Crimson Devil
(
Previously)
Five seconds of
horrible pain, two minutes of figuring out how to meditate properly (crush the mindstate-I-don't-want, then walk that back to something functional) when my whole body wants to tear everything in sight to pieces, five minutes of extended combat testing against Chirault's wall-mounted octopus-bot. Then they call someone who looks like a grey female Zorro with a fedora, who introduces herself as Trickshooter and asks if I'm ready to try my combat instincts while holding a gun. (I'm...
pretty sure Contessa has tan skin? Trickshooter looks pale French. Canadian?)
I don't like guns, for the same reason I don't like driving - it's
scary, how little effort it would take for me to just randomly kill someone. But apparently, that's the biggest difference about being hopped up on Devildoor: fear is exciting. I accept.
Every gun I try, I can make shots one-handed from the other end of their firing range, while moving. I've never even
held a pistol before. This is officially amazing, maybe moreso than being able to claw through concrete. I'm starting to manage
bounceshots when I run out of ammo, and instinctively try warping the gun into something that can keep shooting. It doesn't work immediately, and I'm called back to Chirault's workshop before I manage. Grumpily, I go.
Having a weapon seems to change my mindset a
lot toward how that weapon works. When I'm holding a gun, I don't want to run
at things. With my claws free, though, I really do. I make it back across the complex in about eight seconds, most of which is because even with jumping-shortcuts the route is kind of circuitous, and I'm trying not to destroy anything in the process. I'm
way more mobile than I was, and I'm still getting used to it.
When I arrive, Nonstop is staring grimly at a blurry hologram display projected on what appears to be sprinkler mist, and Chirault is urgently poking at a pair of robot gloves. Nonstop speaks.
"A sandstorm just hit Livingston. It's interfering with radio, but a short-lived phone call to the national PRT hotline claimed that glass collars were being used to take hostages. We've had no contact since."
Chirault holds up the gloves. "Hurry, put these on. Maybe undo your hands first." I rankle, but crush that because it's crazy and start draining my forearms. "How do they work?"
"You know how I was trying to isolate your Element and manipulate it? Haven't managed it, but I'm pretty sure you can use it for shaping plasma. That was my main issue with these, so I just tied everything off and adjusted them to fit you. Hurry, we're leaving."
She helps me put them on, then abruptly remembers something. "Oh, right. These are going to fuse with the skin of -in front of your elbows, so there may be a shock as they activate. But don't worry! You can shunt them to subspace, so you'll keep full functionality!"
This doesn't entirely ring as
safe, but it's urgent enough - and re-auging my head is painful enough - that I'm just going go with it as-is. The gloves buckle on, stab in, and activate with a hum. I consciously step back and then light up, pushing the hot feeling outwards. It's a
lot like manipulating my element after infusion, but it's not all that impressive - maybe a half-inch of bluepurple white along the backs of my arms and knuckles. So I step back further, and flood them with my Element.
My arms are bizarrely insulated this time, presumably because of the subspace thing. I form some inside them, to get everything. (Which might not have been my
brightest idea, but fortunately the pain didn't interfere too much.) The gloves get a lot sharper-looking, and the plasma turns from a bright glowing gradient to an blinding magenta. I suppress it as quickly as I can, and apologize - but apparently I'm the only one present who
isn't wearing eye protection.
Well. Try infusing my eyes again? But in the mean time, Nonstop is talking. "We have to go. Whether it's a challenge or a distraction, we'll be safer in the train. I got the reactor installed, so there's no contest now." He turns to Chirault. "You're coming with." She scowls, but softly. "Okay."
____
And we're off! This training sequence has yielded considerable proficiency with Devildoor's personal buffs, but because I've decided we needed to pick the pace up, SI-me hasn't learned all that much about how it affects living things which aren't him. Next post will be my character sheet, and hopefully it'll have a good vote.
(778 words.)