My Infinite Investment System

The red fracture reached the shield core, then stopped one breath away from splitting it.

Ryan kept his palm raised and said, "If you lift that, the next impact will send the core through your ribs."

Nia Vasquez-Oyelaran looked from his hand to the burned slab on the floor, giving neither the courtesy of surprise.

Her fingers remained around the grip as she asked, "How many layers are damaged?"

Spark Sense painted the answer in gold and red, tracing three ceramic plates, warped copper mesh, then the crack buried beneath both.

’She believes me enough to request measurements,’ he thought, ’that may be the nicest thing anybody has done today.’

He crouched without touching the weapon and said, "Three plates, inner mesh, central housing, the core is carrying weight through one intact corner."

One eyebrow moved by less than a fingernail.

Mika lowered her charged hand and asked, "Did you know your shield was auditioning to become shrapnel?"

Nia finished easing her fingers from the grip before answering, "I knew it had become temperamental."

The tower shield settled against the floor with a dull scrape, its scorched blue face nearly hiding Ryan from the waist down.

He pointed to a black dent near the center and said, "Temperamental is a loose strap, this is a murder attempt with a handle."

A small breath left Nia’s nose, and it took him a second to recognize amusement.

’Okay,’ he thought, ’she is funny in a language that requires subtitles.’

Mika stepped around the slab, studying the stranger’s charcoal trousers, ceramic dust, and sleeveless work jacket before turning on a polished smile.

"Northstar is temporarily unable to host personal explosives," she said, angling herself toward the front windows, "but we can arrange curbside collection."

Nia ignored the performance and looked toward the west wall as she replied, "My forge bench is under the service platform."

The club owner let the smile cool from her eyes first.

"The building may be sealed tomorrow morning," she said, tapping the condemnation notice, "anything bolted down becomes city property until the appeal."

Nia read the orange page from top to bottom, then checked the one stable chair and the regulator near Mika’s ribs.

"You need another licensed hunter," she said.

Ryan stood slowly and asked, "You have an active license?"

She removed a black card from her jacket, wiped ceramic dust from the corner, and held it where both of them could read.

**Nia Vasquez-Oyelaran | C-rank bulwark | Field status: active**

The license photograph showed the same square face and direct eyes, except the rope twists had been loose around her shoulders.

’C-rank,’ he thought, glancing at the ruined shield, ’and she walked here carrying the thing most likely to kill her.’

The club owner took the card between two fingers and asked, "Why does a C-rank bulwark have a forge bench inside my dead nightclub?"

The shieldsmith reclaimed it before the inspection became ownership and said, "Your former partner rented me the west bay, then stopped answering messages."

The smile vanished completely.

"He did that often near the end," the owner said, rubbing one thumb along the regulator strap, "usually when the message contained a number."

Silence settled around the old bar while rain ticked through the damaged side entrance.

Ryan followed a faint gold route under the dance floor, where bolts from the hidden bench still connected to the west wall.

The bench mattered to Nia, but Spark Sense kept returning to the unstable core at his feet.

’If I offer money, she walks,’ he thought, watching her clean dust from her license, ’if I let her lift that shield, she may not get far enough to walk.’

He pointed toward the service platform and said, "Help us keep the building open, and your bench stays yours."

Her eyes remained on the card as she asked, "What kind of help?"

The owner unfolded the condemnation notice and answered, "One completed gate operation delays enforcement while our guild application is reviewed."

"That is not what the notice says."

The owner pressed one nail beneath the smaller print and said, "The inspector highlighted badly, but the useful paragraph survived."

Nia read the exception twice.

Ryan watched her jaw shift once when she reached the requirement for an active tank role.

’She hates needing us almost as much as Mika hates being seen needing me,’ he thought, ’Northstar may have found its recruitment strategy.’

The shieldsmith slid the license away and said, "I will complete one gate run as payment for access to my bench."

The owner folded both arms and replied, "Your bench is already yours."

She hooked one thumb into her jacket pocket and said, "Then the run pays for storage."

The owner swept one hand across the stripped club and replied, "The building currently has more empty floor than furniture."

The shieldsmith touched the broken latch with her boot and offered, "Security."

The owner glanced toward the side door Nia had opened by leaning on it and asked, "From what?"

The shieldsmith looked at the broken latch before answering, "Determined entry."

Ryan coughed into one fist while the owner stared at her.

’Do not laugh during recruitment,’ he thought, pressing his lips together, ’professional guilds probably have a rule about this.’

The owner caught the movement, pointed at them both, and said, "Fine, one run, but nobody calls it charity or dies protecting a broken weapon."

Nia’s gaze moved to the tower shield.

For the first time since entering, her hand stopped doing something useful.

"I do not have another one," she said.

Ryan followed Spark Sense around the damaged plates until he found two intact load paths along the outer rim.

The shield could survive weight, not impact, which left exactly one bad option.

"Carry it flat on the equipment cart," he said, indicating the remaining routes, "inside the gate, you brace it against the floor and never lift from the center grip."

She crouched across from him, keeping her knees outside the fracture line as she asked, "How many impacts?"

He held up two fingers and said, "One, maybe two if the attacker strikes the rim."

She checked the fracture again before asking, "Three?"

He tapped the red center without touching it and said, "The core enters you at an educational speed."

Her mouth lost discipline at one corner, then returned to a straight line.

Mika watched the exchange with her phone still face down on the desk.

"No," she said, pushing away from the bar, "we find a gate where one impact is enough."

The city contract board offered fourteen operations before midnight.

Twelve required a healer, one required five licensed hunters, and the last showed a warehouse full of thumb-sized gate rats rated harmless to adults.

Ryan opened the final listing and read its victory condition.

**Clear all nests before 23:59 | Team: two licensed hunters plus one analyst | Reward: seventy-two-hour enforcement pause**

He turned the screen toward them and said, "One warehouse, low-rank rats, no boss classification."

Nia stood, slid both hands beneath the harmless outer rim, and lifted the shield flat without disturbing its center grip.

"Accept it," she said.

Mika’s eyes moved between the cracked slab and the countdown showing four hours, twelve minutes.

Fear squared her shoulders before the public smile returned.

"Congratulations," she said, accepting the contract, "Northstar’s first official mission is pest control."

Across the room, the unstable core gave one quiet metallic click.