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a reason. Hark needed to figure it out right away. “Do tell.”
    “I trained in Tae Kwon Do—”
    “—which would probably get you killed in a fight. What else?”
    Frankie glanced back and forth between them, as if considering whether to speak. He straightened himself, chin up. “All right. I’m a level sixty-one Knight Mage in Dungeons of Tor . Pwnage is my art form. They have blogs about me.”
    Hark smiled at the little man, seeing the kind of fire that would make him a fine principal secondary character. Whatever drama within drama was being rendered here, Frankie had a part carved out for him to play.
    “Good for you.”
    “Pwnage?” Celia said.
    “Pure ownage,” Hark said. “Our boy, Frankie here, has some cybernetic skills.”
    He watched Celia furrow her brow—still in shock and barely able to comprehend what was happening to her. Hark had nothing to help her yet, so he kept her thinking he was her bodyguard. Frankie, though … Hark knew exactly what he could do with him.
    “Video games do require a … certain mindset,” Hark said. “Here’s the thing, Frankie. I need to hire you for an important job. What do you make a month delivering pizzas?”
    “About two grand.”
    “That’s 24K a year.”
    “Give or take.”
    “You stick with me for the next few days; I’ll pay you fifty thousand US dollars.”
    Celia’s head popped up. “What?”
    Frankie smirked, as if he were being tricked. “Whatever. Where’s my three hundred for getting the bag.”
    “Ma’am, please pay the young man. We need his help. I saw the cash in your purse.” She stared at the clutch that was still on her arm. “Go ahead.”
    She opened and withdrew several hundred dollars. She fanned them out.
    Hark nodded toward the money.
    Frankie inched his way over and withdrew three one-hundred dollar bills.
    “Fifty thousand, Frankie, for a few days’ work—maybe a week or so, I’m guessing.”
    Frankie stuffed the money in his pocket. “You’re serious?”
    “As serious as I can be.”
    “Why me?”
    “You got the kind of skills I’m looking for.”
    “Let me see the money.”
    Hark paused. He stared at these two strangers whose world was about to be turned upside down. He’d hoped to do this later, but he withdrew his Assembler Kit from the paper bag. It was a simple rectangular box of dark, composite metal with a glass readout on the front. Not a single seam or rivet. He placed his palm on it, and the device activated.
    “Oh well,” Hark said. “You might as well see what you’re dealing with.”
    “What the horn dog is that?” Frankie asked. “A battery?”
    “Now listen,” Hark said. “This is top-secret government hardware. No mention of this to anyone.” He leaned over the device. “Two-hundred and fifty one-hundred US dollar bills.”
    A beam of pulsing azure light punched out of the side of the fabricator. It reached the floor as if searching there. It found an empty wooden chair, then moved to the upholstery. It began to eat away at it in rapid time, as if erasing it. The material disappeared in seconds. The light then moved to the floor and fanned back and forth. A minute later, stacks of bills began appearing, at first just etched objects, the light passing in rapid, modulating waves with such speed the eye had trouble seeing the bills become whole.
    “That is some freaky hardware,” Frankie said. “Those real?”
    “How do you think they make money these days?” The light stopped as the last bill fabricated, the lie convincing Frankie. “Half now, half later.”
    Frankie scooped them up, a banana grin stretching from ear to ear.
    Hark returned the assembler to the bag.
    “What do I have to do?” Frankie asked.
    Hark patted him on the back. “I thought so. I could use a change of clothes. A pair of sturdy pants, a long-sleeved shirt. Pick up a light sports jacket and a pair of boots. I also need a small back-pack for my gear.”
    “You got it, man. I’m on it.” Frankie