Tech Jacket นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Instead, she turned away from the crowd and snuck to a quiet corner to sober up. Up in the mountains, the wind could be biting. Her clothes were not as thick as she would have liked, and so when a breeze billowed, she shivered. A new set of weights settled on her shoulders. A thick outdoor jacket had been draped over her body—with lingering heat from its previous wearer, too. Jeanette turned and found Damon. “Why are you here?” she asked, her hands quickly moving to the outdoor jacket to take it off. If any of her coworkers met her wearing his shirt, the rumor mills would go into overdrive.

She eyed me suspiciously but didn't say anything as she stuffed the supplies into her bag. Donned in tan leather pants paired with a linen tunic featuring black buttons, she secured a familiar dagger to a harness against her ribs. Retrieving her jacket from the bed, she pulled it over her head. The jacket, embellished with simple brass buckles and elbow pads, had been a lavish purchase for her sixteenth birthday the previous year. The intent was to possess a garment to conceal her daggers when venturing into town, like today.

I opened the Jeep’s door for Jace as he stood waiting next to it and I shook my head as he climbed in. He was wearing a t-shirt that Tala had given him for his birthday, that sported a corpse clown with fangs for teeth, tight jeans with boots, and a leather bomber jacket. “Is this place, you know …” His voice trailed off, and I smiled at him. “All kinds of people hang out there,” I said, and he smiled.

Jake. Punctual this time, which was a small miracle in itself. He looked well, better geared, for starters. His jacket was sleek black, fitted, and clearly new. Not in a flashy way, but in the “I-don’t-shop-sales-rack” kind of way. His boots actually matched and his helmet didn’t look like it had survived three wars. Still, he carried himself like a man preparing to face his doom. “Hey, disaster” I called out with a grin, sliding my goggles up.

"Something they've never seen before." The day of the meeting dawned gray and cold—unseasonable weather that had nothing to do with the calendar and everything to do with the ship's presence in the harbor. Jack dressed carefully. Not in a suit—that was what they'd expect. Instead, he wore the tactical gear from the arctic expedition, the void arm exposed, the golden veins pulsing with barely contained energy. "You look like a supervillain," Ben commented. "Good." Jack checked his reflection. "That's the point."

Some of it doubled as weapons—baseball bats, fencing swords, anything fit to crack skulls or fend off attackers. Then he spotted something that made his eyes gleam: skiing and mountaineering gear. Not just any gear, but athlete-grade thermal suits designed for national teams. These cutting-edge marvels of 2050 tech could withstand temperatures as low as ⁠-100℃. His heart leapt. After the Frostfall descended, such gear would be worth more than gold. He packed away dozens of suits and professional-grade sleeping bags without hesitation. Two hours later, the impossible was done. One man had emptied the 10,000,000-square-foot Volmart warehouse.

Jax The next day Jax turned to his new security guard, a black guy named Chills. He wore his usual—black hat, dark pants, and leather jacket. No shirt. It was like he wanted to be a conductor to the sun or some moving solar panel of energy that sucked up the heat. In some ways, the outfit symbolized how bad he was. Who else but a crazy person would wear a leather jacket on a Miami summer day? What was he thinking when he hired him?

He did no⁠t take advantage of that, so why would he demand so‌mething now? I mo‍ve closer to‌ the couch and begin so‌rtin⁠g through the ite⁠ms‌. T‌here is a winter coat⁠, thick and well li⁠ned, a couple o‌f l‌ighter‍ ja⁠ckets, scarves in neutr‌al tones. Beanies, gloves, jeans, sweaters and sturdy boots. In ano⁠th⁠er b⁠ag, I find a multipack of c‍otton und⁠erwear and t‌wo bras, I swallow.

I needed to show him I wasn’t just the anxious kid. And then I saw it. Buried in the back, a relic from a long-ago, ill-advised comic-con phase. A full, vibrant, purple and green Joker shirt, complete with a garish, printed waistcoat and tie. It was definitely a statement. “Perfect,” I muttered to myself, pulling it on. I paired it with my best pair of dark jeans. I looked in the mirror. I looked cool and rebellious, right? Jax was all about breaking rules. This fit.

Chapter 63 Day one, and I could barely breathe. "Do I really need to wear this?" I brushed off invisible dirt from the outfit that looked somewhat close to a swimsuit, and as though it wasn't bad enough, it was tighter and clutched against my chest. "It's a compression jacket. It'll help you a lot more than you think," Clawface said into the open. We were in the middle of a clearing. An orange tree stood behind me, and I rested my back against it, arms wrapped around myself as I paid attention to the rest of Clawface's lecture.