nextive
The Supreme Ham
- Location
- America
Where did this come from?
The one he was gushing about was Doctor Mother, Fortuna got a offhand mention as that girl who hands out stuff.
Shining Example (WORM ORIGIN QUEST)
- Thread starter IKnowNothing
- Start date
The one he was gushing about was Doctor Mother, Fortuna got a offhand mention as that girl who hands out stuff.
- Location
- Leeds
He was 5 years old and he'd already worked through that philosophy?
Why did it take till his teens for his tutors to start calling him a prodigy?
Like some kind of electronic Necromorph.
...
Did he predict that we'd have gravity manipulation and just how it would manifest? Or is this just that all Cauldron capes were initially overwhelmed and it was a funny coincidence in the wording?
She wouldn't be a Yandere for more than five minutes, after that she'd been in a deeply intimate relationship.
IKnowNothing
....What?
- Location
- I got lost so.....Where are we?
His parents finally allowed it when the tutors kept giving them the results of his tests. And it took them awhile to accept it. It wasn't that the tutors didn't want to, it was that they were told not to.
- Location
- Leeds
I understand not showing off a child you're ashamed of but what was this?
Steps on a Path
IKnowNothing
....What?
- Location
- I got lost so.....Where are we?
Interlude: Fortuna
May 6th, 1983
Cauldron
It's honestly disappointing, looking at them all. Every single one of them sitting in their vials.
All those agents.
So many paths, all leading to salvation.
All of them to stop the cycle that would ravage the world. The visions that would haunt her dreams, if she could have those anymore.
It took an entire year, an entire year of working, studying, and following the path to the letter. But finally, they were completed.
Wait.
There was no clock, but Fortuna counted the seconds. Everything was still as they ticked by. As the fourteen second mark drew near, the handle of the door started to open. Fifteen seconds, the hinges started to creek. Sixteen, begin to enter the room. Sixteen point five, finish action.
"Are they finished?" Doctor Mother asked.
Answer.
"The first set, yes, but the remainder will require more time." Fortuna answered.
She took a vial, holding it against the light for Doctor Mother to see. The light passes through, sending sparkles showing across the laboratory floor. "But this, and others, are ready."
A flick of her hand, and the vial was waiting in the palm of Fortuna's hand. The good doctor didn't take it, only looking over it and the girl holding it.
"Can they fail?" Doctor Mother asked.
Answer.
Fortuna nodded.
"There is a possibility that the agents will manifest."
Doctor Mother considered this for the briefest of moments. "Then find recipients, willing or unwilling."
Fortuna nodded, and the paths opened up.
Secure.
She placed the vial back into it's station, closing the case and clicking the locks into place.
Step back.
Leave.
June 2nd, 1984
Denver Colorado
As far as hospitals went, it wasn't the worst. The nurses were kind, their paths free of harm to themselves or their patients. That could be changed, but that wasn't why Fortuna was there. The first path, all of the steps lead to this hospital, at this time, and this room. Special care unit 108, the furthest from the welcoming lobby, but the closest to the emergency surgery rooms.
The door creaks open, and Fortuna stepped inside to find the sorry state of the first agent. His eyes were burned forever shut, his skin little more than bruised parchment paper. His hospital gown barely was hanging on as his chest slowly rose and fell. The sight of him made Fortuna grip the edge of the doorframe.
But that made her stay there for another two seconds, putting her behind the projected path. Despite that delay, the path simply reacted as it always did.
Move.
Fortuna's shoes clicked against the floor as she approached. The boy in the bed did nothing as she did, and he wouldn't, not until the next step.
Tap once.
Slowly, she raised a gloved hand and touched the base of his forearm. The effect was instant. The appendage twitched, before furiously tapping against the edge of his arm rest. The pattern goes on for several seconds before repeating.
Understand.
-. ..- .-. ... . --..-- / .. ... / - .... .- - / -.-- --- ..- ..--..
Nurse, is that you?
Respond
Fortuna raised a finger, and slowly tapped out the rhythm on his hand as lightly as she could.
-. ---
No.
The boy shivered in his bed, his heart monitor beeping ever faster as he tapped on her finger.
- .... . -. / .-- .... --- / .- .-. . / -.-- --- ..- ..--..
Then, who are you?
Respond.
... --- -- . --- -. . / .-- .... --- / .-- .- -. - ... / - --- / .... . .-.. .--. / -.-- --- ..- .-.-.-
Someone who wants to help you.
May 28th, 1985
Confluence Park, Denver.
Walk.
The park was busy this time of day, students rushing to their classes and families wanting to get a single moment of togetherness.
Stop.
Fortuna stopped, narrowly avoiding a bike speeding past her. At least, when he passed, the target finally showed himself. For a given value of showing of course.
Dozens of people passed by him every second, but he was alone on the bridge. His wheelchair was locked in place, by his own volition as he watched the river below. His blonde hair was trying and failing to grow out. His arms were little more than sticks with pale skin covering them.
A pile of rocks sat in his lap. Lazily, he took one and weakly threw it over the edge. It skipped once across the water's surface, then it landed with a thump, disappearing under the river's surface. It was barely ten feet, but the boy smiled at the small accomplishment.
Attract.
Fortuna glanced down, and picked up the smallest stone within reach. She tossed it once, testing the weight, all the while keeping the boy in sight. He took hold of another stone, and readied his arm.
Throw.
With a flick of her wrist, Fortuna sent the stone spiraling to the waters down below. The boy freezes, his motion stopping dead as he watches the stone skips once, twice, thrice, then a fourth time before going into the water. He turned as quickly as his body would allow. The second his eyes landed on Fortuna, a comical whistle sprung out.
Smile.
The smile felt fake, every inch of it the product of the path. But, Fortuna couldn't say no. Even if she wanted to.
Step forward, explain.
"You don't need to throw it harder," she explains "You just have to get a spin on it so it always lands on the flat side."
Approach.
She took another few steps, landing at the boys right. Fortuna leaned against the railing, getting comfortable on the metal as well as she could. As she moved, the boy didn't even blink. If she were any other woman, she might have taken offence to the small amount of drool about to make it's way down his lip.
At least all those steps to give herself a makeover had a worthwhile effect.
Contact.
She raised a hand, breaking the boy out of his stupor. She kept up her smile, to the point that it started to hurt "Fortuna."
The boy blinks and flushes red as he takes hold of the offered hand "C-Charles."
Repond.
"Nice to meet you Charles, you here alone? I see the wheelchair, and I have a bad-"
Stop speaking.
Charles threw up a shaking hand, cutting Fortuna off "No no it's fi-" He coughs, a sick, cracking sound coming from his throat. His skin paled as Fortuna watched him pull back his hand, a small puddle of blood in his hand.
React.
Fortuna's eyes shot open. She put a hand on his back, supporting him as best she could.
"Oh my god are you going to be-"
Stop.
"No no I'm fine!" Charles yelled defiantly.
Respond.
"You don't look fine," Fortuna points out. "Do you need to see a doctor?"
Her comment seemed to spark a chuckle in Charles. He kept a hand close by, but he smiled effortlessly, without a care in the world.
"Yeah, I've seen all of them, and I've ended up with three. But I got to say, the medicine they put me on really isn't doing the job if it's making me screw up talking with someone like you."
Question.
"Someone like me?"
Charles smiled.
"Most nines usually give me one look and go on their merry way. Honestly I'm surprised I'm lasting this long next to you. My heart's racing. I think I'm going to have another attack."
Chide.
"I guess I should be going then, that would be better for you, right?" She asked, the sound almost innocent in a way.
Charles' smile flickered, but it didn't fade. He didn't want it to fade, so it stayed despite the reaction.
"I-I… yeah. I guess you can." Charles said, defeated.
He perked up a moment later.
"I don't suppose I could get your number after all of this right?"
Respond.
Fortuna shook her head, and the downcast look that hits Charles is almost painful to see.
Almost.
"But you can have this," she said.
She reached into her breast pocket, and pulled a single laminated card. She passed it along, and Charles took hold with shaking fingers. She watched him read the fine print, and slowly, the confusion settled in.
"I thought you said I wouldn't get your number?" He joked.
Explain.
"You didn't, this is the number of the Doctor that you haven't tried yet." Fortuna said.
Charles rolls his eyes "Yeah, ok, what does this doc specialize in?"
"Curing the impossible."
Charles leaned back in his chair. A second passed, then two, finally he broke out into laughter.
"Am I being punked?"
Redirect.
"Think what you might, but some of us nines actually take a longer look than you might think," Fortuna said.
She kicked off the railing and made steps toward the other end of the bridge "You can blow it off, but you're not the first to be cured. We want to help people, and you're someone worth helping."
Charles blinked.
"...You think so?"
Step back, respond.
"I know so," she smiled.
It felt… better than the other did.
"Give us a call, and I guarantee that you'll get the help you need."
Step back.
She takes another step, and in the corner of her eye Fortuna sees the gears spinning in his head. Charles looked at the card, then to Fortuna, then he shook his head "Will it be dangerous?"
Lie.
She shook her head.
"No."
Charles nods, and rubs his chin. He teeth grit, and he lets out a broken sigh.
"I'll…. think about it." He said.
Respond.
"I look forward to hearing from you Charles." Fortuna said.
Go forward, don't stop.
Obeying the path, she avoided several bikers, and even more onlookers. Never once did the path allow her to turn to look. To confirm, to make sure that he wasn't coughing again.
"Is it dangerous?"
That's what he asked.
She lied, she said it was going to be fine. But that wasn't the case. No matter what happened, the poor boy was going to hate her in the end.
And the path didn't stop that feeling from creeping in.
June 1st, 1985
Cauldron
For the first time since the path opened itself to her, Fortuna felt an emotion truly overwhelm her.
That emotion...
This disgust at the pitiful sight in front of her.
This was the path that was going to lead to salvation? What kind of sick joke was that? Out of the dozens of chosen, only two had been true successes.The others… were not as fortunate. Her agent was toying with her, it had to be to let something like this happen.
The boy, if you could even call it was a boy anymore, was reaching out a malformed limb towards them. His flesh was bubbling and popping, swelling in different areas before returning to a liquidy puss. She could barely make out the joints, and the only thing indicating it's face was it's eyes. Manton had the decency to visible hold back the bile building in his throat. Doctor mother had no such kindness.
"Another failure?" Doctor Mother asked.
"Obviously," came Manton's curt reply. "The subject was suspected to gain a form of combustion control. Clearly this was not the case. My mixture must have been off in some calculation. At least, the amount of agent used was minimal. The total loss is minimal, with roughly 92% of the original source still operable."
As they talked the boy clawed at his cage, drops of water streaming down what remained of his face.
She didn't need a step to understanding this. Fortuna reached behind her to where her glock was waiting.
Aim, fire.
Two snaps cracked the air in the small room, and the boy stopped clawing at his cage. Neither Manton or Doctor Mother flinched, despite being so close to the sound. Ignoring whatever facial expressions the two of them were making, Fortuna holstered her glock and stared unnervingly still at the two of them.
Explain.
"The path demanded a more convenient state for transport."
Doctor Mother seemed to refused the statement before raising a questioning brow.
"Were no beneficial paths open that insured its survival?"
Fortuna shook her head "The subject would achieve the bare minimum level of competence required. Overall, his effect would have been insignificant at best, utterly ignorable at worst. His agent was leaving him, no hope of salvage." she replied.
Maton raised a curious eyebrow, but Doctor Mother simply nodded.
"Very well, dispose of the remains." she ordered.
With that, she walked through the lone door, leaving the two remaining heads of Cauldron alone. Manton cleared his throat, shifting through papers as Fortuna opened the cage. The corpse squelched as the bars pushed it back, breaking through the fragile bones and tissue.
Call, wait.
Fortuna reached up and clicked the receiver in her ear.
"Door me."
Space flashed in front of her, the door tearing itself into existence right under the corpse. It opens, and the smell of the sea filled the room. Fortuna watches without reaction as the corpse slips into the door, sails into the air, and crashing into the sea below. The crack as he hits the water is just as powerful if he had hit concrete. What little remained of his corpse became little more than paste, quickly dissolving and falling apart in the salty waters.
"I find it hard to believe that a power that sees all and knows all has no use for a malfunctioning project." Manton wondered aloud.
Question.
Fortuna looked back to Manton.
"Is there something you wish to comment on, Doctor Manton?"
The good doctor simply shrugged.
"Nothing that your path won't simply find a justification for."
He pushed up his glasses and glances behind at the sea through the door.
"But if I were to make a comment, I would say that simply allowing the subject to live could prove whether our hypothesis was correct. That would have been the more prudent action. Additionally, out of the twenty three failed experiments, this is the only situation that you decided required immediate... 'relief'."
Elaborate.
"What makes you think it was relief for the subject?"
"Given your actions, I would say that the relief was for you, not the subject," Manton clarified.
Indifference.
Fortuna went still. A marble statue would have shown more emotion. Manton picked a file off the table, leafing through the papers as he headed out of the room.
"Despite your path, some people just can't do this line of work. No matter how the agent affects their mental state."
Fortuna felt her hand twitch, a singular emotion straying ever so slightly from the path. She saw Manton shift his gaze, and she followed it to the offending appendage.
A small, disappointed frown crossed Manton's face as he finally opened the door and steps out.
"But, strategy is not my area of expertise. Forgive me if I have overstepped my station, Deputy Director."
The door clicked shut, leaving Fortuna alone.
She lifted up a hand and the path allowed it.
Fortuna had been running off the path for years now, but… it hadn't been as perfect as it could. Deep down, the little girl from the village was still trying to change things for the better. For everyone.
It was admirable, but that wouldn't do if she wanted to complete the path. A single second of disparity would cost time. Time was something this world didn't have, not when the Warrior remained in hiding.
Efficacy beyond the path was required. Cut out the loose ends, and become perfect.
Reevaluate.
The mission was absolute. If she didn't complete the path, everyone, on every earth would suffer.
Leave one, save a hundred, that's what she was doing right?
No, that's what the path was doing. Fortuna on the other hand, she was adding to many extra steps. Steps that she wanted, but didn't need.
Discard.
Personal attachment to any of the subjects would result in additional steps.
Additional steps required time.
Time wasn't a luxury that she had.
She had to save the world… no matter what she had to lose.
Something needed to be disposed. Utter removal of the offending affliction.
Understand.
No. It wasn't simply one thing that needed to be removed, it all had to go.
The useless experience.
The attachment.
The innocence.
It all needed to go.
Only information, and experience could remain.
Anything less would insult the woman that cared for that little girl in the village. She wouldn't want her daughter to do these things. Commit these atrocities, and say that it was all for the sake of humanity. She wouldn't want her to use her name.
If anyone else could, she would let them do it, keep that name pure and good.
But there was no one else.
Only her.
A smile of farewell came to that little girl as she closed her eyes, and followed the path one last time.
Remake.
Her eye swelled, a tear making its way down as they left her.
The feeling of cold, the impatience, the dependency, the dream, the name.
The hope.
The fear.
The weakness.
It all and more left her, leaving something else behind.
Continue.
The Deputy Director of Cauldron flexed her hand. She watched the digits move, and for every muscle that moved, a million more paths appeared. They came effortlessly, ignoring all but the most essential steps.
Because anything less was no longer needed. Because while Fortuna required step by step instructions to reach the outcome she wished...
Contessa had already completed the mission.
August 15th, 1986
Cauldron
Remote.
She watched silently in the corner as the newest sucess walked through the marble halls of their base. It took over a year of preparation, even with the path setting everything up. Hundreds of possible candidates ignored, thousands of potential clients either ignored or dealt with. He, and he alone was the exception to whatever rule the path had set up.
Every path put her here, and none of them had her moving. Only observing, warning Doctor Mother if needed. But going by the wide grin on the client's gray features, everything was operating perfectly.
"So… " the client, Nicholas says, "I'm supposed to… what exactly?"
"Simply use your newfound gifts however you see fit," Doctor Mother started "but remember the consequences of your actions-."
"They affect you too? You wound me Doctor. Why would a client sully the reputation of his supplier?" Nicholas asked.
Doctor Mother simply scribbles a note on her clipboard as Nicholas' eyes darted around, finally landing on Contessa.
Still.
Every muscle in her body went rigid, she couldn't even move her eyes if she wanted to. By all appearances, she didn't have any defining features. Just a woman in a suit, a bodyguard, anyone would dismiss her as a member of the organization and continue speaking to Doctor Mother about their purchase.
That's how it went with last two clients, and it would happen with this one as well.
"Nevertheless, your newfound abilities would attract a certain kind of attention," Doctor Mother continued. "Unless you want to be removed, I would suggest a low profile if you can manage it."
Nickolas stopped in his tracks and smiles ruefully at the doctor "Removed? Oh, I like the sound of that."
"I doubt that." Doctor Mother states.
"Oh, not the removal part," Nickolas clarified "I mean everything that'll come before that."
He reached out a hand and spat onto the back of his own palm. The saliva landed on his skin, then it flickered. It was like watching a tape flashing into static. The water mark was there, it flickers for a second, then it wasn't there anymore. The only thing that remained on his hand, was a small grey blob, like a malformed birthmark. Contessa found it rather unsightly, but Nickolas stared at it like he was looking at pure gold.
"If it happens, it'll be a fun chase. But I'm sure it will never come to that. Because of course, you'll definitely stop me." Nicholas smirked.
"If that's all, you can be transported anywhere you wish," Doctor Mother stated blankly.
Nickolas' smirk flickered, turning into a shade of annoyance, but he kept it on his face.
"New York, if you can manage it."
Doctor Mother nodded and glanced at Contessa.
Follow.
She felt the soft click of the receiver in her ear as she said the order.
"Door me."
In front of the doctor and Nicholas, the door shimmered into existence. She couldn't see it, but on the other side there would be a side alleyway, and the bustling streets of the great city wouldn't be too far away. Envy ripples across Nicholas as he eyes the door. He gave Doctor Mother a half bow that was deliberately incomplete. As he walked towards the door, his eyes darted back to Contessa.
She didn't move, the path wouldn't allow her. But that didn't stop Nicholas from pointing. "You're going to be fun to play with, I just know it."
He all but skipped through and the door closed behind him. Finally, the path loosened her muscles allowing her to look at Doctor Mother. The head looked almost wary, but she hid it well as she always did.
"Keep an eye on him," She ordered "A very, very, close eye."
Contessa didn't move, but the order was given. She watched Doctor Mother leave, and let the path guide her once more.
Step away.
Locate Charles
Convince him
August 20th, 1986
Los Angeles
The door creaked open and Doctor Mother stepped out. She didn't even bat an eye as the boy behind her thrashed in his bed, as the agent forced itself through him. The head of cauldron glanced at Contessa, her waiting enforcer.
"There will be no more pure agent failures brought back. A single shot, no more."
Contessa nodded and the good doctor moved down the hallway where the second recipient waited. As soon as she was gone contessa cracked the door open and stepped inside. The boy, the one who took Intensity, slowly stopped his thrashing. The tears were fresh, and his cancer ridden body twitched from the sudden invasion. Like all the others he was in pain, but he wouldn't feel it. It would drive him insane, otherwise.
With practiced hands, the quiet sound of a bullet slid into the chamber of a waiting glock.
If it was any conciliation, the feeling would not last long.
Wait. Prepare.
Contessa took the two steps required to get over to the bed. With a single hand she gently moved his head back onto the pillow, ensuring his head was protected form what comes next..
Then, she pressed the glock against his forehead. His power would attempt to save him, blocking the sound, but accomplishing nothing else.
Wait.
Contessa became a statue as the seconds clicked on. Her finger rested on the trigger, and the barrel held down his head.
She had read his file just like all others who the path demanded received the vials. This boy... he had weeks, not months. His daily walks to enjoy the company of his partner in damnation left his muscles overworked and susceptible to his illness. Within two weeks, he would have lost the ability to walk. Within three, he wouldn't be able to do much as move his hand. Within four, he would be nothing more than a name on a list.
Kindness would kill him, which made him the perfect subject. Even if he does fail, at least a potter couldn't have asked for better clay.
Secure.
Still keeping her finger firmly on the trigger, Contessa held onto the frame of the bed with her free hand while she snaked her foot around the bed post.
The second she was secure, all hell broke loose.
His eyes shot open, golden light seeping out. His back arched in an unnatural angle, his mouth moving to scream but no sound came out. The room shook as the golden light enveloped everything that wasn't held down. The monitor, the visitor chairs, even him and Contessa. The golden glow spread across his body, enveloping his feet, his hands, his chest and stomach. Soon, every vital area in his body was glowing with power.
His feet slowly moved up, ignoring the lack of muscle and the forces of gravity that should have kept them down. But despite what logic dictated should have happened, his feet were followed closely by the rest of his legs. The rest of his body would have followed suit, but Contessa forced the muzzle of her glock on his forehead. But one hand wasn't enough.
Force.
Abandoning her first restraint, Contessa put her entire weight into the glock as the bed shuddered. She felt the entire thing lift into the air, despite anything that she did.
Then, the light went out, and everything came crashing down. The edges of the bed dug into the hospital floor, and the boy innocently bounced on the mattress as if nothing was wrong. Contessa felt her heart race for a second, then it snapped back into reality. Silence reigned, and for the longest time, nothing appeared.
Notice.
A second later, the heart monitor beeped.
Contessa blinked, actual surprise making it's way through for the first time in years. She checked the tools. Heart rate normal, breathing normal, no anomalies.
Contessa holstered her glock and stared down at the boy. The light was gone, but as she watched, the color began to return to his skin.
For the barest moments, she and the path smiled.
A success.
Prepare Warden.
May 6th, 1983
Cauldron
It's honestly disappointing, looking at them all. Every single one of them sitting in their vials.
All those agents.
So many paths, all leading to salvation.
All of them to stop the cycle that would ravage the world. The visions that would haunt her dreams, if she could have those anymore.
It took an entire year, an entire year of working, studying, and following the path to the letter. But finally, they were completed.
Wait.
There was no clock, but Fortuna counted the seconds. Everything was still as they ticked by. As the fourteen second mark drew near, the handle of the door started to open. Fifteen seconds, the hinges started to creek. Sixteen, begin to enter the room. Sixteen point five, finish action.
"Are they finished?" Doctor Mother asked.
Answer.
"The first set, yes, but the remainder will require more time." Fortuna answered.
She took a vial, holding it against the light for Doctor Mother to see. The light passes through, sending sparkles showing across the laboratory floor. "But this, and others, are ready."
A flick of her hand, and the vial was waiting in the palm of Fortuna's hand. The good doctor didn't take it, only looking over it and the girl holding it.
"Can they fail?" Doctor Mother asked.
Answer.
Fortuna nodded.
"There is a possibility that the agents will manifest."
Doctor Mother considered this for the briefest of moments. "Then find recipients, willing or unwilling."
Fortuna nodded, and the paths opened up.
Secure.
She placed the vial back into it's station, closing the case and clicking the locks into place.
Step back.
Leave.
June 2nd, 1984
Denver Colorado
As far as hospitals went, it wasn't the worst. The nurses were kind, their paths free of harm to themselves or their patients. That could be changed, but that wasn't why Fortuna was there. The first path, all of the steps lead to this hospital, at this time, and this room. Special care unit 108, the furthest from the welcoming lobby, but the closest to the emergency surgery rooms.
The door creaks open, and Fortuna stepped inside to find the sorry state of the first agent. His eyes were burned forever shut, his skin little more than bruised parchment paper. His hospital gown barely was hanging on as his chest slowly rose and fell. The sight of him made Fortuna grip the edge of the doorframe.
But that made her stay there for another two seconds, putting her behind the projected path. Despite that delay, the path simply reacted as it always did.
Move.
Fortuna's shoes clicked against the floor as she approached. The boy in the bed did nothing as she did, and he wouldn't, not until the next step.
Tap once.
Slowly, she raised a gloved hand and touched the base of his forearm. The effect was instant. The appendage twitched, before furiously tapping against the edge of his arm rest. The pattern goes on for several seconds before repeating.
Understand.
-. ..- .-. ... . --..-- / .. ... / - .... .- - / -.-- --- ..- ..--..
Nurse, is that you?
Respond
Fortuna raised a finger, and slowly tapped out the rhythm on his hand as lightly as she could.
-. ---
No.
The boy shivered in his bed, his heart monitor beeping ever faster as he tapped on her finger.
- .... . -. / .-- .... --- / .- .-. . / -.-- --- ..- ..--..
Then, who are you?
Respond.
... --- -- . --- -. . / .-- .... --- / .-- .- -. - ... / - --- / .... . .-.. .--. / -.-- --- ..- .-.-.-
Someone who wants to help you.
May 28th, 1985
Confluence Park, Denver.
Walk.
The park was busy this time of day, students rushing to their classes and families wanting to get a single moment of togetherness.
Stop.
Fortuna stopped, narrowly avoiding a bike speeding past her. At least, when he passed, the target finally showed himself. For a given value of showing of course.
Dozens of people passed by him every second, but he was alone on the bridge. His wheelchair was locked in place, by his own volition as he watched the river below. His blonde hair was trying and failing to grow out. His arms were little more than sticks with pale skin covering them.
A pile of rocks sat in his lap. Lazily, he took one and weakly threw it over the edge. It skipped once across the water's surface, then it landed with a thump, disappearing under the river's surface. It was barely ten feet, but the boy smiled at the small accomplishment.
Attract.
Fortuna glanced down, and picked up the smallest stone within reach. She tossed it once, testing the weight, all the while keeping the boy in sight. He took hold of another stone, and readied his arm.
Throw.
With a flick of her wrist, Fortuna sent the stone spiraling to the waters down below. The boy freezes, his motion stopping dead as he watches the stone skips once, twice, thrice, then a fourth time before going into the water. He turned as quickly as his body would allow. The second his eyes landed on Fortuna, a comical whistle sprung out.
Smile.
The smile felt fake, every inch of it the product of the path. But, Fortuna couldn't say no. Even if she wanted to.
Step forward, explain.
"You don't need to throw it harder," she explains "You just have to get a spin on it so it always lands on the flat side."
Approach.
She took another few steps, landing at the boys right. Fortuna leaned against the railing, getting comfortable on the metal as well as she could. As she moved, the boy didn't even blink. If she were any other woman, she might have taken offence to the small amount of drool about to make it's way down his lip.
At least all those steps to give herself a makeover had a worthwhile effect.
Contact.
She raised a hand, breaking the boy out of his stupor. She kept up her smile, to the point that it started to hurt "Fortuna."
The boy blinks and flushes red as he takes hold of the offered hand "C-Charles."
Repond.
"Nice to meet you Charles, you here alone? I see the wheelchair, and I have a bad-"
Stop speaking.
Charles threw up a shaking hand, cutting Fortuna off "No no it's fi-" He coughs, a sick, cracking sound coming from his throat. His skin paled as Fortuna watched him pull back his hand, a small puddle of blood in his hand.
React.
Fortuna's eyes shot open. She put a hand on his back, supporting him as best she could.
"Oh my god are you going to be-"
Stop.
"No no I'm fine!" Charles yelled defiantly.
Respond.
"You don't look fine," Fortuna points out. "Do you need to see a doctor?"
Her comment seemed to spark a chuckle in Charles. He kept a hand close by, but he smiled effortlessly, without a care in the world.
"Yeah, I've seen all of them, and I've ended up with three. But I got to say, the medicine they put me on really isn't doing the job if it's making me screw up talking with someone like you."
Question.
"Someone like me?"
Charles smiled.
"Most nines usually give me one look and go on their merry way. Honestly I'm surprised I'm lasting this long next to you. My heart's racing. I think I'm going to have another attack."
Chide.
"I guess I should be going then, that would be better for you, right?" She asked, the sound almost innocent in a way.
Charles' smile flickered, but it didn't fade. He didn't want it to fade, so it stayed despite the reaction.
"I-I… yeah. I guess you can." Charles said, defeated.
He perked up a moment later.
"I don't suppose I could get your number after all of this right?"
Respond.
Fortuna shook her head, and the downcast look that hits Charles is almost painful to see.
Almost.
"But you can have this," she said.
She reached into her breast pocket, and pulled a single laminated card. She passed it along, and Charles took hold with shaking fingers. She watched him read the fine print, and slowly, the confusion settled in.
"I thought you said I wouldn't get your number?" He joked.
Explain.
"You didn't, this is the number of the Doctor that you haven't tried yet." Fortuna said.
Charles rolls his eyes "Yeah, ok, what does this doc specialize in?"
"Curing the impossible."
Charles leaned back in his chair. A second passed, then two, finally he broke out into laughter.
"Am I being punked?"
Redirect.
"Think what you might, but some of us nines actually take a longer look than you might think," Fortuna said.
She kicked off the railing and made steps toward the other end of the bridge "You can blow it off, but you're not the first to be cured. We want to help people, and you're someone worth helping."
Charles blinked.
"...You think so?"
Step back, respond.
"I know so," she smiled.
It felt… better than the other did.
"Give us a call, and I guarantee that you'll get the help you need."
Step back.
She takes another step, and in the corner of her eye Fortuna sees the gears spinning in his head. Charles looked at the card, then to Fortuna, then he shook his head "Will it be dangerous?"
Lie.
She shook her head.
"No."
Charles nods, and rubs his chin. He teeth grit, and he lets out a broken sigh.
"I'll…. think about it." He said.
Respond.
"I look forward to hearing from you Charles." Fortuna said.
Go forward, don't stop.
Obeying the path, she avoided several bikers, and even more onlookers. Never once did the path allow her to turn to look. To confirm, to make sure that he wasn't coughing again.
"Is it dangerous?"
That's what he asked.
She lied, she said it was going to be fine. But that wasn't the case. No matter what happened, the poor boy was going to hate her in the end.
And the path didn't stop that feeling from creeping in.
June 1st, 1985
Cauldron
For the first time since the path opened itself to her, Fortuna felt an emotion truly overwhelm her.
That emotion...
This disgust at the pitiful sight in front of her.
This was the path that was going to lead to salvation? What kind of sick joke was that? Out of the dozens of chosen, only two had been true successes.The others… were not as fortunate. Her agent was toying with her, it had to be to let something like this happen.
The boy, if you could even call it was a boy anymore, was reaching out a malformed limb towards them. His flesh was bubbling and popping, swelling in different areas before returning to a liquidy puss. She could barely make out the joints, and the only thing indicating it's face was it's eyes. Manton had the decency to visible hold back the bile building in his throat. Doctor mother had no such kindness.
"Another failure?" Doctor Mother asked.
"Obviously," came Manton's curt reply. "The subject was suspected to gain a form of combustion control. Clearly this was not the case. My mixture must have been off in some calculation. At least, the amount of agent used was minimal. The total loss is minimal, with roughly 92% of the original source still operable."
As they talked the boy clawed at his cage, drops of water streaming down what remained of his face.
She didn't need a step to understanding this. Fortuna reached behind her to where her glock was waiting.
Aim, fire.
Two snaps cracked the air in the small room, and the boy stopped clawing at his cage. Neither Manton or Doctor Mother flinched, despite being so close to the sound. Ignoring whatever facial expressions the two of them were making, Fortuna holstered her glock and stared unnervingly still at the two of them.
Explain.
"The path demanded a more convenient state for transport."
Doctor Mother seemed to refused the statement before raising a questioning brow.
"Were no beneficial paths open that insured its survival?"
Fortuna shook her head "The subject would achieve the bare minimum level of competence required. Overall, his effect would have been insignificant at best, utterly ignorable at worst. His agent was leaving him, no hope of salvage." she replied.
Maton raised a curious eyebrow, but Doctor Mother simply nodded.
"Very well, dispose of the remains." she ordered.
With that, she walked through the lone door, leaving the two remaining heads of Cauldron alone. Manton cleared his throat, shifting through papers as Fortuna opened the cage. The corpse squelched as the bars pushed it back, breaking through the fragile bones and tissue.
Call, wait.
Fortuna reached up and clicked the receiver in her ear.
"Door me."
Space flashed in front of her, the door tearing itself into existence right under the corpse. It opens, and the smell of the sea filled the room. Fortuna watches without reaction as the corpse slips into the door, sails into the air, and crashing into the sea below. The crack as he hits the water is just as powerful if he had hit concrete. What little remained of his corpse became little more than paste, quickly dissolving and falling apart in the salty waters.
"I find it hard to believe that a power that sees all and knows all has no use for a malfunctioning project." Manton wondered aloud.
Question.
Fortuna looked back to Manton.
"Is there something you wish to comment on, Doctor Manton?"
The good doctor simply shrugged.
"Nothing that your path won't simply find a justification for."
He pushed up his glasses and glances behind at the sea through the door.
"But if I were to make a comment, I would say that simply allowing the subject to live could prove whether our hypothesis was correct. That would have been the more prudent action. Additionally, out of the twenty three failed experiments, this is the only situation that you decided required immediate... 'relief'."
Elaborate.
"What makes you think it was relief for the subject?"
"Given your actions, I would say that the relief was for you, not the subject," Manton clarified.
Indifference.
Fortuna went still. A marble statue would have shown more emotion. Manton picked a file off the table, leafing through the papers as he headed out of the room.
"Despite your path, some people just can't do this line of work. No matter how the agent affects their mental state."
Fortuna felt her hand twitch, a singular emotion straying ever so slightly from the path. She saw Manton shift his gaze, and she followed it to the offending appendage.
A small, disappointed frown crossed Manton's face as he finally opened the door and steps out.
"But, strategy is not my area of expertise. Forgive me if I have overstepped my station, Deputy Director."
The door clicked shut, leaving Fortuna alone.
She lifted up a hand and the path allowed it.
Fortuna had been running off the path for years now, but… it hadn't been as perfect as it could. Deep down, the little girl from the village was still trying to change things for the better. For everyone.
It was admirable, but that wouldn't do if she wanted to complete the path. A single second of disparity would cost time. Time was something this world didn't have, not when the Warrior remained in hiding.
Efficacy beyond the path was required. Cut out the loose ends, and become perfect.
Reevaluate.
The mission was absolute. If she didn't complete the path, everyone, on every earth would suffer.
Leave one, save a hundred, that's what she was doing right?
No, that's what the path was doing. Fortuna on the other hand, she was adding to many extra steps. Steps that she wanted, but didn't need.
Discard.
Personal attachment to any of the subjects would result in additional steps.
Additional steps required time.
Time wasn't a luxury that she had.
She had to save the world… no matter what she had to lose.
Something needed to be disposed. Utter removal of the offending affliction.
Understand.
No. It wasn't simply one thing that needed to be removed, it all had to go.
The useless experience.
The attachment.
The innocence.
It all needed to go.
Only information, and experience could remain.
Anything less would insult the woman that cared for that little girl in the village. She wouldn't want her daughter to do these things. Commit these atrocities, and say that it was all for the sake of humanity. She wouldn't want her to use her name.
If anyone else could, she would let them do it, keep that name pure and good.
But there was no one else.
Only her.
A smile of farewell came to that little girl as she closed her eyes, and followed the path one last time.
Remake.
Her eye swelled, a tear making its way down as they left her.
The feeling of cold, the impatience, the dependency, the dream, the name.
The hope.
The fear.
The weakness.
It all and more left her, leaving something else behind.
Continue.
The Deputy Director of Cauldron flexed her hand. She watched the digits move, and for every muscle that moved, a million more paths appeared. They came effortlessly, ignoring all but the most essential steps.
Because anything less was no longer needed. Because while Fortuna required step by step instructions to reach the outcome she wished...
Contessa had already completed the mission.
August 15th, 1986
Cauldron
Remote.
She watched silently in the corner as the newest sucess walked through the marble halls of their base. It took over a year of preparation, even with the path setting everything up. Hundreds of possible candidates ignored, thousands of potential clients either ignored or dealt with. He, and he alone was the exception to whatever rule the path had set up.
Every path put her here, and none of them had her moving. Only observing, warning Doctor Mother if needed. But going by the wide grin on the client's gray features, everything was operating perfectly.
"So… " the client, Nicholas says, "I'm supposed to… what exactly?"
"Simply use your newfound gifts however you see fit," Doctor Mother started "but remember the consequences of your actions-."
"They affect you too? You wound me Doctor. Why would a client sully the reputation of his supplier?" Nicholas asked.
Doctor Mother simply scribbles a note on her clipboard as Nicholas' eyes darted around, finally landing on Contessa.
Still.
Every muscle in her body went rigid, she couldn't even move her eyes if she wanted to. By all appearances, she didn't have any defining features. Just a woman in a suit, a bodyguard, anyone would dismiss her as a member of the organization and continue speaking to Doctor Mother about their purchase.
That's how it went with last two clients, and it would happen with this one as well.
"Nevertheless, your newfound abilities would attract a certain kind of attention," Doctor Mother continued. "Unless you want to be removed, I would suggest a low profile if you can manage it."
Nickolas stopped in his tracks and smiles ruefully at the doctor "Removed? Oh, I like the sound of that."
"I doubt that." Doctor Mother states.
"Oh, not the removal part," Nickolas clarified "I mean everything that'll come before that."
He reached out a hand and spat onto the back of his own palm. The saliva landed on his skin, then it flickered. It was like watching a tape flashing into static. The water mark was there, it flickers for a second, then it wasn't there anymore. The only thing that remained on his hand, was a small grey blob, like a malformed birthmark. Contessa found it rather unsightly, but Nickolas stared at it like he was looking at pure gold.
"If it happens, it'll be a fun chase. But I'm sure it will never come to that. Because of course, you'll definitely stop me." Nicholas smirked.
"If that's all, you can be transported anywhere you wish," Doctor Mother stated blankly.
Nickolas' smirk flickered, turning into a shade of annoyance, but he kept it on his face.
"New York, if you can manage it."
Doctor Mother nodded and glanced at Contessa.
Follow.
She felt the soft click of the receiver in her ear as she said the order.
"Door me."
In front of the doctor and Nicholas, the door shimmered into existence. She couldn't see it, but on the other side there would be a side alleyway, and the bustling streets of the great city wouldn't be too far away. Envy ripples across Nicholas as he eyes the door. He gave Doctor Mother a half bow that was deliberately incomplete. As he walked towards the door, his eyes darted back to Contessa.
She didn't move, the path wouldn't allow her. But that didn't stop Nicholas from pointing. "You're going to be fun to play with, I just know it."
He all but skipped through and the door closed behind him. Finally, the path loosened her muscles allowing her to look at Doctor Mother. The head looked almost wary, but she hid it well as she always did.
"Keep an eye on him," She ordered "A very, very, close eye."
Contessa didn't move, but the order was given. She watched Doctor Mother leave, and let the path guide her once more.
Step away.
Locate Charles
Convince him
August 20th, 1986
Los Angeles
The door creaked open and Doctor Mother stepped out. She didn't even bat an eye as the boy behind her thrashed in his bed, as the agent forced itself through him. The head of cauldron glanced at Contessa, her waiting enforcer.
"There will be no more pure agent failures brought back. A single shot, no more."
Contessa nodded and the good doctor moved down the hallway where the second recipient waited. As soon as she was gone contessa cracked the door open and stepped inside. The boy, the one who took Intensity, slowly stopped his thrashing. The tears were fresh, and his cancer ridden body twitched from the sudden invasion. Like all the others he was in pain, but he wouldn't feel it. It would drive him insane, otherwise.
With practiced hands, the quiet sound of a bullet slid into the chamber of a waiting glock.
If it was any conciliation, the feeling would not last long.
Wait. Prepare.
Contessa took the two steps required to get over to the bed. With a single hand she gently moved his head back onto the pillow, ensuring his head was protected form what comes next..
Then, she pressed the glock against his forehead. His power would attempt to save him, blocking the sound, but accomplishing nothing else.
Wait.
Contessa became a statue as the seconds clicked on. Her finger rested on the trigger, and the barrel held down his head.
She had read his file just like all others who the path demanded received the vials. This boy... he had weeks, not months. His daily walks to enjoy the company of his partner in damnation left his muscles overworked and susceptible to his illness. Within two weeks, he would have lost the ability to walk. Within three, he wouldn't be able to do much as move his hand. Within four, he would be nothing more than a name on a list.
Kindness would kill him, which made him the perfect subject. Even if he does fail, at least a potter couldn't have asked for better clay.
Secure.
Still keeping her finger firmly on the trigger, Contessa held onto the frame of the bed with her free hand while she snaked her foot around the bed post.
The second she was secure, all hell broke loose.
His eyes shot open, golden light seeping out. His back arched in an unnatural angle, his mouth moving to scream but no sound came out. The room shook as the golden light enveloped everything that wasn't held down. The monitor, the visitor chairs, even him and Contessa. The golden glow spread across his body, enveloping his feet, his hands, his chest and stomach. Soon, every vital area in his body was glowing with power.
His feet slowly moved up, ignoring the lack of muscle and the forces of gravity that should have kept them down. But despite what logic dictated should have happened, his feet were followed closely by the rest of his legs. The rest of his body would have followed suit, but Contessa forced the muzzle of her glock on his forehead. But one hand wasn't enough.
Force.
Abandoning her first restraint, Contessa put her entire weight into the glock as the bed shuddered. She felt the entire thing lift into the air, despite anything that she did.
Then, the light went out, and everything came crashing down. The edges of the bed dug into the hospital floor, and the boy innocently bounced on the mattress as if nothing was wrong. Contessa felt her heart race for a second, then it snapped back into reality. Silence reigned, and for the longest time, nothing appeared.
Notice.
A second later, the heart monitor beeped.
Contessa blinked, actual surprise making it's way through for the first time in years. She checked the tools. Heart rate normal, breathing normal, no anomalies.
Contessa holstered her glock and stared down at the boy. The light was gone, but as she watched, the color began to return to his skin.
For the barest moments, she and the path smiled.
A success.
Prepare Warden.
A/N: This was probably one of the hardest things I've had to write. Getting into Fortuna's head was just... ugh.
The Singularity
IKnowNothing
....What?
- Location
- I got lost so.....Where are we?
Date: December 13th, 1986
Time: 16:53
Location: Singularity
⛉ Builder_0_Future Program 1.24
Seed 3.0.7.4-3 9801_DG5
Login:HEAD; Origin_Unit: 4.82
User: M_SandStorm
Password: ******************
Logging in…
Inputting, Serenity Directive
Reconfiguring Personal Details:
FILE: Schedule. Personal.
◈ DAY_PLANNER: MEETING
◈ TASKS: PROJECTS 73-81
FILE: Singularity Employees. Security access level E
◈ STAFF
◈ CEO: Longshot
◈ Administrator: Controller
◈ Deputy: Alchemy
FILE: PROJECTS: Security access level B
◈ OMEGA PROJECT_STARLIGHT
◈ PROJECT_HORIZON
◈ PROJECT_DIVINE
◈ PROJECT_DELIVERY
◈ PROJECT_ABSOLUTION
◈ PROJECT_ SINGULARITY
FILE: RESOURCES: Security access level A
◈ DISCRETIONARY_BUDGET
◈ PURCHASES
FILE: REQUIRED ACQUISITIONS: Security access level A
◈ METALS (General)
◈ CHEMICALS (General)
FILE: CLIENTS: Security access level S
◈ GOVERNMENT'S (General)
◈ Symphony
◈ Bishop
◈ Sovereign
◈ Cauldron
FILE: HOSTILES Security access level A
◈ HOSTILES (General)
◈ SLAUGHTERHOUSE
◈ PROJECT ASCENSION
◈ INDEPENDENT (General)
FILE: UNKNOWN VARIABLES: Security access level S
◈ FOUNDATION
◈ CAULDRON
RUNNING VIRUS CLEANER 51.2…
ALL FILES CLEAN
BEGIN STARTUP SEQUENCE
Smell.
For some reason, that was always the first sensation to return to me. Not the auditory, or visual sensory nerves, the oratory. It should be visual, but no, I have to take in the smell of oil and smoldering metal. Yet another program that I have to remake. The other senses return, one by one until I could feel the steam on the biometal that made up my skin and the sound of my charging chamber opening.
Slowly, I lift a hand, and force my thumb and forefinger against one another. The digits snap together, resulting in a swift crack that only lasts an instant.
"0.000023 second delay from previous start up test. Most likely the backup programs are still in their download phases." I grumble.
Lifting myself up from the chamber, I send a single signal to the machines around him. The air swirls, and soon I stand in the most professional suit that I could put into the programming.
Loosening the collar, I took a step out of his charging station. The second I do, the sounds of the workshop instantly register. Below me, machines and workers go about their business as normal. Each one of them inventing a product that only they could make. Most of them never stopped to eat, or even sleep until I or one of the administrators reminded them of the failures of the human body. Then again, I had abandoned those failures at the earliest opportunity. A single snap, and the cameras set up around the facility send me their information on everything that had transpired as he was recharging.
DOWNLOADING FILES
DOWNLOADING…
DOWNLOADING…
DOWNLOAD SUCCESSFUL
UPLOADING DATA.
Interesting, ahead of schedule.
"Operation," a computer in the back of my vision snaps into place, "Increase the salary of Alchemy for his work on HORIZON by 5 percent. Inform him that an additional 5 percent can be acquired should his timetable continue."
REMINDER: PRIORITY MEETING IN 5 MINUTES
Ah yes, the new client.
I gripped the base of his suit as slowly, every inch of me began to dissolve. At first, the relocation program resulted in various states. Sometimes parts of me would go off target, other times I would take minutes to reform. Now, the feeling of your entire body peeling itself apart and forming back together felt as good as a cool breeze. I order my swarm to ride the winds of the workshop towards the head office. I don't bother circling the edges to find the door, I let myself go through the air vents. But before I enter, a quick scan.
SCANNING...
SCANNING..
SCAN COMPLETE.
Perimitaty senses indicate only one other occupant.
First hypothesis: Longshot.
The prerecorded landing zone flashes in my collective vision. The particles of sand descended and joined together. As I reformed, the smell of tea wafted into the air to greet me. I opened my eyes, and as expected, sitting before me was a rather unassuming looking man, plain in almost every fashion, save the slight grin on his face. The Leader of the Singularity, the genius Longshot. He was probably the only welcoming element in the room. In hindsight, using an old interrogation chamber wasn't the best place to use as a meeting room. Then again, there wasn't anywhere else to go left in the building before the more secure renovations could be completed.
"Apologies, the download took longer than expected." I say.
"One can only be so precise, I suppose," Longshot remarks.
"Precisely why I removed most of what caused the discord leading to imprecise results," I comment, with a slight grimace, "However it appears the process was… not what I wished it to be."
The materials weren't the best, but I was desperate after the break in. The second the money comes in, I'll request more.
"Just more room for improvement. Perfection is the goal, right?" Longshots comments with a smirk.
I raise a thoughtful eyebrow "Weren't you the one who said perfection was unattainable by human hands? Or was that Alchemy? Or am I having another memory glitch?"
"You can just check, you know," the man comments. I shrugs his shoulders before leaning back in my chair. My eyes flash as I the files open themselves.
FILE: MEMORY
INTERACTIONS: VARIOUS
OPENING
SEARCHING….
SEARCHING….
DATA NOT FOUND.
That's concerning, another glitch? "Hmm, another filter needs to be installed apparently." I say, "But, in other news, what was the name of our new client?"
Longshot doesn't even look up from his papers as he takes a sip of tea.
"Oracle." He looked ready to throw up just from saying it. "Pretty pretentious name, honestly."
"Allow me to remind you that Alchemy's first name was Creator," I remind him.
Very slowly, Longshot raises an eyebrow."Yes, and? I never said he wasn't pretentious too."
"Yet we pay him."
Longshot shrugs, a slight amount of brown hair falling from its neatly combed place with the action.
"Sometimes people need other people to be around just so they look better by comparison."
"And here I thought you kept me around for my looks," I joke.
There's a light laugh.
"No. Never that."
"You wound me," I say, my voice resonating with the sarcasm protocol.
"Funny," Longshot retorts, glancing down at a very plain wristwatch, held together with an elastic band, "and here I thought that was your imperfect internal systems."
A loose chuckle escapes me.
"Excuse you, I thought I was the machine here."
Longshot waves a hand imperiously. "I have been known to be called an inventing machine from time to time."
"You're chief executive officer, not chief inventor. That's my job."
"The modern company has to keep their positions fluid in order to survive in this competitive market. Cross-training, my man."
"Does your cross-training include dealmaking?" I ask as I make a show of looking at my watch, "Because our new client is going to arrive in four seconds."
As per my practically-not-human estimation, the lone door to the room opens in exactly four seconds. Standing there, eyebrow slightly raised, is a man with dim violet eyes. He looks like the kind of guy who was picked on for his stature, but smart enough to get around it. But honestly, I felt overdressed. He probably had the money, but he also probably had a speech too.
God I hate speeches.
"Am I interrupting something, or…?" The visitor, Oracle asked.
Longshot swatted the question away with the wave of his hand "Nah, nah. Nothing important, really. Please do come in. Or continue to stand in the hallway that doubles as a hyper dimensional travel device, because that works too."
Holding back a chuckle, I rose from my seat and straightens his suit. I held out a hand to the newcomer. The hand shifts, the skin warping over itself before my suit begins to shift as well. Then, the arm extends beyond human proportions, stopping right in front of Oracle for the offered handshake.
"Welcome to the Singularity Mr. Oracle. My name is Sandstorm, chief inventor." I say before casting a quick glance at the other occupant. "And this fine gentlemen here is our CEO, Longshot."
Surprisingly unperturbed by the gesture, Oracle takes the proffered hand in his and gives it a slight shake before making his way through the doorway. The second he does, the ligament retracts to normal proportions and I sit back down.
"Giving handshakes across the room? Could it be that your eyes are scopes, as well?"
Longshot just shakes his head in silent amusement. "Now that's just silly. What kind of person would experiment on something as delicate as the eyes?"
94% of the staff including yourself. I think.
"Who indeed?" Oracle replies smoothly, slipping his hand casually into his waist pocket as he moves across to an unoccupied chair. I watched him just like Longshot. Neither of us did anything to provoke action, keeping our faces neutral and bodies still. It was easy for me, one order and my entire form freezes in place. Longshot has the harder time, but he's done this enough times to know when to move. The only thing he does is flip a single, blue pen in one hand, end over end, over and over.
"I hear you're here to do business." Longshot states.
"If not, it was a shame to waste a trip through the hallway." I add.
Longshot gives a light laugh, not dissimilar to the laugh he'd given earlier. "Trips through our hallways are never wastes. You never know where you'll end up."
"12.486% chance to arrive somewhere habitable. 63.51% of landing somewhere within, on top of, or under some form of liquid. 24% of landing somewhere in between the two," I clarify.
"And," Longshot chimes in, ".004% chance of arriving at the center of the planet. Risk makes it all that much more exciting, don't you think?"
While the byplay goes on, we keep watching Oracle as he takes the opportunity to actually take his seat, and only properly gives a quiet smile when it wraps right back around to him.
"I'm all for calculated risks, of course, but for people in our… Professions? I suppose that would be it. For people in our professions, aren't taking risks essentially cheating?" Oracle asks.
Longshot merely shrugs again, some of that neatly combed hair falling again across his forehead, to the man's apparent disinterest. "If you're playing fair, you're playing to lose."
"And the Singularity was created to never lose," I say.
Across the table from them, Oracle nods almost approvingly before pulling his hand free, bringing up a small notebook with it. He discards it out on the table, and then leans forward just a little.
"Which is exactly why I've decided to come. I'm not very fond of losing."
"Most aren't," I says, my eyes never leaving the notebook.
Wordlessly, the CEO picks up the notebook, and begins to leaf through it, the neutral expression still in place. He leafs through it, all the way to the end, and by the end, the only change is a slight rise in eyebrow.
"Is that all? It's not a very big order," Longshot finally comments, looking back up with a smile.
He slides the notebook over to me, and I in turn picks it up and flashes through the pages. A list of request for projects. A personal defence device, bulletproofing, carbon nanotube surgery, eye color changing contacts? Weird, most people notice the pocket sized nukes and leave after taking a few of those.
"He's not wrong." I say.
Oracle drums his fingers on the table for a moment, slight smile still very much in place.
"That's true, although I should admit, some of the more interesting things I'd have wanted to request put my life too much at risk."
"Most tend not to take kindly to someone with a hand held bunker buster." Longshot quips.
Oracle's violet eyes flash a little as he leans back, hand still resting on the table. Reminder, build a program to have flashing eyes, intimidation and business proceedings might improve. I order.
"More than that, though, this is also a bit of an investment on my part into your venture here. I've already set aside eight hundred million for this, but I'm sure you already noticed that." Oracle states.
Eight hundred million? Well isn't that generous. Longshot glances over to me and I nod slightly.
FILE: LOCAL NEWS
TYPE: FINANCIAL
ORDER: SCAN AND RELOCATE
RELOCATING…
RELOCATING…
FILES RELOCATED.
PROCESSING COMPLETE.
"And several government's treasuries happen to be approaching the red zone. But that has nothing to do with this venture, correct?" I ask innocently.
The smug precog just smiles.
"Unlike some of your clients, I've made sure that all of this is entirely above board. You were interested in a few investments yourselves, correct?"
I just shrugged "A business is always open to investments. Eight hundred million is quite the investment. But before I start working, might I ask what you're going to be using these for?"
For the second time in as many minutes, Oracle's eyes flash. That's got to be part of his power, damn it's getting annoying.
"A healthy mixture of personal protection, intimidation factor, and just to show off the fact that I've entered the Singularity to the people that are smart enough to realize." He says before leaning back, smile shifting into a half-smirk.
So you'll only be impressing the people that don't even need us to level cities. Fair enough. I think.
"I may as well add that I'm willing to offer a secondary payment to money. You're both familiar with the rumors surrounding me, I presume?" Oracle asks.
"Rumours are rumours," Longshot states from his seat, flipping the pen again, "Give some substantiation, and we'll talk."
Oracle clicks his tongue.
"Substantiation? For most people, that would just involve stating something only that person would know, and they believe me. But… That could just as easily be attributed to reading minds, or very powerful perceptive abilities."
Oh god the speech is coming isn't it? MEMORY: STORE FOLLOWING SECONDS FOR LATER BUT REMOVE AUDITORY NERVES UNLESS IMPORTANT INFORMA-
"How about this… That inter-dimensional missile idea of yours?" Oracle asks.
MEMORY: BELAY PREVIOUS ACTION!
In an instant, he's got my full attention.
Oracle drums a few fingers on the table "Entirely possible, but only with the help of someone that hasn't…. awakened yet, given how you had to remove your previous lender. Though, with the right prodding, I could force it to happen earlier and introduce you, if you like."
Out of the corner of my eyes, Longshot freezes for a very short moment. I watch as his eyes glaze over, and a small smile traces over his features, before returning to the completely average, normal expression.
"Interesting." He flips the pen again, and catches it one final time, before setting it down on the table.
"I think we can work together, then. Assuming you're willing to provide that… Prodding, every once in awhile." Longshot states.
Oracle keeps smiling, leaning back into his chair. "Every once in awhile would be fine with me."
I clap his hands together, grabbing the notebook. "Then, I assume I best begin development?" I ask.
"If you would be so kind," Oracle replies, before taking a brief moment to think, "Though there's no need to consider this a rush order. My life won't be in any immediate danger for at least… Two months and eight days."
I smirk at that, but keep my gaze remained firmly on Longshot, who merely smiles a bit wider.
Confirmation. I bow respectfully to both of the rooms occupants. "Then, I shall begin. A pleasure Mr. Oracle. My report will be on your desk by day's end, Longshot."
I take a step back, and his skin shimmers once again. The grains peal away, sending my entire form into the air and through the vents that I entered in. I did however leave a few ears.
"You can see yourself to the door, mister Oracle." Longshot said, right before flicking something through the air. His pen most likely "Compliments of the Singularity. You know corporations these days. They all need complementary pens."
"Well, I can't quite say this will never come in handy…"
"What, were you expecting it to be a gun or a bomb or something? That's silly. Pens are for writing," Longshot comments, expression utterly neutral.
"I happen to agree, but…" There's a pause, he's probably smiling again.
"Never mind. It was a pleasure meeting you."
"It wasn't a pleasure meeting you, but for the sake of diplomacy we'll call it even. Now take my interdimensional hallway out of here, okay? I have stuff to do and you're all up in my headspace," the head of Singularity retorts.
I cut off the audio stream there. Not much else to listen to, but I'm not going to lie, I always like it when Longshot doesn't bother with the pleasantries.
I reform on the factory floor, but as I do, I go into something a little more comfortable. A simple shirt and lab coat, yes, remember the better times and all that.
The smell of gunpowder and sound of machinery rushes in. Gears churn, and crack against one another.
At least everything down here is working well. Now, who help with this project? Alchemy has talent, but he's busy working on HORIZON for Symphony. Some gas project, last I checked. A small smile graced my features, maybe it's time to give poor little Haywire another shot. Even if he did lose us the KGB with that little stunt of his. At least if he messed this project up, there was plenty of income to fix what happened.
Time: 16:53
Location: Singularity
⛉ Builder_0_Future Program 1.24
Seed 3.0.7.4-3 9801_DG5
Login:HEAD; Origin_Unit: 4.82
User: M_SandStorm
Password: ******************
Logging in…
Inputting, Serenity Directive
Reconfiguring Personal Details:
FILE: Schedule. Personal.
◈ DAY_PLANNER: MEETING
◈ TASKS: PROJECTS 73-81
FILE: Singularity Employees. Security access level E
◈ STAFF
◈ CEO: Longshot
◈ Administrator: Controller
◈ Deputy: Alchemy
FILE: PROJECTS: Security access level B
◈ OMEGA PROJECT_STARLIGHT
◈ PROJECT_HORIZON
◈ PROJECT_DIVINE
◈ PROJECT_DELIVERY
◈ PROJECT_ABSOLUTION
◈ PROJECT_ SINGULARITY
FILE: RESOURCES: Security access level A
◈ DISCRETIONARY_BUDGET
◈ PURCHASES
FILE: REQUIRED ACQUISITIONS: Security access level A
◈ METALS (General)
◈ CHEMICALS (General)
FILE: CLIENTS: Security access level S
◈ GOVERNMENT'S (General)
◈ Symphony
◈ Bishop
◈ Sovereign
◈ Cauldron
FILE: HOSTILES Security access level A
◈ HOSTILES (General)
◈ SLAUGHTERHOUSE
◈ PROJECT ASCENSION
◈ INDEPENDENT (General)
FILE: UNKNOWN VARIABLES: Security access level S
◈ FOUNDATION
◈ CAULDRON
RUNNING VIRUS CLEANER 51.2…
ALL FILES CLEAN
BEGIN STARTUP SEQUENCE
Smell.
For some reason, that was always the first sensation to return to me. Not the auditory, or visual sensory nerves, the oratory. It should be visual, but no, I have to take in the smell of oil and smoldering metal. Yet another program that I have to remake. The other senses return, one by one until I could feel the steam on the biometal that made up my skin and the sound of my charging chamber opening.
Slowly, I lift a hand, and force my thumb and forefinger against one another. The digits snap together, resulting in a swift crack that only lasts an instant.
"0.000023 second delay from previous start up test. Most likely the backup programs are still in their download phases." I grumble.
Lifting myself up from the chamber, I send a single signal to the machines around him. The air swirls, and soon I stand in the most professional suit that I could put into the programming.
Loosening the collar, I took a step out of his charging station. The second I do, the sounds of the workshop instantly register. Below me, machines and workers go about their business as normal. Each one of them inventing a product that only they could make. Most of them never stopped to eat, or even sleep until I or one of the administrators reminded them of the failures of the human body. Then again, I had abandoned those failures at the earliest opportunity. A single snap, and the cameras set up around the facility send me their information on everything that had transpired as he was recharging.
DOWNLOADING FILES
DOWNLOADING…
DOWNLOADING…
DOWNLOAD SUCCESSFUL
UPLOADING DATA.
Interesting, ahead of schedule.
"Operation," a computer in the back of my vision snaps into place, "Increase the salary of Alchemy for his work on HORIZON by 5 percent. Inform him that an additional 5 percent can be acquired should his timetable continue."
REMINDER: PRIORITY MEETING IN 5 MINUTES
Ah yes, the new client.
I gripped the base of his suit as slowly, every inch of me began to dissolve. At first, the relocation program resulted in various states. Sometimes parts of me would go off target, other times I would take minutes to reform. Now, the feeling of your entire body peeling itself apart and forming back together felt as good as a cool breeze. I order my swarm to ride the winds of the workshop towards the head office. I don't bother circling the edges to find the door, I let myself go through the air vents. But before I enter, a quick scan.
SCANNING...
SCANNING..
SCAN COMPLETE.
Perimitaty senses indicate only one other occupant.
First hypothesis: Longshot.
The prerecorded landing zone flashes in my collective vision. The particles of sand descended and joined together. As I reformed, the smell of tea wafted into the air to greet me. I opened my eyes, and as expected, sitting before me was a rather unassuming looking man, plain in almost every fashion, save the slight grin on his face. The Leader of the Singularity, the genius Longshot. He was probably the only welcoming element in the room. In hindsight, using an old interrogation chamber wasn't the best place to use as a meeting room. Then again, there wasn't anywhere else to go left in the building before the more secure renovations could be completed.
"Apologies, the download took longer than expected." I say.
"One can only be so precise, I suppose," Longshot remarks.
"Precisely why I removed most of what caused the discord leading to imprecise results," I comment, with a slight grimace, "However it appears the process was… not what I wished it to be."
The materials weren't the best, but I was desperate after the break in. The second the money comes in, I'll request more.
"Just more room for improvement. Perfection is the goal, right?" Longshots comments with a smirk.
I raise a thoughtful eyebrow "Weren't you the one who said perfection was unattainable by human hands? Or was that Alchemy? Or am I having another memory glitch?"
"You can just check, you know," the man comments. I shrugs his shoulders before leaning back in my chair. My eyes flash as I the files open themselves.
FILE: MEMORY
INTERACTIONS: VARIOUS
OPENING
SEARCHING….
SEARCHING….
DATA NOT FOUND.
That's concerning, another glitch? "Hmm, another filter needs to be installed apparently." I say, "But, in other news, what was the name of our new client?"
Longshot doesn't even look up from his papers as he takes a sip of tea.
"Oracle." He looked ready to throw up just from saying it. "Pretty pretentious name, honestly."
"Allow me to remind you that Alchemy's first name was Creator," I remind him.
Very slowly, Longshot raises an eyebrow."Yes, and? I never said he wasn't pretentious too."
"Yet we pay him."
Longshot shrugs, a slight amount of brown hair falling from its neatly combed place with the action.
"Sometimes people need other people to be around just so they look better by comparison."
"And here I thought you kept me around for my looks," I joke.
There's a light laugh.
"No. Never that."
"You wound me," I say, my voice resonating with the sarcasm protocol.
"Funny," Longshot retorts, glancing down at a very plain wristwatch, held together with an elastic band, "and here I thought that was your imperfect internal systems."
A loose chuckle escapes me.
"Excuse you, I thought I was the machine here."
Longshot waves a hand imperiously. "I have been known to be called an inventing machine from time to time."
"You're chief executive officer, not chief inventor. That's my job."
"The modern company has to keep their positions fluid in order to survive in this competitive market. Cross-training, my man."
"Does your cross-training include dealmaking?" I ask as I make a show of looking at my watch, "Because our new client is going to arrive in four seconds."
As per my practically-not-human estimation, the lone door to the room opens in exactly four seconds. Standing there, eyebrow slightly raised, is a man with dim violet eyes. He looks like the kind of guy who was picked on for his stature, but smart enough to get around it. But honestly, I felt overdressed. He probably had the money, but he also probably had a speech too.
God I hate speeches.
"Am I interrupting something, or…?" The visitor, Oracle asked.
Longshot swatted the question away with the wave of his hand "Nah, nah. Nothing important, really. Please do come in. Or continue to stand in the hallway that doubles as a hyper dimensional travel device, because that works too."
Holding back a chuckle, I rose from my seat and straightens his suit. I held out a hand to the newcomer. The hand shifts, the skin warping over itself before my suit begins to shift as well. Then, the arm extends beyond human proportions, stopping right in front of Oracle for the offered handshake.
"Welcome to the Singularity Mr. Oracle. My name is Sandstorm, chief inventor." I say before casting a quick glance at the other occupant. "And this fine gentlemen here is our CEO, Longshot."
Surprisingly unperturbed by the gesture, Oracle takes the proffered hand in his and gives it a slight shake before making his way through the doorway. The second he does, the ligament retracts to normal proportions and I sit back down.
"Giving handshakes across the room? Could it be that your eyes are scopes, as well?"
Longshot just shakes his head in silent amusement. "Now that's just silly. What kind of person would experiment on something as delicate as the eyes?"
94% of the staff including yourself. I think.
"Who indeed?" Oracle replies smoothly, slipping his hand casually into his waist pocket as he moves across to an unoccupied chair. I watched him just like Longshot. Neither of us did anything to provoke action, keeping our faces neutral and bodies still. It was easy for me, one order and my entire form freezes in place. Longshot has the harder time, but he's done this enough times to know when to move. The only thing he does is flip a single, blue pen in one hand, end over end, over and over.
"I hear you're here to do business." Longshot states.
"If not, it was a shame to waste a trip through the hallway." I add.
Longshot gives a light laugh, not dissimilar to the laugh he'd given earlier. "Trips through our hallways are never wastes. You never know where you'll end up."
"12.486% chance to arrive somewhere habitable. 63.51% of landing somewhere within, on top of, or under some form of liquid. 24% of landing somewhere in between the two," I clarify.
"And," Longshot chimes in, ".004% chance of arriving at the center of the planet. Risk makes it all that much more exciting, don't you think?"
While the byplay goes on, we keep watching Oracle as he takes the opportunity to actually take his seat, and only properly gives a quiet smile when it wraps right back around to him.
"I'm all for calculated risks, of course, but for people in our… Professions? I suppose that would be it. For people in our professions, aren't taking risks essentially cheating?" Oracle asks.
Longshot merely shrugs again, some of that neatly combed hair falling again across his forehead, to the man's apparent disinterest. "If you're playing fair, you're playing to lose."
"And the Singularity was created to never lose," I say.
Across the table from them, Oracle nods almost approvingly before pulling his hand free, bringing up a small notebook with it. He discards it out on the table, and then leans forward just a little.
"Which is exactly why I've decided to come. I'm not very fond of losing."
"Most aren't," I says, my eyes never leaving the notebook.
Wordlessly, the CEO picks up the notebook, and begins to leaf through it, the neutral expression still in place. He leafs through it, all the way to the end, and by the end, the only change is a slight rise in eyebrow.
"Is that all? It's not a very big order," Longshot finally comments, looking back up with a smile.
He slides the notebook over to me, and I in turn picks it up and flashes through the pages. A list of request for projects. A personal defence device, bulletproofing, carbon nanotube surgery, eye color changing contacts? Weird, most people notice the pocket sized nukes and leave after taking a few of those.
"He's not wrong." I say.
Oracle drums his fingers on the table for a moment, slight smile still very much in place.
"That's true, although I should admit, some of the more interesting things I'd have wanted to request put my life too much at risk."
"Most tend not to take kindly to someone with a hand held bunker buster." Longshot quips.
Oracle's violet eyes flash a little as he leans back, hand still resting on the table. Reminder, build a program to have flashing eyes, intimidation and business proceedings might improve. I order.
"More than that, though, this is also a bit of an investment on my part into your venture here. I've already set aside eight hundred million for this, but I'm sure you already noticed that." Oracle states.
Eight hundred million? Well isn't that generous. Longshot glances over to me and I nod slightly.
FILE: LOCAL NEWS
TYPE: FINANCIAL
ORDER: SCAN AND RELOCATE
RELOCATING…
RELOCATING…
FILES RELOCATED.
PROCESSING COMPLETE.
"And several government's treasuries happen to be approaching the red zone. But that has nothing to do with this venture, correct?" I ask innocently.
The smug precog just smiles.
"Unlike some of your clients, I've made sure that all of this is entirely above board. You were interested in a few investments yourselves, correct?"
I just shrugged "A business is always open to investments. Eight hundred million is quite the investment. But before I start working, might I ask what you're going to be using these for?"
For the second time in as many minutes, Oracle's eyes flash. That's got to be part of his power, damn it's getting annoying.
"A healthy mixture of personal protection, intimidation factor, and just to show off the fact that I've entered the Singularity to the people that are smart enough to realize." He says before leaning back, smile shifting into a half-smirk.
So you'll only be impressing the people that don't even need us to level cities. Fair enough. I think.
"I may as well add that I'm willing to offer a secondary payment to money. You're both familiar with the rumors surrounding me, I presume?" Oracle asks.
"Rumours are rumours," Longshot states from his seat, flipping the pen again, "Give some substantiation, and we'll talk."
Oracle clicks his tongue.
"Substantiation? For most people, that would just involve stating something only that person would know, and they believe me. But… That could just as easily be attributed to reading minds, or very powerful perceptive abilities."
Oh god the speech is coming isn't it? MEMORY: STORE FOLLOWING SECONDS FOR LATER BUT REMOVE AUDITORY NERVES UNLESS IMPORTANT INFORMA-
"How about this… That inter-dimensional missile idea of yours?" Oracle asks.
MEMORY: BELAY PREVIOUS ACTION!
In an instant, he's got my full attention.
Oracle drums a few fingers on the table "Entirely possible, but only with the help of someone that hasn't…. awakened yet, given how you had to remove your previous lender. Though, with the right prodding, I could force it to happen earlier and introduce you, if you like."
Out of the corner of my eyes, Longshot freezes for a very short moment. I watch as his eyes glaze over, and a small smile traces over his features, before returning to the completely average, normal expression.
"Interesting." He flips the pen again, and catches it one final time, before setting it down on the table.
"I think we can work together, then. Assuming you're willing to provide that… Prodding, every once in awhile." Longshot states.
Oracle keeps smiling, leaning back into his chair. "Every once in awhile would be fine with me."
I clap his hands together, grabbing the notebook. "Then, I assume I best begin development?" I ask.
"If you would be so kind," Oracle replies, before taking a brief moment to think, "Though there's no need to consider this a rush order. My life won't be in any immediate danger for at least… Two months and eight days."
I smirk at that, but keep my gaze remained firmly on Longshot, who merely smiles a bit wider.
Confirmation. I bow respectfully to both of the rooms occupants. "Then, I shall begin. A pleasure Mr. Oracle. My report will be on your desk by day's end, Longshot."
I take a step back, and his skin shimmers once again. The grains peal away, sending my entire form into the air and through the vents that I entered in. I did however leave a few ears.
"You can see yourself to the door, mister Oracle." Longshot said, right before flicking something through the air. His pen most likely "Compliments of the Singularity. You know corporations these days. They all need complementary pens."
"Well, I can't quite say this will never come in handy…"
"What, were you expecting it to be a gun or a bomb or something? That's silly. Pens are for writing," Longshot comments, expression utterly neutral.
"I happen to agree, but…" There's a pause, he's probably smiling again.
"Never mind. It was a pleasure meeting you."
"It wasn't a pleasure meeting you, but for the sake of diplomacy we'll call it even. Now take my interdimensional hallway out of here, okay? I have stuff to do and you're all up in my headspace," the head of Singularity retorts.
I cut off the audio stream there. Not much else to listen to, but I'm not going to lie, I always like it when Longshot doesn't bother with the pleasantries.
I reform on the factory floor, but as I do, I go into something a little more comfortable. A simple shirt and lab coat, yes, remember the better times and all that.
The smell of gunpowder and sound of machinery rushes in. Gears churn, and crack against one another.
At least everything down here is working well. Now, who help with this project? Alchemy has talent, but he's busy working on HORIZON for Symphony. Some gas project, last I checked. A small smile graced my features, maybe it's time to give poor little Haywire another shot. Even if he did lose us the KGB with that little stunt of his. At least if he messed this project up, there was plenty of income to fix what happened.
Last edited:
2.8: The Mechanic
IKnowNothing
....What?
- Location
- I got lost so.....Where are we?
"Do you know where Charles is?"
Matthew gives you a sideways glance.
"Do you still want to apologize?"
You shrug "That, and well," You reach up and tap the dampeners in your ear.
"I'm going to take a guess and thank him for making these."
Matthew blinks. "And those are…?"
"I was told they're frequency dampeners," you say. "Then I was told something about not being the only one to see things in that level of clarity."
Matthew shoots you a look that seems like the perfect mix of concern for you, and utter confusion at what you just said.
You throw your hands in the air.
"I don't know man, Contessa's the one that said it."
Matthew blinks and takes a breath in with an "Oh, why didn't you just say that?"
And just like that the confusion is gone.
"She," he pauses and forces out a chuckle, "she gets like that sometimes."
"Yeah well, at the time it really helped," you admit.
If it weren't for her showing up and talking to you, you probably wouldn't be able to stand anymore. As a normal guy, or what you're trying to be. She said you were special, that you were needed, when it really mattered. You can't thank her enough for that.
Matthew drums a finger on his arm.
"So to keep track; you want to go to Charles to apologize and thank him for making the dampeners for you?"
You take a second to think it over, then you nod once.
"Pretty much."
Matthew stares at you for a long moment.
"Sounds good, I was worried you were going to do something stupid. Like break a wall or something," he says with a shrug.
You wince and Matthew grimaces.
"That was a joke," he clarifies.
"I figured but… why?"
"I was trying to lighten the mood." Matthew says defensively.
"It didn't work."
Matthew looks at literally anywhere other than you. He whistles a small tune as he heads to the elevator. You jump, nearly flying out of the couch. A wave snaps into existence, stopping you and letting you catch yourself. You stand there, and look around. Several waves pop and sparkle around the appliances. Under them, over, on the sides. It's like they're waiting for you to chose where to move them, but they only last an instant.
So now they're appearing whenever they want to now? Is that a good thing?
Something bangs on the edge of metal, and you're snapped out of your thoughts to see Matthew standing in the open elevator.
"Anytime," he says, gesturing at the open doorway.
You flash an embarrassed smile.
"Sorry, got lost in thought."
You pick up a quick jog to the door, Matthew keeping the door open with a wave of his hand. Stepping in, he lets the door snap shut.
"Charles is normally in a laboratory," Matthew explains "But which one depends on who needs him at the moment."
He points to the control board, and skims a finger across the button selection. Following it, you see him point at the lab icon.
"If he's with Manton, he's going to be in the main lab."
He moves his finger down to the training rooms.
"If he's working on something for Contessa or Doctor Mother, he'll be in Training Room 11. But if he's off on his own, he's probably going to be in Training Room 12."
He clicks the T-12 button, and the waves around you spring into motion. Matthew leans against the wall for the ride, and you stretch your back a little as you copy him and it's clear that no one's going to start a conversation anytime soon. That's a shame. With nothing better to do, you follow the waves in the ceiling. They pulse and pound against the top of the elevator, giving no indication of slowing down. Shuffling in place, you catch Matthew sending a worried glance your way.
"You alright?"
Matthew looks away for a second.
"Yeah I'm..."
He stops and glances down at his wrist, but there isn't a watch there. Eventually he flashes you a smile.
"It's fine, don't worry about it."
He didn't sound very convincing.
"Was the call that bad?" you ask.
Matthew nods.
"You could say that. It's not dangerous or anything, but I'm not going to enjoy it. Mom is probably going to go on the long speal that I shouldn't be doing this or that, make me feel down and hug me when it's all over. You know how mothers are."
"Y-yeah," you laugh, shuffling as far away from Matthew as you can.
"They can go overboard sometimes."
Matthew nods.
"Tell me about it. Hopefully I don't have to fly out of this nagging session."
He lets out a tired sigh, but his smile remains.
"It'll suck, but it's going to be nice to see her."
You nod.
"Yeah, I'm sure that would be nice."
The elevator door opens, and you thank whatever god oversees your life that it did. You all but jump out of the door, leaving a waving Matthew behind the closing doors. Rude, yes, but some places you'd rather not be in. In the same room as Charles, you'll take that.
Taking a look around, and instantly you feel out of place. The training room, or lab, looks like something straight out of a Star Wars movie. Consoless with hundreds of buttons littered the walls, with each of them leading to a different screen. All across the floor, metal pieces and scraps of paper were thrown about like discarded laundry. Tables were crudely shoved into available spaces, and they had just as much clutter on top of them as the floor did. With the exception that whatever is on the tables actually looked finished.
You see a small movie camera was strapped expertly to the side of a modified bikers helmet. Next to it, a chest plate with a series of wires and data boards sticking out of it. By them, a pistol from the empire strikes back sits waiting.
At the end of the table, Charles stood with a screwdriver in one hand and a metal ball in the other. A head mounted camera loops around his ear and covering one of his eyes. The camera shifted focus as he brought the his hands together. He twisted the screwdriver into the ball, and with a grunt managed to make the ball pop and spark. Lights lit up on the sides, and Charles smiled at the development. His finger clicked the side of a ball, and he casually tossed it aside. It lands on a table filled with so many cluttered pieces of gear that it's more like a pile of metal than a desk of technology.
He turns over to you and awkwardly looks around. Pursing his lips, he kicks a few metal pieces to the wall. He forces out a laugh as his efforts increase. You watch him kick piece after piece away. A block of metal stands in his place, he kicks it like the rest, but this one doesn't budge. You see regret and realization flash across his face for a second. Then, he tightens like a clam trying to hold in a scream of pain. He holds his foot, bouncing around on one leg.
Only for him to land on a smooth metal piece. There's a moment of clarity, then he lands hard on his back.
"Oh son of a…"
You look at him, at the small clean space that he built. Is he trying to clean up for you? That's… alright you guess. It's not really what you would have wanted, but it's better than him being mad at you after… yesterday.
Guess Matthew was right, he really did forget.
Despite the pain that he's in, you're smiling at that fact at least. Charles groans as he uses a nearby table to push himself up. He leans back, cracking his back. Rubbing his neck he looks to you, and the surprise that caused this entire incident is back.
"I swear this isn't a normal day for me." He says "I was just," he leans down and with a heave lifts the offending ball of metal. Or tries to at least. The builder manages to get his fingers under it somewhat, but whatever it was it won't budge. He tries again, the same result. Sighing in defeat he sits down."...In the middle of making some new projects."
"Projects?"
"Yep," Charles says, his eyes glinting as he shoots to his feet "I'm Cauldron's handy dandy tinker, I make whatever the boss ladies want."
His smile turns dark.
"And whatever Professor Asshat wants." he mutters, before his expression brightens as he looks back to you.
"Off topic question first, I've got to ask, those dampener working well for you?"
"Oh yeah," you reach up and give them a tap. "They're perfect. Everything's been crystal clear since I got them."
Charles pumped his fist in victory.
"Yes! Best project this last month."
He winces at the room around him.
"Unlike some of these…"
You glance around to the mountains of discarded things.
"So all of these are… projects?"
Charles shrugs.
"Basically. But most of this stuff is just trinkets that I built when I get bored."
He walks over to the pile and starts throwing off things seemingly at random "Which has happened a lot in the past couple of days since you didn't come around to give me ideas."
Charles shoots a glare at you, and honest to god, it's the most forced glare you're seen in your life. He's like a bad actor really, really trying to make it convincing, but only managing to make everyone laugh. Sure enough, the facade cracks a second and he gestures to the pile of metal in front of him.
"I didn't know what you wanted, so I started anything that popped into my head. At first I wanted to go with the whole glowing theme you had going, but then I couldn't fit all the lights into everything so I just made a base and went off from there. I was thinking maybe some gauntlets with spinning rims. Or some gun. Or a jet pack. OH! A jetpack with guns and a hard light generator with the ability to make some shields. Do you think it should have a shield emblazoned on it? I feel like it should have a shield on it. I mean, if you want to, I'm just working on what you want really. But back to the jetpack-!"
The man doesn't even stop to take a breath. Your head swells, you can't keep up with this it's going to fast.
"Wait wait, slow down," you say, stopping Charles mid rant.
He eyes you curiously.
"You ok?"
"Yes! I mean, no! I mean," you put a hand to your head, fighting off a headache. You wait for it to leave, and Charles just sits there like nothing's wrong.
"It's just… why are you doing this?"
Charles' face becomes the picture of confusion.
"Do you mean build things? Because I do that all the time, I can barely sit still without working on something."
His eyes widen a fraction.
"Oh, you mean why I'm building things for you?"
You nod.
Charles shrugs.
"It's the least I can do."
His tone was takes you back a bit. That was… casual.
"Seriously?"
"Yep," Charles says.
He picks up a small, unfinished pistol from the table. The second he his fingers start breaking it down. He set every piece in a nice a row in the small space that was clear. Picking up the barrel he looks down it like a really bad pirate spyglass.
"Here's how I see it. You're the big gun, Matthew's flying artillery, Rebecca's the brute, and David's the hail mary to end hail marys. Me? I have to make something first before I'm useful, not exactly the kind of guy you want to be protecting you during the bad times you know what I'm saying?"
He twirls the tube around his hand, tossing it up and catching it with a small smile on his face.
"But you guys? You don't have to worry if you made the wrong tool. You can rush in and help, no matter what the situation might be."
Charles take the tube, and snatches up the pieces on the table. His fingers go subsonic as he rebuilds the pistol. In the blink of an eye, it's done. He looks down the sights, and throws it at you. You jump to catch it, fumbling twice before a wave blinks into existence to stop it from falling out of your hands.
"So I'll help you guys, you can help everyone else, and when that's done, I'll move onto me."
You stand there, unmoving as you process his declaration.
"Charles," you say when your mouth finally moves again, "Thanks but you don't need to do this for me. I don't need a welcoming gift. I just came down to say sorry for yesterday and thanks for the dampeners."
Charles shrugs.
"Don't call it a gift, call it me saying no hard feelings."
You stare at him, and he gives you a knowing smile. Matthew was wrong, he didn't forget.
He just didn't care.
Relief and confusion hit you like a freight train, dragging a laugh out of you and forcing you to move to the table.
"Ok then, what do you have for me?" you fake grumble through a smile.
Charles beams at you, excitement literally coming off of him in waves.
"I've got" he reaches a hand in and pulls out an oversized watch with a screen on top of it "a computer watch." He puts it down, and picks up a tube with a cube on the end "A net launcher." Setting that aside he pulls out a pistol "Laser pistol, pick whatever scifi suits your fancy and pretend it's from that." A ticking cube "Hard light generator." An oversized dinner plate "Kinetic energy redirector. Anything tripping your fancy?"
"Not overly," you admit. Not that they weren't cool, but you've never so much as touched a computer in your life.
Nodding Charles moves to the pile again, but he pauses for a second to up the pistol.
"You know this is the third one of these that I've made in the last month? I really need new ideas." Tossing it aside he keeps looking.
Checking the pile yourself, something catches your eye. A small ball with an outer coating of circuit boards and lights. One of them, was blinking blue. Picking it up, you glance at Charles who was in the middle of fiddling with a camera type thing.
"So what's this?"
Charles gives it a quick once over "That? Just a storage ball. It holds data for later. I made it to help Manton store all of his audio files."
That makes sense, but…
"Why is it blinking?" you ask.
Charles rolls his eyes "It's blinking because… wait did you say blinking?"
You nod, and to prove it you hold up the ball. On the bottom side, a small blue light flashes from blue to red. Charles gives it a look, and carefully takes it from you.
Before throwing it as far as he could and pulling you down to the floor with him.
Waves appear to cushion the blow for you, but Charles hits the floor with nothing. He doesn't seem to mind as he covers his ears. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what's going to happen next. So you do the same.
There's a faint pop, then fizzling.
Then, nothing.
You wait, taking your hands of your ears, silence is the only thing that greets you. Charles uncovers his ears and the two of you slowly stand back up. You look around, and you see the smoking ball. The edges are burnt, but beyond that it looked perfectly fine.
"Is that it?" Charles asks, disappointment clear in his tone.
You slowly look at him, and for a second, you wonder if he's the one that needs his head checked. "At least it didn't explode." you point out.
"... still boring." he mumbles.
Charles glances around to the mountains of metal, then his eyes dart back to you.
"You know what? How about you just tell me what you want, and I'll get started. Stop us from finding another thing that might blow up."
You feel your lips move to respond but Charles glares at you.
"And if you say something like 'I'm not worth the trouble' or something depressing like that, I'm going to make you a suit of battle armor just to spite you. Name it, I'll make it," he glances warily at the smoking ball, "And I swear it won't blow up or smoke. Unless you want it to."
…Okay then.
You wait for him to continue, but from the look he's giving you, you don't think he's going to be taking no for an answer. He wants to build you something, the guy who built this entire building and every cool thing in it wants to make you something.
Just to prove that you didn't do anything wrong.
You smile, you're going to like working with this guy.
But the question remains, what do you want? If anything at all.
[] Something for your eyes. All the waves come to you through your vision, maybe he can make something to make them clearer without hurting.
[] Something to attack with. If you have another way to fight, maybe you won't have to go so far next time.
[] Something to defend yourself with. If you can take a hit, you can take the time to think things through.
[] Nothing, you don't really need anything. It's kind for Charles to offer but you don't need anything.
Matthew gives you a sideways glance.
"Do you still want to apologize?"
You shrug "That, and well," You reach up and tap the dampeners in your ear.
"I'm going to take a guess and thank him for making these."
Matthew blinks. "And those are…?"
"I was told they're frequency dampeners," you say. "Then I was told something about not being the only one to see things in that level of clarity."
Matthew shoots you a look that seems like the perfect mix of concern for you, and utter confusion at what you just said.
You throw your hands in the air.
"I don't know man, Contessa's the one that said it."
Matthew blinks and takes a breath in with an "Oh, why didn't you just say that?"
And just like that the confusion is gone.
"She," he pauses and forces out a chuckle, "she gets like that sometimes."
"Yeah well, at the time it really helped," you admit.
If it weren't for her showing up and talking to you, you probably wouldn't be able to stand anymore. As a normal guy, or what you're trying to be. She said you were special, that you were needed, when it really mattered. You can't thank her enough for that.
Matthew drums a finger on his arm.
"So to keep track; you want to go to Charles to apologize and thank him for making the dampeners for you?"
You take a second to think it over, then you nod once.
"Pretty much."
Matthew stares at you for a long moment.
"Sounds good, I was worried you were going to do something stupid. Like break a wall or something," he says with a shrug.
You wince and Matthew grimaces.
"That was a joke," he clarifies.
"I figured but… why?"
"I was trying to lighten the mood." Matthew says defensively.
"It didn't work."
Matthew looks at literally anywhere other than you. He whistles a small tune as he heads to the elevator. You jump, nearly flying out of the couch. A wave snaps into existence, stopping you and letting you catch yourself. You stand there, and look around. Several waves pop and sparkle around the appliances. Under them, over, on the sides. It's like they're waiting for you to chose where to move them, but they only last an instant.
So now they're appearing whenever they want to now? Is that a good thing?
Something bangs on the edge of metal, and you're snapped out of your thoughts to see Matthew standing in the open elevator.
"Anytime," he says, gesturing at the open doorway.
You flash an embarrassed smile.
"Sorry, got lost in thought."
You pick up a quick jog to the door, Matthew keeping the door open with a wave of his hand. Stepping in, he lets the door snap shut.
"Charles is normally in a laboratory," Matthew explains "But which one depends on who needs him at the moment."
He points to the control board, and skims a finger across the button selection. Following it, you see him point at the lab icon.
"If he's with Manton, he's going to be in the main lab."
He moves his finger down to the training rooms.
"If he's working on something for Contessa or Doctor Mother, he'll be in Training Room 11. But if he's off on his own, he's probably going to be in Training Room 12."
He clicks the T-12 button, and the waves around you spring into motion. Matthew leans against the wall for the ride, and you stretch your back a little as you copy him and it's clear that no one's going to start a conversation anytime soon. That's a shame. With nothing better to do, you follow the waves in the ceiling. They pulse and pound against the top of the elevator, giving no indication of slowing down. Shuffling in place, you catch Matthew sending a worried glance your way.
"You alright?"
Matthew looks away for a second.
"Yeah I'm..."
He stops and glances down at his wrist, but there isn't a watch there. Eventually he flashes you a smile.
"It's fine, don't worry about it."
He didn't sound very convincing.
"Was the call that bad?" you ask.
Matthew nods.
"You could say that. It's not dangerous or anything, but I'm not going to enjoy it. Mom is probably going to go on the long speal that I shouldn't be doing this or that, make me feel down and hug me when it's all over. You know how mothers are."
"Y-yeah," you laugh, shuffling as far away from Matthew as you can.
"They can go overboard sometimes."
Matthew nods.
"Tell me about it. Hopefully I don't have to fly out of this nagging session."
He lets out a tired sigh, but his smile remains.
"It'll suck, but it's going to be nice to see her."
You nod.
"Yeah, I'm sure that would be nice."
The elevator door opens, and you thank whatever god oversees your life that it did. You all but jump out of the door, leaving a waving Matthew behind the closing doors. Rude, yes, but some places you'd rather not be in. In the same room as Charles, you'll take that.
Taking a look around, and instantly you feel out of place. The training room, or lab, looks like something straight out of a Star Wars movie. Consoless with hundreds of buttons littered the walls, with each of them leading to a different screen. All across the floor, metal pieces and scraps of paper were thrown about like discarded laundry. Tables were crudely shoved into available spaces, and they had just as much clutter on top of them as the floor did. With the exception that whatever is on the tables actually looked finished.
You see a small movie camera was strapped expertly to the side of a modified bikers helmet. Next to it, a chest plate with a series of wires and data boards sticking out of it. By them, a pistol from the empire strikes back sits waiting.
At the end of the table, Charles stood with a screwdriver in one hand and a metal ball in the other. A head mounted camera loops around his ear and covering one of his eyes. The camera shifted focus as he brought the his hands together. He twisted the screwdriver into the ball, and with a grunt managed to make the ball pop and spark. Lights lit up on the sides, and Charles smiled at the development. His finger clicked the side of a ball, and he casually tossed it aside. It lands on a table filled with so many cluttered pieces of gear that it's more like a pile of metal than a desk of technology.
He turns over to you and awkwardly looks around. Pursing his lips, he kicks a few metal pieces to the wall. He forces out a laugh as his efforts increase. You watch him kick piece after piece away. A block of metal stands in his place, he kicks it like the rest, but this one doesn't budge. You see regret and realization flash across his face for a second. Then, he tightens like a clam trying to hold in a scream of pain. He holds his foot, bouncing around on one leg.
Only for him to land on a smooth metal piece. There's a moment of clarity, then he lands hard on his back.
"Oh son of a…"
You look at him, at the small clean space that he built. Is he trying to clean up for you? That's… alright you guess. It's not really what you would have wanted, but it's better than him being mad at you after… yesterday.
Guess Matthew was right, he really did forget.
Despite the pain that he's in, you're smiling at that fact at least. Charles groans as he uses a nearby table to push himself up. He leans back, cracking his back. Rubbing his neck he looks to you, and the surprise that caused this entire incident is back.
"I swear this isn't a normal day for me." He says "I was just," he leans down and with a heave lifts the offending ball of metal. Or tries to at least. The builder manages to get his fingers under it somewhat, but whatever it was it won't budge. He tries again, the same result. Sighing in defeat he sits down."...In the middle of making some new projects."
"Projects?"
"Yep," Charles says, his eyes glinting as he shoots to his feet "I'm Cauldron's handy dandy tinker, I make whatever the boss ladies want."
His smile turns dark.
"And whatever Professor Asshat wants." he mutters, before his expression brightens as he looks back to you.
"Off topic question first, I've got to ask, those dampener working well for you?"
"Oh yeah," you reach up and give them a tap. "They're perfect. Everything's been crystal clear since I got them."
Charles pumped his fist in victory.
"Yes! Best project this last month."
He winces at the room around him.
"Unlike some of these…"
You glance around to the mountains of discarded things.
"So all of these are… projects?"
Charles shrugs.
"Basically. But most of this stuff is just trinkets that I built when I get bored."
He walks over to the pile and starts throwing off things seemingly at random "Which has happened a lot in the past couple of days since you didn't come around to give me ideas."
Charles shoots a glare at you, and honest to god, it's the most forced glare you're seen in your life. He's like a bad actor really, really trying to make it convincing, but only managing to make everyone laugh. Sure enough, the facade cracks a second and he gestures to the pile of metal in front of him.
"I didn't know what you wanted, so I started anything that popped into my head. At first I wanted to go with the whole glowing theme you had going, but then I couldn't fit all the lights into everything so I just made a base and went off from there. I was thinking maybe some gauntlets with spinning rims. Or some gun. Or a jet pack. OH! A jetpack with guns and a hard light generator with the ability to make some shields. Do you think it should have a shield emblazoned on it? I feel like it should have a shield on it. I mean, if you want to, I'm just working on what you want really. But back to the jetpack-!"
The man doesn't even stop to take a breath. Your head swells, you can't keep up with this it's going to fast.
"Wait wait, slow down," you say, stopping Charles mid rant.
He eyes you curiously.
"You ok?"
"Yes! I mean, no! I mean," you put a hand to your head, fighting off a headache. You wait for it to leave, and Charles just sits there like nothing's wrong.
"It's just… why are you doing this?"
Charles' face becomes the picture of confusion.
"Do you mean build things? Because I do that all the time, I can barely sit still without working on something."
His eyes widen a fraction.
"Oh, you mean why I'm building things for you?"
You nod.
Charles shrugs.
"It's the least I can do."
His tone was takes you back a bit. That was… casual.
"Seriously?"
"Yep," Charles says.
He picks up a small, unfinished pistol from the table. The second he his fingers start breaking it down. He set every piece in a nice a row in the small space that was clear. Picking up the barrel he looks down it like a really bad pirate spyglass.
"Here's how I see it. You're the big gun, Matthew's flying artillery, Rebecca's the brute, and David's the hail mary to end hail marys. Me? I have to make something first before I'm useful, not exactly the kind of guy you want to be protecting you during the bad times you know what I'm saying?"
He twirls the tube around his hand, tossing it up and catching it with a small smile on his face.
"But you guys? You don't have to worry if you made the wrong tool. You can rush in and help, no matter what the situation might be."
Charles take the tube, and snatches up the pieces on the table. His fingers go subsonic as he rebuilds the pistol. In the blink of an eye, it's done. He looks down the sights, and throws it at you. You jump to catch it, fumbling twice before a wave blinks into existence to stop it from falling out of your hands.
"So I'll help you guys, you can help everyone else, and when that's done, I'll move onto me."
You stand there, unmoving as you process his declaration.
"Charles," you say when your mouth finally moves again, "Thanks but you don't need to do this for me. I don't need a welcoming gift. I just came down to say sorry for yesterday and thanks for the dampeners."
Charles shrugs.
"Don't call it a gift, call it me saying no hard feelings."
You stare at him, and he gives you a knowing smile. Matthew was wrong, he didn't forget.
He just didn't care.
Relief and confusion hit you like a freight train, dragging a laugh out of you and forcing you to move to the table.
"Ok then, what do you have for me?" you fake grumble through a smile.
Charles beams at you, excitement literally coming off of him in waves.
"I've got" he reaches a hand in and pulls out an oversized watch with a screen on top of it "a computer watch." He puts it down, and picks up a tube with a cube on the end "A net launcher." Setting that aside he pulls out a pistol "Laser pistol, pick whatever scifi suits your fancy and pretend it's from that." A ticking cube "Hard light generator." An oversized dinner plate "Kinetic energy redirector. Anything tripping your fancy?"
"Not overly," you admit. Not that they weren't cool, but you've never so much as touched a computer in your life.
Nodding Charles moves to the pile again, but he pauses for a second to up the pistol.
"You know this is the third one of these that I've made in the last month? I really need new ideas." Tossing it aside he keeps looking.
Checking the pile yourself, something catches your eye. A small ball with an outer coating of circuit boards and lights. One of them, was blinking blue. Picking it up, you glance at Charles who was in the middle of fiddling with a camera type thing.
"So what's this?"
Charles gives it a quick once over "That? Just a storage ball. It holds data for later. I made it to help Manton store all of his audio files."
That makes sense, but…
"Why is it blinking?" you ask.
Charles rolls his eyes "It's blinking because… wait did you say blinking?"
You nod, and to prove it you hold up the ball. On the bottom side, a small blue light flashes from blue to red. Charles gives it a look, and carefully takes it from you.
Before throwing it as far as he could and pulling you down to the floor with him.
Waves appear to cushion the blow for you, but Charles hits the floor with nothing. He doesn't seem to mind as he covers his ears. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what's going to happen next. So you do the same.
There's a faint pop, then fizzling.
Then, nothing.
You wait, taking your hands of your ears, silence is the only thing that greets you. Charles uncovers his ears and the two of you slowly stand back up. You look around, and you see the smoking ball. The edges are burnt, but beyond that it looked perfectly fine.
"Is that it?" Charles asks, disappointment clear in his tone.
You slowly look at him, and for a second, you wonder if he's the one that needs his head checked. "At least it didn't explode." you point out.
"... still boring." he mumbles.
Charles glances around to the mountains of metal, then his eyes dart back to you.
"You know what? How about you just tell me what you want, and I'll get started. Stop us from finding another thing that might blow up."
You feel your lips move to respond but Charles glares at you.
"And if you say something like 'I'm not worth the trouble' or something depressing like that, I'm going to make you a suit of battle armor just to spite you. Name it, I'll make it," he glances warily at the smoking ball, "And I swear it won't blow up or smoke. Unless you want it to."
…Okay then.
You wait for him to continue, but from the look he's giving you, you don't think he's going to be taking no for an answer. He wants to build you something, the guy who built this entire building and every cool thing in it wants to make you something.
Just to prove that you didn't do anything wrong.
You smile, you're going to like working with this guy.
But the question remains, what do you want? If anything at all.
[] Something for your eyes. All the waves come to you through your vision, maybe he can make something to make them clearer without hurting.
[] Something to attack with. If you have another way to fight, maybe you won't have to go so far next time.
[] Something to defend yourself with. If you can take a hit, you can take the time to think things through.
[] Nothing, you don't really need anything. It's kind for Charles to offer but you don't need anything.
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- Location
- pennsylvania
[X] Something for your eyes. All the waves come to you through your vision, maybe he can make something to make them clearer without hurting.
this might help him get new ideas
this might help him get new ideas
- Location
- Currently in the local dimension.
[x] Something for your eyes. All the waves come to you through your vision, maybe he can make something to make them clearer without hurting.
I feel like anything to help get our power to a point where it is more easily controllable is very important, being able to see what we're doing better should help.
EDIT: So this probably makes what our power does more clear. We aren't directly controlling gravity, we are increasing and decreasing it's effects on things. And our Brute defences are probably some sort of dampener that decreases the intensity of harmful effects.
It will be interesting to find out how broad of an area "Intesity" covers, seems like it could be quite a lot.
I feel like anything to help get our power to a point where it is more easily controllable is very important, being able to see what we're doing better should help.
I think you had a bit of a mixup when you wrote this one.
Oh, so the name of our Shard is Intensity, interesting.
EDIT: So this probably makes what our power does more clear. We aren't directly controlling gravity, we are increasing and decreasing it's effects on things. And our Brute defences are probably some sort of dampener that decreases the intensity of harmful effects.
It will be interesting to find out how broad of an area "Intesity" covers, seems like it could be quite a lot.
Last edited:
- Location
- Fox Empire
[X] Something for your eyes. All the waves come to you through your vision, maybe he can make something to make them clearer without hurting.
this might help him get new ideas
Seems like the best thing we can get, tbh.
this might help him get new ideas
Seems like the best thing we can get, tbh.
- Location
- Virginia
[X] Something for your eyes. All the waves come to you through your vision, maybe he can make something to make them clearer without hurting.
Evaunit02mark1
S-s-smell the Prey, S-s-start the Hunt.
Hmm, toybox?
Or at least this universe's version of Toybox at any rate.
Might want to see if we can get them on board when shit hits the fan, cause that interdimensional missile idea made me, well, let's just say I can't bring up the noise I made in polite company.
[X] Something to defend yourself with. If you can take a hit, you can take the time to think things through.
Never say no to a forcefield/power armor, just makes sense really.
Don't need a weapon, the main problem is that we're already on the FUCK YOU scale of power and have to dial it back.
The glasses are a close second, but I'd rather us be able to take a hit, cause the last thing we need is to get oneshotted by an Endbringer or something.
Or at least this universe's version of Toybox at any rate.
Might want to see if we can get them on board when shit hits the fan, cause that interdimensional missile idea made me, well, let's just say I can't bring up the noise I made in polite company.
[X] Something to defend yourself with. If you can take a hit, you can take the time to think things through.
Never say no to a forcefield/power armor, just makes sense really.
Don't need a weapon, the main problem is that we're already on the FUCK YOU scale of power and have to dial it back.
The glasses are a close second, but I'd rather us be able to take a hit, cause the last thing we need is to get oneshotted by an Endbringer or something.
- Location
- Currently in the local dimension.
I mean, not to try to undermine your choice or anything, but we aren't exactly on the low end of durability.
That said, if the tinkertech could be some form of mental defense, that would be of incredible valuable.
Last edited:
- Location
- Florida
[X] Something to defend yourself with. If you can take a hit, you can take the time to think things through.
D.D. Spectator
Strongest in the land
- Location
- Unknown
[X] Something for your eyes. All the waves come to you through your vision, maybe he can make something to make them clearer without hurting.
IKnowNothing
....What?
- Location
- I got lost so.....Where are we?
Oh yeah, changed it.
I already stated that this is the intensity Shard. The actual name is different.
Sure, they'll be right on board.
Do you have a few million lying around?
- Location
- Reno Nv
[X] Something to defend yourself with. If you can take a hit, you can take the time to think things through.
We already have a rail gun, now we need something so we aren't a glass cannon. Also imagine for intendancy, the intendancy of thought. Like using shadow clones to study or using the boost gear to increase the ability to study/absorb what it is you are looking at/reading.
We already have a rail gun, now we need something so we aren't a glass cannon. Also imagine for intendancy, the intendancy of thought. Like using shadow clones to study or using the boost gear to increase the ability to study/absorb what it is you are looking at/reading.
Fantabulous
You know it.
- Location
- My house, more likely than not.
Well, we're Cauldron so the answer is probably yes.
- Location
- Currently in the local dimension.
I blame my insufficiently efficient meat brain for forgettting that.
Massgamer
Advance toward the Future
- Location
- The Future
[X] Something for your eyes. All the waves come to you through your vision, maybe he can make something to make them clearer without hurting.
Feel like if we can see the waves in general better we can better manipulate and control them which will help in all aspects of our power. Better control means we are less likely to kill or destroy stuff, we can better control flow of gravity for useful effects, etc.
Gravity already has scary attack potential and feel like once we gain more control with it we can easily make a personal gravity force field that will repel/deflect any harmful attacks from us.
Feel like if we can see the waves in general better we can better manipulate and control them which will help in all aspects of our power. Better control means we are less likely to kill or destroy stuff, we can better control flow of gravity for useful effects, etc.
Gravity already has scary attack potential and feel like once we gain more control with it we can easily make a personal gravity force field that will repel/deflect any harmful attacks from us.
- Location
- Leeds
Dear god. What was it made of?
Oh tinker tech. Its meant to do that.