Circe was known to her fellow runners of the gun for numerous qualities. Foul language, aggression, being a total gun bunny, her laugh. Her skill with construction was also on that list.


High quality replacement parts were something she could machine if needed. Whilst most home-made suppressors were total single use garbage, easily broke apart, looked like trash scraps, or some combination there of these, the same couldn't be said for those made by Circe.


Same goes for any replacement body parts, stocks, barrels, ecetera. The thing was they all knew Circe could build things.


So, when the bosses decided to deal in one of the more dangerous areas south of the border, one of them got an idea. They had such crafty "employees" working for them, so why not have them armor up their rides on the sly?


To her credit, Circe had an idea for doing this to the car's body in a light weight, non-magnetic fashion. Well, not her idea she got it from one of those post-apocalypse stories. Paper and plastic adhesives of various types layered upon the inside of the body. Low tech carbon fiber! It would minorly increase the protection of the doors, gas tank, and engine block with minimal performance reduction.


Which she pointed out to them and insisted be proved via tests. Along with suggesting they try to get some kind of performance enhancement.


Circe had insisted upon testing it. Hence being in the scrap yard working on loose car doors and some live fire testing. For safety and not just amusement. Yes, the elfin Summer admitted she found it fun, but safety too.


She'd even gotten a few swings in on the doors with an axe. Despite this success, Circe was arguing on the phone with her technically boss's boss over the armoring process.


"Look, ya asked fer cheap and quick armoring. That is what this is and it will NOT work on the damn windows or tires," she shouts into the phone. Something is said to her. She growls.


"Ya won't be able ta see out the window and ya shouldn't skimp on bulletproof glass anyway! Or runflats!"


More conversation as those going at the doors with tools pause to listen in. Circe was foul mouthed and often amusing to her coworkers. Her rapid shouting and arm waving did not disappoint them. "Fanculo! Tu stupido idiota di merda cervello, non hai buon senso sotto il tuo cappello di culo? Run flat tires," she was speaking slowly now, "Let. Ya. RUN," she speeds back up, "When somebody shoots yer tires."


Something else is said to her, more quietly now.


"Oh ho ho ho ho!" Circe actually throws her head back to laugh, "Oh ho ho, flattery won't help, oh ho ho ho! I don't know how ta make them. That's why you BUY them."


The Fairest patiently, well for her, listens as the person on the other end eventually says something. "Of course I am right. I always know what I can NOT do."


The Summer Queen just had to get the last word in.