Marcus Riddley's Arc

Chapter 1 of 5

Marcus Riddley wiped grease from his hands and stared at the broken steam pipe. For thirty years, he'd fixed machines in Gremlin's Gorge. Every repair lasted a week, maybe two. Then the gremlins struck again. Bolts loosened. Gears jammed. Wires frayed in impossible places. Most folks cursed the creatures and gave up. Not Marcus. He believed gremlins could help instead of harm. Somewhere in their chaos was a pattern, a secret. He just had to find it. The next morning, Marcus stood before the old auto repair shop he'd just bought. Dust coated the windows. Paint peeled from the wooden sign that read "Riddley's Repair." Inside, a vintage car from the 1950s sat on a lift, wheels frozen in the air. Tools covered the workbench in thick layers of grime. He walked through the space, boots echoing on concrete. This place would work. Plenty of machines to tinker with. Plenty of space to watch and learn. He pulled a wrench from his belt and set it on the bench. Then he waited. Gremlins loved fresh metal and old engines. If his theory was right, they'd come. And when they did, he'd be ready to study them. By afternoon, Marcus had his bait ready. A car engine hung from the hoist in the center of the shop. He'd left bolts loose and parts scattered around it. Half-assembled, it looked like an invitation. The engine gleamed under the shop lights, all chrome and possibility. He'd drilled small holes in the oil pan and left the timing belt exposed. Everything about it screamed unfinished. Gremlins couldn't resist that. They lived to take things apart, to find the weak spots. Marcus pulled up a stool twenty feet back and sat down. He held a notebook in one hand and a pencil in the other. The shop fell quiet except for the tick of the wall clock. Now came the hard part. He had to watch and record everything. Every sound, every movement, every choice they made. Only then could he figure out what made them tick. Only then could he turn their chaos into order.