The bandits' car had no engine humming at all, which answered one of the questions, "how they managed to sneak up unnoticed". But there were still a lot of questions, and the biggest one was -

  - What the fuck? - I said indignantly.

  - Think of it as a convenient opportunity to get rid of Claptrap, - Jim said. There are some questions for him, too, especially about the unspoken part of his ambush plan, but first things first.

  - It's one thing to get rid of it yourself, and quite another to be robbed! - While maintaining my indignation, I said. - It's a useless robot, but it's my useless robot.

  - Reasonable - Jim agreed.- Well, you'll have a chance to get even and maybe get it back. I know where they're taking him, we're going that way anyway, and now there's transportation... And by the way. Here.

  "Received an incoming message with an attached archive," said the ECHO. The archive was passwordless, and contained a machine gun - well, or assault rifle, according to the local classification. Just the weapon I have the most ammo for.

  - Now we're equipped and ready to go, - continued my temporary partner.

  - Still not enough ammo - I said. - And grenades wouldn't hurt.

  - We'll take trophies - Jim said. - Can you work on the car?

  - Hmm... - I said. - I'll see what I can do.

  The promotion after the battle - and probably the completion of the task - gave me another skill point. With a slight grin, I sent it to "Technical Competency" as well. Situationally more profitable, and in the long run not a stupid investment. Although it is unpleasant to be left without a first aid kit.

  Huh. This set of memories was less... bitchy. Just... a hands-on course, I guess.

  And now I can fix coffee makers. And even assemble them out of junk.

  Useful, definitely.

  Finish digesting my new knowledge (there really was a lot of useful stuff in there), I opened the letter.

  "It's me again, your favorite Gamemaster, aka the Almighty Bastard (I still don't need to defecate). Normally at level five you'd only have to unlock an active skill, so appreciate the generosity! Not only two extra skill points, but, ta-da! with this letter unlocks the quest log (no automatic markers on the map, haven't earned it yet). P.S. It's up to you, of course, but I'd recommend saving Claptrap. Unless you want to get stuck on Pandora."

  Hmm. A very opaque hint, though I can't imagine what this useless and mass-produced robot could be so important. It could be trolling, but I'd rather not take that chance.

  All right, then. I'll get to work.

  The turret on this buggy was a lot different than a handheld weapon. It's just an electromagnetic gun, a gauss gun. "Just" because handguns are actually much more complicated. On the other hand, the old issue came up again: unlike the handheld, this turret reloaded automatically.

  My new skill allowed me to tweak this weapon a bit, but not much (although the power was slightly increased, as well as reliability). The armor was much more substantial.

  Really serious armor, to which my heart lay, the small engine of the "courier", as this machine was called, would not pull if it was made of available materials, but at least something could be done. In its current form, the passengers - in the sense of driver and gunner - had almost no protection; the structure consisted mostly of pipes. Collect scrap metal, digitally build plates from it, attach them in the right places, check the stock of raw materials for digital building bullets... Jim was right, there was plenty to do, and it seriously increased our available firepower, even considering that the bandits had similar vehicles. I guess that's where my "class" could show itself. If I had a higher "level"... Well, it is what it is.

  - Finished? - Jim asked. He's got a shield - and apparently a more powerful one than mine - and a gun. I'm guessing he still has at least a sniper in his ECHO. And it was all a bit tense; if anything, it's going to be harder to deal with him. I think we should stay close to the car - its turret is quite powerful. The other thing is that he realizes it too.

  - As far as it is possible now - I answered. - Even the material is almost no left, but i did what I could. At least, we won't be afraid of a stray bullet.

  By the way, here's a question: why doesn't the machine have its own shield? It's just weird.

  Slippery explained the situation and the plan while I was tuning. The bandits we're dealing with are members of a gang called Don Quail. Their base is in an abandoned outpost of the Dahl Corporation; they had a fight with Atlas a couple years ago, then both were attacked by bandits, and eventually they got the outpost and all its contents.

  - But because the bandits are stupid, - Jim reported, as something on the level of "air is transparent," - they don't know about everything in the captured buildings. They never found the secret armory, they only looted the regular warehouse. Plus Dahl was starting to build a small subway there; apparently they didn't get there in time, but the service tunnel is in place and can be used to sneak into the outpost unnoticed.

  - Hmm. You know a lot, - I remarked.

  - Well, I was a bit involved in those events - said the adventurer sitting behind the wheel. - Hyperion loves and knows how to pit opponents against each other, and they knows how to gather information too. If Pandora will eventually belong to someone, it will be either them or the skags. The skags, of course, is better.

  In theory, stealthy infiltration is best done at night. In practice, because of my night vision and the sleep cycle of the local inhabitants, the time of day didn't matter. Plus the fact that I feared for Claptrap - if I were the bandit, I'd probably shoot him almost immediately after opening the box.

  In the end, we set off as we were. I did take care of the disguise, though; the hum of the engine was muffled, and Slippery and I wore the masks that the local bandits liked. The point is not to hide your face, but to keep your face from standing out.

  It worked. One time we came across a bandit buggy, however they ignored us.

  The terrain quickly became more and more bumpy and hilly; then we began to see the remains of buildings of some kind.

  - There were farmers here when Dahl was here, - Slippery explained. - Now it's bandits, and so on.

  - Coprorations are a good fertilizer for growth, - I said. - Except that all sorts of things fly on it.

  - That's a good point, Jim agreed. - Coprorations, heh... And in the end it's the adventurers who reap the harvest.

  - I guess so.

  The bandit's lair was housed in a building on a hill that was visible from afar, still generally white, though the current occupants had covered the walls with graffiti, and you could see soot stains even from a distance. Our path, however, lay to one of the ruins scattered around.

  At first glance, it was just a pile of rocks with a lonely wall standing alone. Jim, however, after critically examining what was available, began carefully pulling out the stones. In spite of his lack of large muscles, he lifted the large stones without noticeable effort. Gradually, a passage was formed among the stones; looking at me, he removed a few more stones.

  Behind the narrow passage was a narrow tunnel with concrete walls, lit by the dim red lights of the "eternal illumination" on the walls. It was cool here, but after the heat upstairs it was even pleasant.

  I wasn't going to relax, though. Even Jim had to be wary, and there were bandits here.

  - Grr!

  I reacted ahead of my thoughts to a low growl from somewhere to the side. My hand raised a reliable weapon... No, not a trained shotgun.

  I swung the shovel, slicing open the jaws of a skag leaping from a niche in the wall. The small carcass fell to the floor, bleeding.

  - I feel a little awkward, - I muttered, looking at the collar and bow around the beast's neck.

  - Vladoff's still keeps traditions? - Jim chuckled, glancing down at the shovel. - Yeah, that was awkward with the pet. He didn't raise any alarms, but we'd better hurry before the owner misses us.

  Some pipes, some still-working equipment... It's an interesting level of technology in this world. It looks pretty primitive, but it's actually quite advanced, and can run without maintenance for a very long time.

  Jim glanced occasionally at the holographic map projected by his ECHO; he didn't seem to have 'augmented reality', or rather it was more limited. At one point he stopped and kicked the wall.

  - That'll do. Your exit.

  We talked about infiltration options beforehand, and eventually settled on using my skills; even at my current level, my class gave enough options and tools.

  Activating the right license. A couple of seconds, and a drill appeared in my hand, which began to make holes in the wall with a quiet hum. A hole, another hole, another... A rectangle about two meters high made of drilled holes.

  Then the drill disappeared, and in Jim's hand appeared a grenade from Malwan, with characteristic green stripes, which he handed to me.

  Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  - Now we'd better get back - I said already on the run.

  The technology of matter digitization has its own set of limitations, otherwise it would have been used instead of weapons long ago. Area of influence, speed, and so on and so forth... Just to take and digitize a piece of solid wall is not that impossible, but with the power of ECHO it would take probably twenty-four hours, and well if not Pandorian. But if you first split the stone into separate fragments, and partially dissolve it all... The explosion would raise the alarm, but the corrosive grenade works almost silently. And the multiple drill holes have a greater effect.

  I have no idea how the local "elemental" weapons fundamentally work, but it's possible to use them.

  The walls were thick, and one grenade wasn't enough. Fortunately, Jim's ECHO had four of them, so in the end they even had some left.

  The first thing I saw on the other side of the wall was a huge, three meters high, door made of an incomprehensible material. It looked like metal, but it wasn't... The light gray surface was stained, but it was still smooth. But the bare walls around it were quite shabby and covered with drawings and inscriptions. With a lots of grammatical errors.

  There was also a staircase leading upstairs. And that was it.

  Jim went to the door, glanced around, and grimaced.

  - Shit. No power, those stupid thugs broke something after all. - He glanced at the schematic that appeared above his ECHO. - We need to start the backup generator. Without power, the door can't be opened. There's a problem, though - it's in the main building, so there's no way to run it unnoticed, most likely.

  He bit his lower lip and tapped his finger on the ECHO.

  - Hmm. Here's an idea. Why not turn this problem into an opportunity?

  I frowned.

  - What do you mean?

  - We've got an armory - he jabbed a finger toward a large door - a straight, well-shot passageway - a poke toward the stairs - lots of bandits, and turrets. As I recall from my time working for Vladoff, your turrets are completely digital, no unique core? You could build as many as you wanted, as long as you had the materials? - I nodded. - Here we go. You prepare the firepower, I'll lure the dead to it. And cover the rear. Maybe.

  I didn't like his "maybe," but it seemed like a reasonable plan. There were two things... First, I only had infinite ammo for one turret. I could copy Vladoff's ammunition digitalization module, but there was a risk that my machinations would be detected in the warehouse. However, the armory should have a good stock of ammo blocks, so it's solvable. But the second thing...

  - Grenades could be a problem, - I grimaced. - And even worse if they have grenade launchers. I could set up a few echelons, - I jabbed my thumb in the direction of the passage we'd come from, - but there's a good chance they'd all be wrecked and we'd lose the loot. My turrets are pretty flimsy.

  Oh, yeah. Also the realization of Vladoff's ideas - we take quantity, not quality. Although with the increase of "Technical Competency" skill the situation improved a bit, but my DUMB turrets were still flimsy: there are no quality materials, the frame is made of ordinary iron rebar. They should have shields...

  - I'm willing to go for it - Jim chuckled. - Destroying the bandits is a good thing in itself, plus, knowing Dahl, there'll be more than just guns in the armory. When I start the generator, I'll transmit the code to the door on your ECHO. Put me on a live feed so I can check out exactly what was there for the booty split on the results. In fact, I'm hoping to get a full sweep of the place. Don Quail owes me a debt, and I intend to collect it....

  - If that's the case, I'm all for it," I nodded. I still need to get Claptrap back... I hope he hasn't been irreversibly destroyed.

  I started setting up the turrets as soon as Jim slid silently up the stairs. The weapons I have are mediocre, but one of Vladoff's slogans is "Quantity goes to quality". It's true, there's no point in building too many, and I don't have enough materials... And I have a limited number of guns.

  I decided to keep Jim's assault rifle and Ozhogov's fire pistol. The rest of the stuff went to work.

  Suddenly lights flashed on the door and on the wall beside it; and then, a few seconds apart, two things happened.

  "You have a new message," announced the ECHO.

  A siren sounded through the building.

  "Set up as much as you can and wait for guests. The key is in the appendix."

  I wouldn't have been surprised if the key had turned out to be a real key, digitally constructed according to the diagram sent, but it turned out to be electronic nonetheless. The door began to open with a quiet hum, revealing bins, racks, and cabinets... actually, much smaller than I would have liked.

  Whatever. As agreed, I turned on the live feed and recording, and hurriedly set about cleaning out the vault. Most of everything go into my ECHO, some ammo into the turrets.

  ...Shit. Some of the containers were locked. Nothing significant, I could probably open if I had the time, but there was a problem with it.

  - Hey, idiots! - Jim's voice came from the loudspeakers from somewhere above, from behind the walls, but it was clearly audible. - It's me, Slippery Jim, and I've come to retrieve the treasure that's been under your noses, you idiots. I'm gonna tell you twice because you ain't got the brains to understand the first time. You had the Dahl arsenal and treasury in your basement, and I had the keys to it, and right now I'm raking out all the valuables. Adieu, assholes, enjoy the feeling of missed treasure.

  Damn. You could've waited a little longer.

  There was a stomping sound from the stairs, followed by the sound of gunfire.

  - Argh!

  - Biter, biter!

  - I'll make a fur coat out of you!

  The bandits reacted immediately to Jim's provocation, and though my turrets mowed down the first group almost immediately, the next group was able to return fire, taking cover behind the corpses of their comrades. They fired sporadically and not accurately, but still one of the turrets shimmered, and another broke off a support that had been hit by a lucky shot. I was rapidly shoveling the contents of the armory into the slots of my ECHO; like Jim had said, it looked like there was some sort of treasury here, because in addition to weapons, ammo, and armor components, I found wads of money. Well, like stacks... Thin stacks. The outpost was obviously not rich, and the weapons were not of the highest quality (still better than mine...).

  That's it, I can't get any more out fast enough.

  I leaned out of the vault with my new shotgun in my hand, and fired a volley at a tall bandit with an axe swinging at the turret.

  Then I ran down the passageway to the exit.

  One more volley, dive into the tunnel, and start the digit-building program.

  - It's Don Quail! - The new voice was louder, and with a noticeable growl. - Whoever brings me Slippery's head gets twenty... no, ten percent of the treasure! And for his heart, a dozen vegetarian pies from our favorite chef, Jadreny. With jelly!

  - Yum! - another voice intervened.

  - You heard the man! - Don bellowed again.

  - Grr...

  The last sound came from the other side of the tunnel.

  It seemed that the comrades of the murdered (not innocently) skag had come to visit, to avenge him....

  And then - what I was afraid of: the rumble of an explosion. Local grenades aren't really loud, but indoors...

  The sonic boom and blast wave didn't hurt me, or even stun me (again, thank goodness for an improved body...), but a couple of damaged turrets were completely out of commission. The others had taken some damage too, but they were still holding back the bandits, who were still being processed into mincemeat; and I had to make my way to the exit.

  I fired my shotgun at the sound, reloaded, and fired again at the skag that came into view. Another volley, into the jumping maw. At the next one. Another shot, use the turret support to reload. Shake off the spit, kick the leaping skag, put a shot in at point-blank range. Turn around at the sound and shoot the bandit, turn around again, and shoot the skag.

  A throw of the axe nullified the shield and knocked me down, onto the skag's carcass. Bullets whizzed over me, hitting the still-living beast as it jumped; the bleeding carcass fell on top of me. I rose, covering myself with it; volley, crouch, stack the carcass, creating cover. Another grenade exploded; there were almost no turrets left, no skags either. Salvo, reload; the shield reloaded and began to stabilize. A couple seconds, and a rush forward through the tunnel.

  The bullet knocked down the shield, which had barely had time to regenerate. I'd have to get a more powerful one; no luck, I didn't have one in my arsenal.

  But there was something else.

  A shot into skag, and the shotgun in my hand was replaced by the tube of a rocket-propelled grenade launcher. The eyes of a couple of bandits pointing guns at me from the other end of the tunnel widened.

  - Oops... - someone said distinctly.

  - Oops indeed, - I agreed, sending a rocket - a rocket-propelled grenade - flying. - And Taubin is his prophet.

  Unlike the hand grenades, the blast was palpable now. It pushed me in the back, but it didn't knock me down; the rumble was still surprisingly acceptable, too. The shield is reloading, but no enemies are in sight, but the exit is right in front of me. Changing my weapon to an assault rifle, I made my way out into the hole ...

  ...In place of our car was a melted lump of metal. And not far away stood a huge man - three meters tall, not a meter and a half in shoulders, and at least a meter thick. With two green Malivan machine guns in his hands. And on his shoulder sat... a monkey? With six limbs, four of which were juggling grenades. Uh, no, instead of one grenade, it was a pie.

  "Don Quail and his tamed bullywang Mary Jane, - reported the ECHO. - "Sweet couple."

  Oops.

  Karma is such a bitch.