Mic Mechanic 2 Novels & Stories

, I ask myself before doing the same. But the engine kept failing and finally with a huff I get out from my car and call the mechanic so that he could check what is wrong with my baby. Since I was in stadium thankfully few were available from the company who hired me here. The mechanic came and tried to turn on the engine but the same thing happened again and again. He frowned and checked engine but it was all good. He finally went to check the diesel tank and when he opened and took a peek his frown increased. He took a bud which has a long rod attached and put it inside and turn towards me.

Silas’ hand went to his sidearm. But he didn’t draw. Not yet. The mechanic moved slowly, light scanning the debris. He stopped near the window where Silas had crouched. Kicked aside a rusted pipe. Then, faintly, he knelt. And picked up something. A micro SD card. Small. Black. Unmarked. But not his. Silas’ stomach dropped. He hadn’t lost it. He never carried it on him. But the mechanic held it like he knew. And then — his phone buzzed.

I muttered under my breath. I always made sure to call a mechanic to check my car before leaving, and I did the same thing today. Immediately after I woke up, I dialled the mechanic's number and asked him to come to check my car. I knew he had come because I went down to give him the car keys. "What the hell is going on?" I managed to drive the car to the side of the road and got out. I went over to the hood, opened it, and I was greeted by a lot of smoke and a little spillage of water. A few droplets touched my

Near the mech's centre, a massive dent let me see straight into its torn wiring, which still produced sparks. "Axion tech," I spat. "That's not one of ours." "It looked like it had only just begun to sink when I detected it," Tio remarked. "I wonder what was keeping it-" The mech shifted. "Tio, drop that thing!" Damica exclaimed. She produced a pistol from the folds of her jacket, levelling it at the mech. "Wait!" I called. Tio's hands froze on the controls. As we looked on in nervous silence, part of the mech's matte-black armour parted, a hatch underneath opening outwards into the cool night air.

“Told you it needed servicing.” I exhaled. “I need somewhere to stash the bike until I find a mechanic.” “I’m a mechanic,” he replied. “You’re also a jackass.” A beat passed before his mouth twitched, almost a smile. “Can’t argue with that. Name’s Jax.” "Sounds the same to me." He gestured toward the shed. “Leave it behind there. I’ll take a look tomorrow if I feel like it.” I wanted to punch something, but instead, I said, “Fine.”

Very soon, with Christmas around the corner, her biggest surprise awaited. When the car pulled up in front of the shop, I exhaled once, steadying myself. The sign above the bay door read Joaquín Hernández Mecánica, sun-faded but proud. Sparks flew from inside as a mechanic welded something. The smell of oil, metal, and old engines filled the air. I stepped out. Demetria’s father turned at the sound of the SUV door closing. Older, strong build, grey in his beard, grease on his hands. His gaze sharpened when he recognised me.

The sharp, metallic clank of tools echoed through the mechanic shop as Liam stood near a black SUV, his sleeves rolled up and his hands already smeared with grease. Outside, the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the lot. Inside, however, the atmosphere was far from calm. “You stole it!” one of the customers, a heavyset man with a red face, barked. His voice filled the room. “Don’t you dare deny it — my alternator was brand new when I brought this car in here. And now it’s gone!”

“Riley, take these down to the mechanic in the underground lot. He finished my Beemer early. Tell him thanks from me.” I froze, keys in hand, heart slamming against my ribs. Mechanic? No way. It couldn’t be. But Hargrove’s garage spot was in the building’s sub-level, and the keys had a familiar tag—Jax’s Auto. “Uh, sure, Mr. Hargrove. Be right back.”

Ren ordered, his eyes dead and cold. The mechanic looked at the gun, then at Leo, who was looming behind Ren like an angry mountain. The mechanic threw his hands up and backed away. Ren jumped into the driver's seat. There were no keys, just a toggle switch and a starter button. He flipped the switch and slammed his palm onto the button. The V8 engine roared to life, a deafening explosion of raw, un-muffled horsepower that spat a gout of black smoke from the vertical exhaust pipes. Leo vaulted into the passenger seat, his heavy frame making the suspension groan.

“Okay, that’s insane. I mean, what sort of self-respected mechanic would ever agree to make such dangerous alterations to a car?” “Thankfully, Michael managed to find, probably, the one and only mechanic in the region that possesses a strong sense of morality and a heavily guilty conscience,” he remarked. “After our trip to the junkyard, we were directed to Matteo’s Mechanic shop. The guy looked guilty prior to us even asking him any questions.” I couldn’t imagine trying to live with that kind of guilt. But why would this guy have agreed to do something so reckless if he already knew that it was wrong?