The Faceless MechanicMature

A fun story that embodies all I think is cool. It isn't supposed to make sense, but just be something I can write in for practice and fun.

"God dammit, how many times are you guys going to pester me about this!?" 

Adam grinned as he heard his boss shout at the reporter in the front room. It was always like this, of course, because the paparazzi just couldn't give up. Old man Harry had seriously considered firing Adam more than once.

"Please, Mr. Johnson," the voice - a young man from the sound of it - begged. "I just want to talk to him. I don't need to see him." 

Not going to work, dude. If Harry gave in, like the old bat would just love to do, then Adam walked. And Adam wasn't a famous mechanic just for never showing his face; he could fix anything with wheels. Yes, that included bicycles and whatever else. He was just that good.

"Either get that shitty car of yours in here for a repair or get your ass outta my shop." A typical line from the owner of Harry's automotive to a reporter. That line had been said exactly like that forty seven times before. Adam kept count for fun. "I won't say it twice."

After a few silent moments, a bell rang announcing the reporter's departure. Footsteps of the grumpy old man kind came next. The door to Adam's workshop opened, admitting the short and balding old man that employed Adam. Harry scratched his beard as he closed the door, then took a seat. 

"I oughta just give up," he growled. "Yer just lucky you bring more customers than idiot reporters."

Adam laughed a little and walked away from the truck he was working on. Diesel engines were always fun to work with. Not much different between them and gasoline engines, but usually diesel meant massive trucks. It might just be living in Alabama for over half a century, but Adam loved bigger vehicles with lots of power these days.

"I wish I could show my face, Harry," Adam told the man as he took the wooden chair next to Harry's metal folding one. "Not aging would alert the wrong sort of people, though. Plus, this skin of mine doesn't help one bit. People might think I was an alien." Adam laughed at the thought. His skin was a very obvious silver. Like someone had bled all the color out of his body and put some metal underneath. Well, his right arm DID have metal underneath. 

Harry grunted. "As far as I know, you could be."

"Fair enough." Adam stood and walked over to the car they had just got in. It was Honda Accord. A 2001 model, too. "What's wrong with this one?"

"Far as I can tell, just an exhaust leak. Was left here last night with a form for it."

Adam groaned. "So, just a boring one." He walked over and got in the car, cranking it up. Harry always left cars with the keys in, so long as they were inside the shop. A sound told Adam that it was indeed an exhaust leak. But something else... 

Oh well. 

"Patch it up and we will get it out in the mornin," Harry said, getting up. His knees had gotten bad in his seventies. Adam was glad he didn't have to worry about that. This condition had cost him more than it was worth, though, so it was a short lived happy feeling. "Don't get caught sneaking out! Those damn reporters are getting desperate."

Adam nodded and bid the man a good night. He couldn't blame the reporters, though. He was called the Faceless Master Mechanic. About fifty years ago, Adam had escaped from... well, hell, and made his way to a sleepy little town where he found Harry's shop. The young harry and his father took Adam in, despite his odd appearance, and let him help out. When Adam had let his talent for fixing machines be known, they hired him and let him live in the shop. 

Good thing Adam didn't need much money. Or anything else, really. Not anymore.

The car didn't take long and soon Adam was sneaking out of the shop, his makeup applied to give his skin the regular look and a wig of short black hair as well. He couldn't do anything about his grey eyes, but that was usually easy to pass off as a rare genetic trait. Plus, where he was going, no one would really care to question an eye color. 

Bars were, by far, the best places he had been to since he gained his freedom.

The End

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