Marvel: Playing Iron Man, Falling In and Out of Love with Jinx

"Sigh, kids really are a handful sometimes."

Duke brushed off Vi's hand from his collar, chewing the last of his malt candy as he walked toward the door.

The moment he opened it, Pride, now in combat mode, had one claw raised, holding up a struggling street punk. Its massive jaws were wide open, unleashing a feral roar.

"Alright, that's enough!"

Duke gently patted the armored plating on Pride's body. "Put them down."

"They're bad guys. They tried to take me away from you, Father! Bad guys!"

A blue light flickered in Pride's eyes as it turned its head to glance at Duke. With a puff of white steam from its vents, it gave another low growl before dropping the two thugs to the ground.

The two troublemakers didn't even dare to utter a word, they scrambled to their feet and bolted from the entrance of the Frogen Tavern.

"Stay right here and behave. I'll take you out to play later."

"Okay!"

With a hiss of gears and whirring metal, Pride transformed back into its motorcycle form. The surrounding crowd couldn't help but gawk in amazement, watching as it effortlessly switched between vehicle and combat robot.

Pride remained parked dutifully in front of the tavern, ignoring the curious stares. Duke, unfazed by the attention, tossed away his candy stick and stepped back into the bar, taking his seat at the counter to chat with Vander.

"So, anything new happening in Zaun lately?"

"Same old, same old, turf wars, betrayal, shady deals. Business as usual."

"If you're looking for something odd, I might have something for you."

A one-eyed man leaned in conspiratorially. Duke waved his hand, and Vander poured him a glass of strong liquor, sliding it across the counter. The man downed half of it in one go and let out a satisfied breath.

Setting the glass down, he braced himself on the bar with one arm and lowered his voice. "There's been some weird stuff going on near the oil tank refinery."

"You talking about those plague rats?"

Vander shot him a reproachful look, clearly annoyed at the mention of what he considered Zaun's urban legends. But Duke just shrugged, showing he didn't mind.

"Go on," Duke said.

"Plague rats are everywhere in Zaun's underbelly, but lately the ones near the refinery... they've been changing. Like... like..."

The one-eyed man faltered, struggling to find the right words.

Duke turned to Vander.

Vander chimed in, "There have been signs of mutations, rat swarms gathering and attacking passersby in organized packs. But hey, you know how Zaun's underworld is. You'll find anything down there. One mutated rat isn't anything worth losing sleep over."

"Still… this might be interesting."

Duke swirled the murky fruit wine in his glass, watching the colors shift. "Maybe one of them awakened a magical affinity."

"That's ridiculous," the one-eyed man scoffed. "A noble mage sharing blood with a plague rat? Come on."

"Well, with enough numbers, even freak mutations can happen." Duke finished the drink in one gulp.

Just then, a young man approached and quietly handed Vander a folded piece of paper before leaving without a word. Vander glanced at it, then slid it over to Duke.

"Here's what you asked for."

"Much appreciated."

Duke tucked the paper away without even reading it. In this line of work, having a local like Vander made everything easier.

"Oh, right," Duke added as he got up to leave. "You should take care of that refinery rat situation. Even a flea, if left alone long enough, can bleed someone dry."

"Got it. I'll handle it."

"See you around."

Hands in his coat pockets, Duke left the tavern and climbed back onto Pride. This time, he didn't take the handlebars, he let Pride drive on its own while he sank into thought.

"Mutated plague rats… could that be Twitch?"

"And that refinery isn't too far from the old canning factory… But Silco's got a tight grip on shimmer production. How would any of it end up in a rat's nest?"

"Something's off."

Duke pulled out the note, scanned the address on it, then crumpled it into a ball and tossed it over his shoulder. The shredded paper scattered in the wind and vanished behind him, just as Pride disappeared around the corner.

Abino Inn.

BOOM!

The roar of an engine shattered the peace outside the small inn built into the stone cliffs. The place, nearly one with the rocky wall, welcomed a special guest.

Duke stood before the three-story structure. The inn's facade blended seamlessly with the mountainside. A nearly-dead tree stood at the entrance, its roots tangled in dry leaves.

"This should be it… the Abino Inn."

Leaving Pride on standby at the door, Duke walked into the dimly lit lobby. Only a single lamp flickered weakly in the gloom. At the front desk slouched a hunched figure.

Knock knock knock.

Duke rapped his knuckles on the counter. A glint of alchemically enhanced green eyes peeked out from under the hood, and the innkeeper croaked, "If you're staying, the rates are on the wall."

Duke glanced over and saw the posted prices, fair enough, at least by Zaun's standards.

"Looks like Nedley's financial situation isn't great."

He turned back to the innkeeper. "I'm not here to stay. I'm looking for someone."

The innkeeper gave Duke a once-over. "Then look quietly. Don't wake the other guests."

With that, the old man lowered his head again, returning to whatever nap he'd been enjoying.

Duke shrugged and made his way up the stairs. It wasn't until the third floor that he stopped, arriving at a room at the far end of the hall. He tried the knob. It was unlocked.

"So careless. Are all Shurimans this trusting?"

He stepped inside. A faint glow came from the embers in a small forge tucked in the corner, barely visible under a layer of ash.

The room was dark, except for a small desk lamp illuminating a figure slumped over the table. Black curls and sun-darkened skin identified the man immediately.

"So this is him. Nedley, Kiham's nephew."

Duke approached and gently shook the man awake.

"Hmm?"

Nedley opened groggy eyes, a crease still imprinted on his cheek from sleeping on his leather bag. He looked up at Duke, confused. "Who are you?"

"Camille Ferros sent me. I'm here to bring you back."

Duke stepped back, raising his hands to show he meant no harm. "You're not Kiham himself, are you?"

"I'm his nephew. Ham Nedley."

"Only one letter off from your uncle. Alright, let's stick with your surname."

"Um…" Nedley rubbed his hands together awkwardly, eyes hopeful. "I'm still a bit short on my room fee…"

"I'll cover it. But first, do you have something for me?"

Duke nodded toward the leather bag. Nedley scratched his head and pulled out a bundle of sketches, handing them over.

"These are my uncle's notes and drawings. He asked me to give them to Lady Camille, they're the last thing he left behind."

Duke flipped through the papers. Most were blueprints of Hextech derivatives, but among them were portraits, sketches of Camille.

In those images, she still looked like a young woman: gentle, bright-eyed, full of life. It seemed that time had never touched her.

Kiham had preserved all of that, in memory, and in art.

"He drew these purely from memory," Nedley explained as he packed up his belongings. Then, nervously, "Um… are you Lady Camille's…?"

"Her son."

"Huh?" Nedley's jaw dropped.

Duke chuckled and clarified, "Adopted son. Not by blood."

"Lady Camille never married. She gave herself to the family."

"If she sees these drawings, I think she'll be very happy."

Nedley's voice held a kind of innocence. But Duke just shook his head. "That's not a given."

ROAR!!

A violent bellow echoed from outside. Duke's hand closed over the sketches and swiftly stored them away in his inventory. He rushed to the window and looked down.

Pride was trapped beneath a massive electrified net, sparking with current. Figures stepped out of the shadows, clad in Ferros family reconnaissance uniforms, weapons raised.

"So Steven couldn't sit still after all…"

End of chapter