OP Absorption
Chapter 37: Gift

Chapter 37: Gift

"WOOOOOHOOOOOO!" Meg screamed, wind whipping through her purple hair as Fin expertly navigated the city streets.

"This is awesome! When did you even learn to drive? And get a license? And this car!" She patted the dashboard of the sleek, dark vehicle. "Seriously, Fin, it’s only been a week!"

Fin grinned, keeping his eyes on the road but enjoying her excitement. "Hunter benefits," he said simply, a hint of pride in his voice. "Things move faster when the Guild wants them to."

She leaned back in the plush seat, still buzzing. "Faster? You went from never touching a wheel to licensed driver in seven days! That’s not fast, that’s insane!"

"Just glad you’re enjoying the ride," he chuckled. He steered the car away from the city center, the buildings gradually becoming less polished, the streets showing more wear.

The familiar grey sprawl of the slums appeared on the horizon.

"Wait," she said, her excitement dimming slightly as she recognized their direction. "We’re going back there? Why?"

His grin softened into a more thoughtful expression. "Need to see someone. Greg."

"Greg? Your old boss? The sweaty scrap king who ditched you when that monster showed up?" She frowned. "What do you owe that jerk?"

"He wasn’t great," he admitted, slowing the car as they entered the familiar broken streets. "And yeah, he was greedy. But... he still paid me. That kept us fed, kept the lights on, even if barely. It’s because of that job I was even out there when... when everything changed."

He sighed. "He helped me survive back then, in his own messed-up way. Feels wrong not to... I don’t know, acknowledge it? Maybe help him out a little now that I can."

She looked at him, her expression softening. "Okay," she said quietly. "Okay, I get it. Just don’t let him guilt you into hauling scrap again."

Fin laughed. "No promises." He pulled the car to a stop near the edge of the sprawling scrap heap, the contrast between the pristine vehicle and the decaying surroundings stark.

"Won’t be long."

He stepped out of the car, looking so out of place with all the expensive things he wore. Greg was near the battered truck, wrestling with a heavy piece of twisted steel, sweat already plastering his thinning hair to his forehead.

He looked up, squinting as Fin approached, then did a double-take when he saw the car parked nearby.

"Fin? What the hell are you doing back here?" He dropped the metal with a clang, wiping his sweaty brow with an equally sweaty arm. His eyes flicked between Fin’s clean clothes and the expensive car. "And what’s with the getup? Rob a bank?"

Fin offered a small smile. "Something like that. Just came to see you, Greg."

Greg eyed him suspiciously. "Yeah? Why? Changed your mind about hauling scrap?" He gestured vaguely. "Could use the help, actually. This load’s heavier than it looks."

"Not here to work," he said, reaching into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a thick envelope. "I wanted to give you this." He held it out.

Greg stared at the envelope, then back at Fin. "What is it?"

"Open it."

Warily, Greg took the envelope. His thick fingers fumbled with the seal before pulling out the stack of credits. His eyes widened, then widened again as he counted. Fifty thousand credits.

His jaw went slack.

"Fifty... Fin, this is... holy crap, kid!" Tears welled up in his eyes, genuine shock and gratitude flooding his face.

"I... I don’t know what to say! This is more money than I’ve seen in my life! Thank you! Seriously, thank you!" He grabbed Fin’s hand, shaking it vigorously. "I knew you had it in ya! Knew you weren’t just some slum rat!"

Fin pulled his hand back gently. "Just wanted to thank you. For the job back then. It helped."

"Helped? Kid, this changes everything!" He clutched the envelope like a lifeline. But as he looked from the money to Fin’s clean clothes, a different kind of calculation flickered in his eyes.

The initial gratitude began to curdle into something else. ’Fifty thousand is a lot,’ he thought, ’but this kid’s clearly loaded now. Look at that car! He owes me more than this. I practically raised him out here...’

"You know, Fin," he started, his voice taking on a slightly whiny tone, "this is great, really great. But times have been tough, real tough since you left. The scrap market’s down, monsters keep getting closer... It’s hard for an old guy like me to keep afloat." He sighed dramatically. "Fifty thousand... it helps, sure, but it won’t last long with all the debts..."

Fin’s smile tightened slightly. "Glad it helps. That’s why I brought it." He started to turn back toward the car.

"Wait, wait!" Greg stepped closer, blocking his path slightly. "Thing is, kid, you gotta remember all I did for you. Took you in when no one else would, gave you work, kept you safe... This fifty grand, it’s nice, but considering everything..." He trailed off, looking pointedly at Fin’s expensive jacket. "Maybe you could spare a little more? For old times’ sake? Help an old friend out?"

Fin stopped, turning back fully. He kept his expression neutral. "I gave you what I thought was fair. For the job."

"Fair?" Greg scoffed, emboldened by Fin’s calm demeanor. "Kid, I practically saved your life out here! You were skin and bones! Think about it! A little extra, maybe another fifty? What’s that to a big-shot Hunter like you, huh? Probably pocket change!" He nudged Fin’s arm playfully, but his eyes were greedy. "Come on, don’t be stingy."

That was the wrong thing to say.

Something in Fin shifted.

The easy-going slum kid vanished, replaced by the Hunter who had faced down monsters and stared death in the eye. The air around him grew heavy, charged with an unseen energy. Greg felt a sudden, prickling pressure, like standing too close to lightning.

Fin didn’t raise his voice, but his tone dropped, becoming flat and cold, laced with an authority that sent shivers down Greg’s spine. A faint, barely visible aura flickered around him, pressing down on Greg, making it hard to breathe.

"I paid you back for the work," he said, his eyes suddenly sharp, cutting right through the older man’s bluster. The pressure intensified.

Greg instinctively took a step back, sweat beading on his forehead for entirely different reasons now.

"Know your place," his voice was a low growl, heavy with power Greg couldn’t comprehend. He felt like a rat pinned under a boot. "You fat pig."

The aura flared for a fraction of a second, and Greg stumbled backward, tripping over a piece of scrap metal and landing hard on his backside in the dirt. He stared up at Fin, his face pale, eyes wide with terror.

The greed was gone, replaced by pure, unadulterated fear. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move.

Fin simply looked down at him for a moment, his expression unreadable, then turned without another word and walked back to the car, leaving Greg trembling in the dust, clutching the envelope of credits that now felt like burning coals in his hand.