All Level, No Experience (Worm/Pathfinder Amnesia Quest)

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Humans aren't exempt from the food chain.

It doesn't matter how cushy their little office job is, how they live in a city far away from any the wilderness, or how many zeroes they can cram onto their paychecks. Doesn't matter how much power a CEO- like that prissy Anders' from Medhall- thinks he has, he and every other suit knows not to go through territory that ain't theirs without a layer of steel and tinted glass between them and everyone else. Cause even if they aren't willing to admit it, deep down they know that it'd only take one tweaked-up junkie to kill them with nothing more than a twisted piece of chain-link fence. So of course they'd be scared shitless of anyone who looks poorer than them, and the scavengers around them can't afford to draw attention to themselves, so they fall right behind.

Click-whoosh-thunk-thud, one and another. Break into shadows, glide down, break back out, tag em for the cops, a hand to her earpiece, "Shadow Stalker to Console, two would-be muggers bagged on an alley down Salt street, between Storm and Stone."

So, when she got caught fucking up a junkie herself, they gave her a better mask, shittier ammo, and a shitty little timetable to follow. Cause they did the same shit, wanted her to keep doing it, they just didn't like how it made them look, that she was doing different and couldn't act like they were in charge.

A slight crackle from the earpiece, then, "Whoo, it's been, if my watch is right," fuckin' great, Dennis was on console, "An entire five minutes since you started patrol. Don't take it too easy now."

She said, "Maybe you'd want to use your gear if you got anything more advanced then an LED, you glorified snooze button."

The fucker laughed, though it was some weak, forced shit, "'Glorified snooze button', I'll have to use that one."

For fuck's sake, out of all her 'teammates', Dennis was always the fucking worst to deal with. Carlos actually toughed shit out, Chris at least got the message to shut the fuck up, Missy, for as much of an irritating doe-eyed gnat she could be, at least had a damn good power and the scars to prove her shit, getting into stabbing distance of Hookwolf and surviving, and even Dean at least had something resembling a spine when she talked shit. Nah, Dennis was the worst out of all of them, with a power that was so shit it couldn't even be consistently useless, who half the time couldn't even decide if he wanted to be the class clown or the quiet kid moping in the corner over nobody-gives-a-shit what. They should've given him those drama mask things instead of the clocks, frankly, would've fit who he actually was.

Still, even his bullshit couldn't take away from the feeling of getting to fire this actual fucking masterpiece after nearly a month and a half of anticipation, after Armsmaster and the damn research teams went prodding at it, trying to figure out how it worked. Hell, it was still vindicating that all they could get out of their prying was 'it just does', the frustration served those grubby-handed raccoons right.

She inspected the weapon she was holding while nodding along and pretending to listen to what the civvy was warbling on about, and damn did it never stop hitting her how fine it was. Two actual goddamn Simurgh feathers for a limb, other parts she didn't know the names of for the strings and groove, and a damn well perfect stock, grip, and trigger, or at least they had a better feel to use than literally anything else she'd ever picked up. As in, if what those monks or whatever in Shao-wherever China got up to was like this, then maybe she could almost understand their hippie asceticism shit they peddled next to the actually useful stuff.

Not much later on her patrol she found one of the rare few Archer's Bridge boys around, that or just a regular dealer, it was hard to tell because they didn't even do anything to stand out. E88 had their shit everywhere she wasn't welcome, and the ABB at least picked a couple of colors, even if it made some of the dumber members dress like every day was fucking Christmas.

Still, an excuse was an excuse, and they'd just believe her if she said he was high, so it didn't matter if she checked, more focused on grudgingly loading in the damn tranq rounds they had her use before taking her time to line it up.

She knew why she had to use the damn tranqs, but still, it got the hassle off her back and ended up better all around when she did, so it was just another one of the things she didn't like but had to do anyways.

Brush your teeth, make your bed, eat your veggies, pose for the cameras-

Click-whoosh-thunk-thud

-use the tranq darts, even when the crossbow you're carrying can literally create bolts for nothing that hit nonlethally anyway and we know that, and Armsmaster still won't share the damn word to switch it back to normal with her.

If she thought she could've gotten away with it, Shadow Stalker would have 100% percent already 'stolen' her crossbow back from the PRT, got the password she needed to go lethal again, and skipped town to go back to her old way of doing shit. It was like a second power all its own, hells, it pretty much was a copy of Fletchette's aim, if not packing quite the same punch. The kind of thing that could jump even a plain-ass nobody on even level with a cape.

And the man who's name was carved into the side made it in fifteen minutes- she'd waited longer for a fucking cup of coffee, that one time Emma insisted on that place that practically bled flannel from the walls with how deep in the hipster shit it was. And that coffee didn't exactly last forever, the way the labcoats said the crossbow would, since apparently it just plain didn't get wear from regular or even constant use- another thing they figured out works 'because it just does'. And he made it partially out of actual fucking rubble, in addition to the Simurgh parts, which frankly?

She tended to put people in one of two camps, like any other animal- the predators and the prey. Even if humans were generally at the top of the food chain, in the same way a river can have it's own smaller chain inside a forest, people still had the ones on top and below. Meekly taking whatever's thrown at you without even trying to fight back, walking around with your head hunched hoping nobody stronger would ever notice you? Prey. The kind of shit she and most other capes did, driving the junkies, criminals, and other acceptable targets out from their turf, their territory? Predator.

But Iluontar, the Mountain-Smith? The dude who handled the Dragonslayers like two days after showing up (and dissing the PRT right to Militia's face, which was so damn satisfying to watch)? Who singlehandedly wiped out the Slaughterhouse Nine the very first fucking day they pulled their shit too loud after he showed up? Who at that point had caused her to learn what the fuck a 'Mononym with an appended title' meant and was so she could put some actual respect on his name by saying it right? Who tag-teamed The Simurgh with Eidolon, then asked for his cut of the corpse and used it to make the very weapon she's holding?

That was something more, that was some Hunter shit. Even the fucking Triumvirate hadn't stopped the Slaughterhouse or the Endbringers, but the first fucking time Iluontar shows up? He actually solves that shit, and solves it so he only has to deal with it once.

Shit, they may be wackjobs that recently had a whole fucking cell go Jonestown with Knives on themselves not long ago, but there were a few parts of the Fallen splitting off from the Behemoth branch and preaching that Iluontar was the son/brother/father of Behemoth, or that he was the true, perfected Endbringer descended upon them, or some other shit, which like- the Behemoth and Endbringer talk was just bullshit.

But she had to admit, sometimes, some parts of what they said otherwise… they felt like they were making a few good points, was all. Even a broken clock, and whatever, that was all.

"-adow Stalker! Are you there? You've not checked in for a while."

Fuckin' Dennis, "Yeah, I'm here. Something caught my eye but it turned out to be nothing. I got another one here, right in front of…"

This shit was so much simpler back when she could just leave the fuckers to bleed. At least she might have another chance or two to use her crossbow before they locked the poor thing away again.

---

Dennis leaned back in his chair, muting his side of the connection, as he waved Dean over to the console.

Dennis said, "Hey, Gallant, I need your opinion on something. Shadow Stalker's kinda started, talking to her crossbow? Now, don't get me wrong, I've cursed out a microwave or two in my day, but this is tinkertech we're talking. Here, let me pull up the relevant moments and you can give it a listen, you thinking it's anything worth M and S?"

Dean leaned over, accepting a headset and listening, before eventually shaking his head, "Not quite I'd say, that just sounds like normal- mostly normal anyway- personification. Nothing worth calling protocols over, maybe just mention it to Armsmaster or Miss Militia if you get the chance."

Dennis thanked Dean and waved him off, and so Dean returned to what he was doing. Internally debating what in the hell he should do. On one end was to do nothing, or otherwise act normal, because even if he couldn't turn it off his emotional sensing could be tantamount to a violation of privacy, so it would be wrong of him to act any way other than personally on the information he gained from it when not actively on duty.

On the other hand, Shadow Stalker's emotions have been frequently different since the Simurgh battle, and while the fight hadn't lasted long enough for her to even be a Ziz Bomb, that wasn't where his concern stemmed from.

It was more from how every single time she looked at her phone background, or any other picture of Iluontar, he got emotionally flashbanged by a high-octane cocktail of respect, fear, and admiration. One that was a near-identical mix to what he'd seen a couple of summers ago, when his family had gone on a trip to Louisiana to take a tour up the Mississippi River, and they'd gone past some of the most authentic Deep South fire-and-brimstone street preachers, that would look right into your car and demand you 'Repent! Less' yeh test the patience of the LORD!'

That kind of thing, suddenly exploding into his vision without warning, often multiple times a day, felt like something he might want to report. But he hadn't done that sort of thing with 'off the job' power knowledge before, it felt wrong to do it now.

Dean breathed in, and sighed out. Things were simpler back when he was just reporting an abstract mass of curiosity following him and his girlfriend under the floor, rather than dealing with his most abrasive coworker talking to her weapon and her maybe-religious veneration of the Case-53 Eidolon.

Gods cape life was weird sometimes.

---

"And lastly," Piggot nearly ground out, "Our resident c-fifty-three's file just updated, again. Armsmaster, if you would deliver the summary you prepared."

Armsmaster nodded, "Of course. Tinker is up to a full ten, with a Master six to seven sub-rating depending on whether the minion in question is a 'clockwork soldier', the seemingly unique fugue creation 'Spice', or one of the exceptionally large 'juggernaut robots' being used in construction work as of three days ago. The soldiers are noted to have a common loadout of what have been identified as tinkertech light machine guns of a custom, if internally standardized, make, and rings of what have been identified as 'hot siccatite', a material also solely known to originate from Iluontar. There is one exception in a single soldier with a perpetually burning cloak rather than ring, and the only one possessing a name according to interviews with local workers that have spoken with the soldiers, going by 'Braun', B R A U N."

Triumph slowly began to raise his hand, but Velocity leaned in, "I'll catch you up to speed after."

Piggot could appreciate Velocity taking the initiative to keep things moving. She could not appreciate Assault's finger guns at Velocity as he caught the inadvertent pun.

Armsmaster continued, "The juggernaut robots, on the other hand, have been identified as containing technology advanced enough that we cannot date how far advanced, and can only identify advanced laser weaponry amongst other unknown functions."

Armsmaster turned a page, then said, "Finally, there is a footnote that if the head office deems it warranted, they may release sub-assessments solely covering the various Tinker-Master minions, which we as the host city's PRT would be obligated to keep to date with, and update ourselves where possible."

Only Assault had the nerve to audibly groan at that, though he was thankfully reigned in by Battery before he could start talking and drag this meeting on any longer.

Piggot said, "Thank you Armsmaster. The meeting is dismissed."

Piggot made her way back to her office, and allowed herself to blankly stare at the paperwork she had to deal with for only twenty straight seconds, before getting to work managing this perpetual mess.

Damn Capes.

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AN: Well, that was more than I thought it'd be. I just found the right music, then Shadow Stalker started to flow, and from there the rest. As I'm sure you could read, we've also moved a few more days ahead, and I realized that I was in fact able to do that to keep time flowing while moving through an Interlude, which should smooth things for when I come back.

Speaking of, I'm off! See y'all at around July 8th!

Hope y'all enjoyed!