Seed 1.1

It was ironic, considering he worked in an auto shop, but Rick did not actually own a car of his own. He could have one if he wanted, of course. He had the license, and he knew enough about how cars worked to keep one in good operating condition. Couldn't get away without knowing that much, working in an auto shop, of course. Thing was, there had come a point where his old car's engine had given out and he'd known enough to know that the replacement parts he'd need for the repairs would be expensive enough that he might as well just buy a new... well, a new used car, and sell the old one for scrap.

So he'd set the matter aside to deliberate on it a few days, and... he'd realized, over the course of them, that he didn't actually need a car for most of his day to day business. Most of the places he regularly went to were somewhere in the range of a ten to fifteen minute walk from his apartment on foot... not something he had aimed for, it had just worked out that way. Not enough time for milk and eggs to get warm after a grocery stop, even. And those places that were further, he only went infrequently enough that he could take a bus.

In the end, he'd lined up the price of gas, and the price of auto insurance, and the other assorted costs of having a car, and after considering that overall the benefit mostly boiled down to him being able to say that he owned one... he'd sold off the broken car and bought a nice bike instead. If he needed to go further than that would take him in short order, like if he were visiting family or going to something in another city, he could always hop on a bus or get a rental for the trip. He was healthier, from being obliged to fit in a little bit of exercise whenever he went somewhere, and with the expenses set aside he was keeping a lot more of his paycheck in his pocket than he was used to.

He didn't mention it, though. Whenever the fact that he didn't own a car came up in conversation these days, it typically got him one of two reactions. Either the person talking to him would have a blank stare of incomprehension, like he'd just said that he'd swapped out his mattress for a really big block of cheese, or they braced themselves in preparation to endure a lecture about going green and social responsibility, building up to demands that they follow suit and sell their own cars.

It was just too much trouble to explain that that wasn't what Rick was about, and it was really about the money, so he just made a point of avoiding the conversation entirely. That being said, his co-workers still gave him no end of shit for being a mechanic that had to pedal his way over to work.

It was nice though. Rick had a special, preferred route that took him through a nearby park. A bit longer, true, but he didn't have to take the sidewalks and get honked at by jackasses the whole way, and could enjoy the greenery. Not so fun in poor weather, but he had a rain coat and there were paved trails most of the way. That was for if he was caught by weather on the way back, though. If it was pouring in the morning, or the weather reports made it obvious that it was going to be raining later on, that was a day to take the bus in to work.

"Hey, Ricky. Having engine trouble?" the boss jeered good naturedly as he pulled to a stop and locked his bike up under an awning. "How many horses you get on that thing again?"

"Enough to get me in to work on time." Rick shot back casually, more or less the same exchange they'd had just about every day since he first came in to work on two wheels instead of four.

"Clock in and get in here to work. We've got a long day of changing oil and checking spark plugs." the boss joked.

"Nothing more serious today, Bobby?" Rick asked. "I know we get a wreck every so often."

The name on his tag read Robert, but the boss nonetheless paused for a moment.

"Well, there's one thing, but... You're going to want to see this yourself. Come back around the garage during your lunch break."

Rick frowned, a little puzzled, but set it aside as he got to work. Still, the question of just what could give the boss pause about a wreck stuck in his mind as he checked engine lights and changed out antifreeze through the morning. Come lunch, he headed around to the garages, where they kept the cars that were going to need more of a tune up than they could do in a few hours, or which were waiting on spare parts to come in. The boss waved him over as he started a door rising up and sliding inside, ducking down beneath it as he stepped in to get the lights.

There was a tarp thrown over the front of a convertible. But it bulged out strangely.

"Let me know what you make of this." Bob said, before whipping the tarp off.

Embedded through the hood of the car, dented inwards, Rick could only stare at the hilt and part of the blade of a gleaming sword. Like something out of Arthurian myth, where those things were found around the place buried in stones.

"Shit, that's gotten punched clear through the engine block. Did it hit the battery?" Rick asked.

"Not sure. Don't touch it with your bare hands, though. Guys that towed it in were swearing up a storm about it. Tarp's rubber, though." Bob replied.

"So, what, did someone run down a Ren faire carnie or some Larpers? ... No, edge on that thing looks real." Rick mused aloud.

"That's what everyone wants to know. Including the cops. Driver called himself in, the way he told it... well, way he told it, there was someone in full-on plate armor in the middle of the road, didn't see him until he was almost right on top of him." Bob explained. "Cops checked him for drinking, since that's a straight road, fairly well lit. Nothing. Way he tells it, he was just suddenly there, a moment or two before impact. Well, 'they'. Says there was another, and they were fighting or something in the middle of the road, but it happened so fast he couldn't make it out."

Rick whistled, long and slow and low.

"Way he tells it, armor guy didn't bounce off right away. Clung for a bit before he got thrown off... says that sword didn't get in there by accident, the guy stabbed it in." Bob continued.

"Just what kind of muscle does he expect us to believe this guy had?" Rick asked.

"Don't know, not my story. Just the way it was told to me. Anyway, he hits the brakes, sword goes in, car swerves and he hits a lamp post. Launches the armor guy off like he was catapulted, air bags go off. Driver dials 911 before he passes out, they get there not long after. No sign of what he saw, so they're obviously skeptical of the story, but..." Bob said, before pausing. "... well hell, sword didn't come out of nowhere, did it? No hospital reports or missing persons cases match up though, apparently, so nobody knows what just happened. I tell you though, Ricky, all kinds of weird things been happening recently. You heard about how someone got a bull or something down in the subway tunnels last night too?"

"Yeah... yeah, heard about that this morning on the news." Rick replied. "So, what are we supposed to do about this?"

"If you're thinking of King Arthuring that thing out of there, don't bother. One of the boys half again your muscles tried with a good set of rubber gloves and boots, nothing doing. It's stuck in there tight. Best guess, going to need to cut the whole thing apart to get it out." Bob assessed. "But for now, we're not doing that. Cops have asked us to keep it as-is for the time being, while they decide whether or not it's evidence of something that they need to do something with, so for now it's just occupying one of our garage stalls that a paying customer could be using."

"Hell, Bobby, you know that these are never full to capacity anyway." Rick replied.

"Don't I know it, more's the pity." Bob replied, shaking his head. "Anyway, get yourself something to eat out of the fridge and get ready to get back to work."

Rick nodded, already thinking about some take-out leftovers that could go right into the microwave. Still... he gave the sword in the engine block one last, confused look before throwing the tarp back over, shutting off the lights, and closing up the door.