either didn’t care or hadn’t realized it was her. The man twisted Hyper between his fingers like a puppet master, making the entire room move and dance to his whims. Lees had never seen him this happy while cooking. 

The bodyguard reemerged, barreling past Jeri like a charging bull. He somehow had two people in a headlock, one under each arm. In a swift motion, he whipped both people forward and let go. The momentum carried the two towards Jez. 

The saloon owner noticed just in time and gracefully leapt over the flailing bodies. They crashed into the wall behind her, knocking a few metal bowls off the shelf high above. With catlike grace, Jez climbed another counter and grabbed a skillet, spinning it in her hand before pointing it at the bodyguard. 

“Alright big guy, that’s enough. You ready to cool down?” She said. 

“Not happening. I’m simply ending this,” The cutlass bodyguard replied flatly. 

“Then I guess you’re a problem,” Jez said. 

“Guess so.” 

Jez swung the skillet hard at his head. The man ducked, blocked the follow-up strike with one arm, then grabbed Jez’s ankle with the other and yanked. Suddenly off balance, Jez’s entire body dropped and smacked against the cold steel counter. Lees could hear the breath gasping out of her lungs. Without missing a beat, the bodyguard brought down his other arm right on top of her – but his forearm only made contact with the table’s surface. Jez had rolled to the side, spinning over the arm that still held her ankle and kicking toward his face. Her foot landed with a thud, as the bodyguard let go and staggered backwards. 

Lees was already on the move. She raced across the room and, without considering the consequences, leapt onto the man’s back. She was significantly smaller than him but still managed to yank him backwards by the neck. The two spun around the kitchen as the man tried to throw her off his back until he slammed her against a shelf full of produce that came tumbling down around them.

“My cabbages!” Jeri shouted. He sent one of the tracked arms speeding towards the bodyguard’s gut. Lees let go and rolled to the side just in time to avoid the arm, but her opponent wasn’t fast enough. 

Jez gave a wave of thanks to Lees and stuck out her leg to trip a patron who was careening across the room swinging a sack of roots. 

In the short time Lees had left the boy, he managed to get snagged by one of the drunks. The boy flailed and kicked wildly against the man who crushed him within his grip. The man’s teeth were bared triumphantly as he flexed his arms around the boy, too distracted to notice the dishwasher’s gangly arms rising up behind him like a spider in prey. As the arms lashed out and latched onto his body, neck, and limbs, the man dropped the boy. The Mech pulled the struggling man into the sprayer box, which began shooting out pressurized water in all directions. 

The boy raced across the room toward the barside door – the only exit not blocked by brawling patrons – but was intercepted by Midge. She spit blood as she wiped her face with a dish towel, “Where do you think you’re going?”

The boy gritted his teeth. “We didn’t start this,” He growled.

“Too bad. No one leaves till someone pays for all these broken bottles,” She stared him in the eye as she reached out to grab a bottle with her free hand and shattered it against the fridge, pointing the sharp end toward him.

Midge advanced on him. The boy scuttled backwards and into the corner next to his downed bodyguard, two of the drunken man’s friends, and a handful of patrons Jez and Lees had finally subdued.

With that, as chaotically as it had begun, the kitchen brawl clattered to a messy halt. A single plate rattled to a stop on the tile floor and then an eerie silence fell upon the room. 

Those who were still conscious stared at each other, nobody quite sure what to do. That is, until a cacophony of chipper whistles and deep-voiced yelling erupted from both doors. A swath of local force poured in until every spare inch of the kitchen was occupied. Green uniformed men and women grabbed people indiscriminately, pulling them apart and pressing them into separate corners while snapping commands. 

Seconds later, the town chief hurried into the room still hastily buttoning up his shirt and stuffing his tie into his back pocket. 

“Break it up! This fight is over!” He shouted. The mass of motionless patrons and instigators stared at the man in confusion, but he didn’t notice. He made a beeline for Jez, who tucked her hair behind her ear before placing a soft hand on his chest. 

“Thank you for your help, Marshall,” She cooed. The man’s cheeks reddened and he pushed his chest forward slightly. 

“Uh, well of course, Jez! Of course, happy to step in to keep you safe,” He stammered. 

“First round’s on the house. We’ll make sure every one of you gets a few drinks tonight for your hard work,” She smiled softly, leaned in close, and finished buttoning his shirt. “And of course, your room is on me.” 

Lees’ ears burned. She could practically see the steam pouring off the man’s balding head. 

“They didn’t even do anything,” She scoffed. 

“What was that?” The chief barked, reluctantly turning away from Jez’s won attention. Lees glared back at him. “You’re supposed to be at the mine about now, aren’t you?” 

“No,” Lees argued. “I already worked–”

“She was, sir!” The snobby boy suddenly piped up, affecting a lilting and stuttering tone. Lees stared at him as if he had transformed into a different person. “I’m - I’m new here… and, and I was supposed to report to mine call.” 

“Are you ditching work…Mite?” The chief glowered at her, squaring his shoulders and facing her fully now. 

A deputy interrupted by calling over, “Chief, this big guy’s hurt pretty bad.”

Jez tried to step in, but the chief shushed her. 

“Get to mine-call now,” He growled at Lees. “And take this kid with you.” 

Lees wasn’t scared of the chief, even less so in a room full of people, but she knew the conversation was over. 

The deputy shoved Lees and the boy out the back door, keeping a firm hand on their lower backs as if to keep them from running away. Lees stole one last look behind her. Jez winced and mouthed, ‘sorry,’ before turning back to thank the local force for their bravery. The chief began barking orders to arrest the drunks and get the bodyguard to the doctor. 

Lees snapped her head back to glare at the boy, hoping to pour as much hatred and disgust into the look as possible. But where she expected to see fear, anger, maybe even anxious relief at not being arrested – she saw… hunger. The boy’s eyes slid to the side to connect with hers, and he raised an eyebrow, his lips pulling back into what could only be described as a smile.