Of course, that was just talk.
If the entire Brooklyn police force actually walked out, they'd be the first ones to regret it. Losing their jobs and pensions? No thanks.
But it was true that morale was low.
Disaster reconstruction always brings out the worst in people—looters, scammers, and opportunists.
The military might help hunt down alien remnants, but day-to-day law and order? That was still on the NYPD.
And despite their desperate need for new weapons, bureaucracy moved at the speed of a sloth. Rebuilding precincts, paying out pensions to the families of fallen officers—it all cost money, and approvals took time.
So, while the order for the "Arbiter" pistols was placed, it would be a while before the average beat cop got one in their holster.
Luca wasn't too involved in the politics. He oversaw the production lines and factory construction for Aurantius Materials, leaving the red tape to his employees.
Besides the company, he had his own projects.
School was starting soon, which was annoying but manageable.
His daily routine of wandering malls hoping to trigger a new Core Component had become a habit.
But his main focus was on three things.
First: Upgrading the Turn A Squad.
After working with Tony on the Haro Mech, and with Tony's anxiety getting worse (leading to constant calls where Tony would critique Luca's designs just to distract himself), Luca had a lot of new ideas.
He couldn't use all the gear himself—he only had two hands. So, he decided to upgrade his loyal bodyguards.
Shield Mountain (Dunshan) and the others were getting custom-made, high-tech equipment.
And thanks to the Hoi-Poi Capsules, they could carry heavy weaponry in their pockets, ready to deploy at a moment's notice to protect their "frail scientist" boss.
Second: Upgrading the Boxer.
The Boxer was a system-synthesized item, but unlike "black box" items like the Dehydration Gun, it operated on somewhat understandable physics.
Its appearance was garbage (literally), and it had zero built-in weapons.
Even though its scrap-metal hull was surprisingly durable, Luca wanted to overhaul it.
Fortunately, the Boxer was roughly the same size as a Mobile Suit from Gundam. Luca could adapt a lot of the data from Haro's database.
The challenge was integrating sleek Gundam tech onto a junkyard frame without breaking everything. It was a massive engineering project, so he was taking it slow.
Third: The frustrating grind.
"Still nothing? That's dozens of them now..."
Luca tossed his latest handmade Solar Skateboard into the corner.
The pile of rejected skateboards was getting comically large.
Some were store-bought and modified; others were built from scratch by Luca himself.
But none of them triggered the "Core Component" status.
"Is it just bad luck? Or am I missing a condition?"
Luca reviewed his rules for the Golden Finger:
1. Items used by high-luck plot characters trigger more easily.
2. Ordinary items closer to the "original" version trigger more easily.
3. Closer resemblance = fewer synthesis materials needed.
"Maybe my boards are too good? Should I leave out some screws?"
"Or do I need to find an elementary schooler and gift one to them?"
Honestly, a Solar Skateboard was useless to Luca now. He could build a better one with Haro's help without needing the system.
Unless it had the magical physics-defying properties of the anime version (driving on walls, tightropes, impossible jumps), a regular electric skateboard was just a toy.
But he needed it to complete the Detective Conan (5/5) set.
Just as he was contemplating whether to sabotage his own craftsmanship, a horde of colorful balls bounced into the room.
"Idiot Luca! Idiot Luca!"
"Idiot Luca! Idiot Luca!"
"..."
The swarm of mini-Haros, led by the original Aurantius Haro, chirped in unison.
Annoyed, Luca grabbed the Aurantius Haro and started squeezing it like a stress ball.
"I built you siblings so you could get work done! What the hell are you teaching them?!"
The Aurantius Haro squirmed, unbothered by the squeezing.
Luca had replicated over twenty Haros recently. Most were busy running calculations or piloting mini-repair mechs to expand the lab.
But this group? Aurantius Haro was taking them for "physical training."
Since the replicas didn't have the Aurantius Haro's indestructible, shape-shifting body or advanced AI, they needed practice just to move around properly.
"Training is fine! But what's with the chanting?! You're corrupting them!"
The Aurantius Haro didn't care. Its eyes flashed red. It prepared to headbutt its creator.
"Haro Strike! Ha—"
Before it could finish, Luca slapped it out of the air.
But he forgot one thing.
When Aurantius Haro said "Haro Strike," it wasn't a solo move.
"HARO STRIKE! HARO STRIKE! HARO STRIKE!"
Red, blue, green, purple.
A rainbow avalanche of metal balls launched themselves at Luca, burying him under a pile of chirping, bouncing robots.