Brockton's Celestial Forge (Worm/Jumpchain)

16 Therapy
16 Therapy

Thanks to my latest gift from the Celestial Forge I had another option when it came to my costume. My Engineer Class skill provided me with a seriously advanced armored spacesuit complete with life support, power generation, and integrated shielding. The localized reactor would be a serious boon to some of the more advanced tricks I could manage with my omni-tool. The fact that it provided a sealed environment with a regenerating oxygen supply addressed one of my remaining vulnerabilities. Unfortunately there were two problems with just going out in my new armor.

First, despite the advanced material and integrated shielding it actually provided less protection that a set of clothes under the effect of my Fashion reinforcement power. It would have been borderline before I included the additional pieces I had made to protect me from life fiber testing, but with those included it was miles ahead. The shield had a serious advantage in blocking physical impacts, but would deplete and have to recharge. Even with the shield taken into account I was well ahead of the armors protection in terms of chemical, thermal, and radiation resistance, not to mention straight up physical toughness.

The second critical factor was Garment. While she definitely cared about my safety she seemed to consider fashionableness to be of equal importance. She made it absolutely clear that she did not spend all this time designing my costume just so that I could switch out to 'generic tinker' armor at the last minute. She would have no part in it, which also meant no life fibers. They would have been tricky to integrate under the armor even with her help, and completely impossible without it.

It was possible that I might be able to integrate some of the armors systems into my costume's defensive plating, but that would take time and testing and Garment had waited long enough for this. She was positively fervent when I approached the workbench. Actually, a lot more eager than I anticipated. Which could mean...

"Garment?" She shifted her attention back to me. "Uh, do you know about the power that I just got?" There was a very excited motion of assent.

Well, I knew she knew about my powers from before she appeared, but I wasn't sure she had been kept up to date. Actually, she probably had a better idea of what I could do and how I worked than anyone short of my passenger. The Flocks Fleece was a serious clothing power. In addition to granting environmental resistance, durability, and perfect fit to every item of clothing I made it seriously increased my skill at tailoring and turned me into a one man textile factory. I could go from raw materials to finished products in a flash, even products that would require additional chemicals or extensive and time consuming treatments. I could only imagine what Garment's plans for a power like that would me.

I didn't have to imagine because they were impeccably documented. Garment may have had issues with text, but she could convey an incredible amount of detail through sketches including exact fabric thread counts and composition. From the moment Garment slipped her gloves over my hands I was tearing through a blitz of precise diagrams and exacting measurements. My power would let the costume fit perfectly no matter what the sewing was like, but Garment seemed to think that was no reason to get lazy.

There were aspects to her design that were pushing our combined skills and the limits of my aesthetic powers to the absolute max. The Time constellation passed by in the Celestial Forge with no connection and even less notice as we focused on completion of my costume. Tiny complex stitches in precise arrangements of threads caused seams to either vanish or be integrated into the detailed embroidery that replaced the metal plating of my old costume.

Incredibly this was even beyond the stellar quality of Garment's work. In addition to our combined skills I was using both my micromanipulators and omni-tool. I was able to achieve a level of precision that may have never been seen in the history of fashion. The equipment and techniques I was using were intended for precision alignment of technologies that altered the very fabric of the universe. I was using them for incredibly complicated stitches and the assembly of stylistic touches on a level of quality that had possibly never been seen in the history of the world.

It was subtle, but I could pick up on Garment's excitement as well. We were supporting each other, her directing the broad design choices and me handling the detail work. There was an eagerness in the way she would move materials to be exactly ready for when I needed them, or a certain flair to the way things were coming together. Everything else she had done was just dressed up conventional clothes-making. This was the first time she really got to push the limits of what was possible, and we were doing it together.

And then we were done. My costume was complete. This was a real cape costume. I had been able to do an alright job before, but this was beyond polished. I'm pretty sure there were leaders of regional Protectorate teams who didn't have this level of quality in their wardrobe. With the cowl and color scheme it looked sort of like a utilitarian mix of Alexandria and Eidolon's styles. The coat was tailored now, not that thrift shop nonsense. I still had my storage belts and bandolier, but they properly matched the design as well as now being more ergonomic and organized. There would be no more spilling reagents across the street. It took advantage of my crafting and reinforcement powers to allow lighter construction and more ease of motion than a costume of its apparent bulk should have.

Pride was absolutely radiating off Garment as she examined every facet of the construction. I don't think I'd ever seen her that satisfied. Even with the quality of work we had managed to set a serious pace. I still had time to deal with some of my other projects before my appointment.

Right, my appointment. God, I did not feel ready for this. I contemplated if there was any way I could possibly get out of it, then hated myself for the thought. This was just a check in, it would be fine. I mean, I'd have to dig into my trigger event, but...

Hey, I should really test out that potion. Don't want to leave that for the field. Nothing like the exploration of some new supernatural effect and all of its implications to distract from something I was definitely not avoiding thinking about.

I left Garment to continue admiring the costume and moved to the Alchemy Lab. There were actually some doors linking the workshop without needing to use the entry hall, possibly to facilitate transfer of materials. It would certainly make things easier once I started transmuting metals. In the center of the lab was a beaker of faintly glowing blue liquid. The brewing process had taken a little under an hour from start to finish. If this worked well I could probably set up some level of industrialization to improve production rate or volume, but I needed to get a handle on this first.

The main reason for this test was duplication of my limited reagents. Dry ice was trivial to produce with the resources of my new lab, but I had a limited supply of meteorite. Just enough for six beads. Still, that meant twelve free beads with every potion. I just had to deal with the fact that I would be duplicating myself.

That was my real concern. I didn't think my clones would turn murderous or anything, but there were some unsettling aspects to bringing someone into existence with a lifespan of seven or eight minutes. That was basically a game of 'how fast can you speedrun the stages of grief?'. Then there was the whole problem of making additional copies of myself.

I really didn't know what to expect here. I'm at least self-aware enough to acknowledge that I have some serious issues. I wouldn't be going to that appointment I'm not thinking about if that wasn't true. So here I was, about to take someone who wasn't that stable, and make two more of him. With limited lifespans. In a contained environment full of dangerous equipment.

Ok, this was silly. I trusted myself to act fairly reasonably. Shouldn't I trust my clones? Or was the fact that they were my clones the reason I shouldn't trust them? This was confusing. I wonder if Oni Lee had to deal with this kind of thing? Maybe that was why he was so grim and serious all the time.

This was turning into circular thinking and accomplishing nothing. It was a Celestial Forge power. It might have some quirks, but it's not like it would be actively dangerous to me.

Deliberately not thinking about the life fibers.

There was nothing to do but press forward. I loaded up on my vital reagents, picked up the beaker, and downed the potion in two gulps. The effect was not exactly what I had expected, though I'm not really sure what I expected the mechanism of a cloning potion to be. With each gulp there was a shifting around my limbs, like another image was superimposed on it. It was like bad clipping of a 3D model. One after the other the images stepped away from me and I was looking at a pair of copies.

So this was it. My first encounter with a duplication of myself. I didn't know what to expect. Both copies were looking around the lab, seeming to get their bearings. I waited to see how they would react. Would they have questions? Concerns? Doubts about their existence. The first copy looked over at me and opened his mouth.

"You really need a haircut."

I blinked. "What?"

"He's right." The second chimed in. "It wasn't clear before, but yeah, that's seriously past due."

"That's what you're worried about?"

The first responded flippantly. "Well it needed to be said. And it's not like I have any pressing concerns over the nature of my existence to worry about." He looked over to the second for confirmation.

"Me either. Probably some failsafe in the effect. Actually, I find it kind of freeing."

"I know, right?"

I considered things. "So all you want from your existence is for me to get a haircut?"

The first shook his head. "You don't have to do that. We're not like Garment. This is a temporary situation. There's no need to make sure we have a validating experience. That would just bog us down from what we're trying to accomplish. Actually, here, take the reagents. You need the practice with the formula, and it's not like we'll benefit from it."

"From me too" The second also handed over his dry ice and meteorites. "But I'm serious about that haircut. Actually, I bet we could manage it for you."

I stopped from my attempted combination of the formula. "Okay, that's not happening. No scissors near my head. Not by someone untrained."

The first raised a hand. "I'm pretty sure that Decadence power more than covers things. Plus, we can do a couple of test runs while you work on those formulas."

"Wait, you have all my powers? Do you have a connection to my passenger? Uh, I guess our passenger now?"

"Yeah." The second nodded to the first copy. "Hey, is he as amused by this for you guys as he seems form me?"

He was, damn it. Highly confusing situations seemed to be regarded as quality entertainment for him.

The first copy nodded as well. "Tell you what, you start on those call beads and we'll brainstorm what to do with the remaining duration." There was a grin shared between the copies that didn't make me feel that comfortable. Still, this was what I was here for. Even if I hadn't gotten obedient drone copies at least they seemed to be working towards the same objectives.

Call Up was by far the most serious formula that had been provided by Evermore Alchemy. I had only used it once and didn't really understand the significance of what was happening at the time. Other formulas could manifest healing energy, teleportation, or all kinds of energy blasts. This formula worked on a substantially higher level. It affected the very fabric of the universe.

When the formula activated it punched a hole in reality. This effectively created a tunnel to a fundamental source of magic, one that by its very nature would collapse in short order. The only thing stopping that from happening was the thin layer of blue crystal that formed over the breach like a scab. Well, it was actually a material a lot more complicated than 'crystal', but that's not worth getting into right now. All it would take was the disruption of the crystal and all the power of that conduit could be unleashed in an instant.

Unfortunately I still had nothing I could link the other end of the breach to. I knew other passengers were a possibility, as were any other sufficiently powerful forces or beings, but I hadn't encountered options that seemed like a good idea to pursue. I had seen what passengers looked like and had a decent idea of how they saw the world. That wasn't something I was going to blunder into. Until I got a better handle on that kind of thing call beads would just be compact magical batteries for my Magitek devices.

I was almost finished working my way through the copied reagents when Garment entered the room, either drawn by the sound of the formulas or just finished admiring our work on my costume. She looked at me, then at the first copy, currently measuring ingredients near the potions stand, and the second, making some notes at the ritual space. She repeatedly glanced from one to the other then back to me. She made an excited gesture, motioned for us to wait, then rushed off.

"Uh, what was that about?" I looked at the two copies.

They shrugged. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure it'll be fine?"

"Should I really take advice on that from someone who will be gone in a few minutes?"

That got me a critical look. "I'd say we're in a better place to recognize trivial concerns. Now finish up, you need that haircut."

"Ok, this is getting really weird."

"Getting weird?" the second copy called from across the room. "You're in a pocket dimension talking to magically generated clones of yourself as part of an experiment you dove into to avoid having to think about an impending therapy session. What part of this isn't weird? Oh, and I know we think our hair is fine, but take a look at it from the back and seriously tell me you're comfortable going out like that."

The first copy turned around and I could see what they were talking about. I also recognized the shameless tactic of using my insecurities against me. When I worried about my clones using insider knowledge to subvert me I assumed it would be towards a more significant purpose than hairdressing.

I glared at them as I worked through the last of the copied reagents.

"Did everyone just feel that?"

"Yeah, missed magictech constellation again."

"Damn it, we really need more of those skills. It's been nothing since we built the motoroid."

"I know. At least we got this workshop and are no longer trying to set up a potion lab in some abandoned factory."

I really can't explain how weird it was to watch your own inner monologue being discussed externally. Also their convincing of me to sit down while they collaborated on the process of a haircut, mostly from first principles, added a whole other dimension to the meaning of 'talking yourself into something'.

Fortunately the process was fairly simple and completed well within the duration of the copies existence. Most of the barber tools were fabricated on the spot using omni-tools, which networked with copies of themselves seamlessly. There were some potential future applications to that, but I was mostly distracted by the fact that I was being picked over by copies of myself in what seemed like a demented version of self-care. Fortunately my copies at least shared my taste and were keeping the haircut fairly conservative, just cleaning things up rather than going for any crazy style.

That was the state I was in when Garment burst into the lab, three sets of clothing floating after her. I gaped at the collection. I was at a loss for how to process this. I wasn't sure how connected Garment actually was with modern culture. She had an excellent handle on fashion based aspects of it, but seemed to have some holes in her experience. Whatever the gaps were the world of cinema didn't seem to be one of them.

I didn't know Garment was fan of James Bond films. I also didn't know how she had been able to assemble three of the most famous Bond suits in so short a window. I also didn't know why she was insistently offering me the white tuxedo while my copies looked on whith amusement.

"Garment, no."

"Garment yes." I glared at the second copy and he shut his mouth.

"We have maybe two or three minutes before this wears off. That's not even enough time to get changed." Much less whatever she wanted to accomplish with this dress-up.

"But there's always next time." The first copy chirped as he examined the grey three piece suit.

"Yep, that's a promise." The second copy added, looking over the black tux.

"Okay, you can't make promises. You're not going to exist in a couple of minutes."

"Like you would actually turn her down." I looked between the first copy and Garment's excited stance. Fine, that was true, but if I admitted it I would never get out of playing dress up for her. I glared at my copies, who were clearly enjoying themselves. This was a new kind of self-hatred I was totally unfamiliar with.

"So, done here and transferring the last of my notes."

"Me too." My omni-tool pinged as it received files from its duplicates. "Last couple of minutes of existence. Any ideas?"

"External examination when one of us is in the neural interface? Maybe get started on the motoroid overhaul? Oh, and make sure this guy doesn't duck out of therapy."

"Seriously?" I looked at the first one.

The other raised a hand. "I would offer that we are you, and thus know how you feel about it."

"Easy for you to say, you're not going." I realized I had become frustrated enough that I was no longer morally conflicted about their impending end of existence. If that was their plan all along then I had to give them credit. Give me credit? God, this was confusing.

"That just makes it easier to make sure you do it." He turned to Garment. "Don't let him skip out, right?"

She gave an enthusiastic gesture as she packed away the suits. I sighed as I joined my copies for a final work blitz. The work on the motorid was actually extraordinary. We were already operating under powers that let us work blindingly fast. Combining that with three sets of hands who all had the same goal of an overhaul and that final three minutes might as well have been days of construction. One copy coordinated from things the neural interface, linking with the networked omni-tools while the other managed computer components and I rebuilt the mechanics. I knew immensely more about transforming robotics than I had when I built this thing and was able to convert the transformation process from an awkward and jerky mess to a smooth process worthy of the alien robot technology I was so familiar with.

For some reason it did produce a strange five part electric grinding sound that was oddly familiar, though I couldn't quite place it.

We didn't finish everything by the time the copies disappeared, potion duration 8 minutes 34 seconds, but it was enough that I was able to mop up the rest of the tasks myself. And duck into the neural interface quickly because the developing A.I.s were having some difficulty handling the sudden disappearance of a networked mind from their awareness. Once I got them calmed down and reviewed their development, which should now be able to handle basic language interface on Survey's part, I disconnected to find Garment standing in front of me with her laptop, a copy of my schedule, and the estimated travel time to my doctor's office.

I would be annoyed by it if I hadn't sort of been the one to put her up to this. At least this experience would help reaffirm my aversion to cloning technology. Time saver my ass, I'm not dealing with another me running around full time if this is what it's going to be like.

"Fine, fine, I'm going." I looked at Garment. "I'm going to have to seal the workshop. If you're in here you'll be cut off from the internet. Do you want to wait in the apartment?"

She seemed to consider things before making an affirmative gesture and picking up her laptop and thus the copy of Survey. I got them settled at my old desk and sealed the workshop. I'd be taking my bike which meant another trip to the secluded alley with hopes that no one had caught on to it yet.

I said my goodbyes and exited the apartment with the enthusiasm of a death march. All my concerns were flooding back and my strategy to not think about them wasn't holding water, not this close to the appointment. There was no more dancing around the issue. I had to deal with my trigger event. Really deal with it, not just lean on whatever way that my power decided to mess with my mind and hope for the best.

I retrieved my bike and started towards Dr. Campbell's office. It was weird not taking the bus there, but I knew the area well enough that there was no issue finding it. Rather than hide my bike I decided to actually park it and slowly approached the building's entrance. It was technically downtown, but closer to the college than the corporate district. As such the office had a small parking lot that was mostly empty this late on a Saturday.

That really sheds some light on things. How isolated were you during your recovery? Isolated enough that a reoccurring therapy session on Saturday evening never had any conflicts.

It wasn't something I really complained about. I was grateful that Dr. Campbell could fit me in to his schedule, though I suspected this was outside his normal hours and he held it as a concession for me. And I realized I was ruminating on past therapy to avoid facing the current situation and was literally dragging my feet to draw out the time it would take to reach the entrance.

I steeled myself and pushed forwards. I greeted the receptionist he shared with a few of the other Doctors in the building and dropped into a waiting room chair to stew in my apprehension. You know what, screw those copies who thought this was so important but knew they wouldn't have to deal with it. They got the easy way out, those bastards with their temporary existences.

I was jarred out of my moderately ridiculous chain of thought by the office door opening to reveal a short late-middle aged man with thinning hair and a beard flecked with grey. He smiled when he saw me and waved in greeting.

"Joe, it's good to see you again. Come right in."

I pushed down my anxiety and followed him into his office. He took his usual seat and I sank onto the couch, suddenly aware of the awkward placement of my motorcycle helmet. I shifted it a few times before setting it on the floor without comment from Dr. Campbell.

He picked up a notepad and turned towards me. "So, how have you been doing?"

"Good." I tried.

It didn't feel like enough detail, so I struggled for how to press on. Uh, what are some positive things in my life? I mean things that aren't cape related.

"I'm still exercising." He nodded. "I actually joined a gym as well. It's been good. One of those points of contact we talked about."

"That's excellent. Is it still helping with your sleep?"

"My sleep's been... it's been better." I didn't want to comment on that too much. "I've been getting out more. I started some new work, met some people. It's, it's been good."

He made a note. "And how's your mood?"

"Better." I felt like I was repeating myself. "not at the point of being an obstacle, at least."

"It's good to hear that. Have the mindfulness exercises helped with that? Previously you were having some trouble with them."

I took a deep breath. It was more than 'some trouble'. It was like fighting my own brain. I put the thoughts aside. "Sort of? I've been able to recognize when things are getting out of hand. It's been easier to counter negative thoughts, manage self-care, that kind of thing. Probably too easy."

"What do you mean by that?"

I struggled to come up with an explanation that wasn't 'I have an extradimensional entity serving as a moderating influence in my brain except when it arbitrarily decided to make things worse'. Said influence was still there, but seemed to be taking a back seat to allow me to deal with all the emotions of therapy in their raw state. I wasn't sure if I should be grateful or indignant at that. Instead I grasped back to the original problems I had with the concept of mindfulness.

"It's kind of like the thoughts don't feel natural, like what you're thinking and feeling is normal no matter how destructive, and it's somehow dishonest to try to go against that."

"I understand. It's a very difficult skill. Even recognizing your own mental state is an accomplishment. Taking additional steps to try to correct it takes a phenomenal amount of effort. As I said, your commitment to the process was extraordinary."

I nodded blankly. Really I hadn't gotten past the recognition step, and that mostly just served to make me aware of how bad things actually were. Well, no. Those skills had proved pretty useful at figuring out what my passenger was trying to convey. If I hadn't spent months trying to understand what was wrong with my own mind I doubt I would have been able to get half the details I'd been able to gleam from my passenger's reactions.

"It doesn't feel like it."

"What makes you say that?"

I grimaced. "It just feels like this is meaningless. No one really takes it seriously."

"Clinical depression is serious."

"I know. I mean I try to keep that in mind, but people say they're depressed when they're tired, or have had a bad day. There's not really a sense that it's something that's justified in upending your life."

"Societal perception of mental illness is difficult to deal with." He stated in a clam tone.

I was grateful for him leaving it there rather than asking about how my family was dealing with the idea. I struggled for something else to talk about that would kick that topic and the event tied to it down the road.

"I met someone." He raised an eyebrow. "Not romantically, but she's been a good friend."

"That's wonderful. How did you meet?"

Stick closest to the truth. "I ran into her after work. She's a fashion designer. Really talented as well."

Maybe it was serendipity, but when mentioning Garment I felt the Celestial Forge make a connection to the Quality constellation, and it was a mote that she would love. It was called Beauty in the Arts, and it took the quality of my aesthetics beyond even what Decadence was capable of. This was borderline divine beauty in form, and it had no impact on how functional the end product would be. The only downside was Garment would probably want to remake my entire costume from scratch.

Dr. Campbell nodded slightly and seemed to be evaluating my wardrobe. Damn it, I forgot how perceptive he was. Well, just press forward.

"She has some communication problems, but she's really nice and supportive. I've been helping her out with some of her projects."

He seemed concerned for some reason. "So she's in the fashion industry and she has trouble communicating?"

"Yes?" I couldn't figure out where he was going with this. He just looked at me flatly until it finally clicked.

"You think this is about Sabah?" I couldn't keep the tone of my voice level as I spoke.

"There are some similarities. And you've been fairly reserved about approaching people since then."

My mind spun. This was not where I thought the discussion would go. "Gar… She's nothing like Sabah. They couldn't possibly be more different." Even the association felt wrong. Last I heard Sabah was still a fashion student. The idea of her telekinetically assembling clothing like Garment was beyond ridiculous.

Besides, Garment's communication problems were nothing like the slight difficulties Sabah had with English. The idea that there could be any similarity between them… it was just insane.

"I just wanted to draw attention to the parallels. I know it still bothers you and if there's a connection we should discuss it."

I took a breath and let it out slowly. "I hate what happened with Sabah. I mean I hate the event, what I did, the situation, the aftermath. Really the aftermath."

This was seriously well trodden ground for us, but I knew he didn't mind me repeating myself. It felt like the only way I could deal with the emotions the topic brought up. It was really more of a case of venting in a safe space than any move towards progress.

"I didn't know what I was doing. I mean, that was the first time I tried to have a relationship with someone and it crashed and burned spectacularly." I shook my head. "It's all stupidly obvious looking back. All through high school what kept me going was the idea that things would be better in college, but things can't be better if you don't know how to handle them."

"We've talked about that. Do you want to..." I shook my head, cutting him off. It would be too easy to get sidetracked talking about earlier stuff.

"No, it's just." I let out a breath. "Going into a situation like that when the only advice you have for dealing with women was 'be nice to them' it's no wonder things went horribly. I thought I was expressing interest, she thought... I don't even know what she thought. That I was being pushy out of nowhere? That I was like, holding assistance hostage for something more? I didn't even realize something was wrong until that public blow up, and even then I didn't figure it out until she changed programs."

I dropped my eyes before continuing. "I mean, the first time I try to let someone know I like them I end up driving them out of the department." I shook my head. "That would be bad enough, but everyone thinks that's where all this stuff came from. That I liked a girl and she broke up with me and now I'm depressed. We didn't even have a relationship. I just did things for her and she tolerated my presence."

"Are you still getting that sentiment from your family?"

And there it was. No way to dance around it forever. "Sort of? Everyone seems to have a different idea of what's causing this, or that I'm faking it all to get attention." Thank you for that Natalia, it really makes interactions with you a treat. "I've probably convinced my mother that it wasn't the cause, but that just means she's digging into anything else to avoid admitting my home life could possibly be a contributing factor."

"But it still bothers you?" He leaned forward slightly as he asked.

"What I did bothers me, not how it ended. I'm upset that I hurt her and didn't see it happening, not that she dumped me, if you can even call it that. There wasn't enough between us for it to be any kind of loss." I shook my head again. "It was a bigger deal when my faculty advisor died."

"I know that was a big shock for you." His tone was sympathetic as he spoke.

I nodded. "She was the only teacher I had that seemed to seriously care about her students. Also the associate professor they got to replace her couldn't find his ass with a map and flashlight." I let the bitterness leak into my words. "My mother said I should have picked someone from the engineering faculty rather than my English professor." I shrugged. "Maybe things would have gone better if I had support from inside of my department. Could have put off my breakdown by two, maybe three whole months."

I let sarcasm seep into my voice, but it felt like the life was draining out of me. Therapy was wonderful, the worst parts of my life all come screaming back. I sighed.

"I talked with someone about Sabah."

Dr. Campbell gave me an encouraging look. "How did that go?"

"One of the coaches at the gym I joined asked about my time in college, what happened, if there was a girl." I grinned slightly as I remembered Doug's complete lack of tact.

"What did you say?"

"I gave him the broad points. None of the stuff around it. He pointed out what should have been obvious at the time, but he was pretty understanding."

Dr. Campbell nodded. I needed to get off this topic. It was at the point where even my family was looking like a more pleasant item of discussion.

"Would you like to talk about what happened a couple of weeks ago?"

And there it was. I took some time before I replied. I really appreciated him not mentioning how he heard about it. I knew my parents talked to him, but he had made it clear that it was one way communication, that nothing we talked about was shared in return. Still, it was more than a little stressful to deal with. At least he didn't use my family's version of events as the basis for how he approached me, which was a big step up from, well from pretty much my entire childhood.

Still, this was a path that led straight to my trigger event, and it wasn't a pleasant one. Both for the path and for what the destination could have been.

I really, really didn't want to talk about this, but I knew I needed to. My passenger might have helped me function in the aftermath, but if something happened, if that was called into question or something else came up I knew how badly things would hit me. There was nothing to be gained by ignoring this. I took a breath and started.

"My mother? She's been trying to 'help' with my depression." I didn't actually make finger quotes, but it took some effort to restrain myself. "Some of it was harmless, omega 3 supplements or a sun lamp for seasonal effects." I swallowed. "But she started reaching out to my psychiatrist."

My new psychiatrist. I'd been through four since the one at the college clinic. Too much changing of locations and health plans, and most of them weren't a good fit anyway. I had a somewhat stable medication regimen, but...

"I remember discussing it." He noted. "The change to your medication was affecting your sleep."

I nodded. "The sleep medication they added didn't help, it just left me hazy all night. Running made a difference." I had to do so much of it to get an effect that it bordered on insane. I think I was hitting seven miles a night, and at that point it was only slightly less disruptive to my schedule than the insomnia had been.

"When we last met you mentioned you were discussing another change to your medication?"

I nodded. "A different serotonin uptake inhibitor. We didn't make the change for a few weeks, and at that point..." I trailed off, not knowing what to say.

"You were with your family?" He spoke cautiously, like he was being careful of my reaction.

This was it, time to get into the trigger event. I braced myself and did my best to push forward. "It was my first day on the new medication. I didn't realize how it was affecting me, not at first."

"You had a bad reaction?"

If he had spoken to my parents he knew damn well I had a bad reaction, but I appreciated him leaving them out of it. Instead I just nodded and continued.

"One of my sisters was home for spring break, so my mom wanted to have a family dinner. I took the bus back to Captain's Hill." Family dinners were not a pleasant experience, but there was no decent excuse I could use to get out of it.

"What happened when you got there?" He leaned forward slightly, but gave me space to answer.

I let out a slow breath. "My mother acted like everything was normal. Natalia was ok, at least at the start. There were a few comments, but nothing that bad. My dad was there, but he tries to stay out of this kind of conflict."

Dr. Campbell nodded and waited for me to continue. I took a deep breath and pressed on.

"It's crazy, but sometimes I wish they were at least consistently horrible. Well, I don't mean to say horrible, but..."

"It's alright. Use whatever terms you feel work best."

"Alright. I mean, they act nice and normal seventy or eighty percent of the time, then just cut into me like it's nothing. Well, my mom and sisters. And it makes it feel so trivial. I have a major mental disorder because my family was mean to me? What kind of reason is that?"

"Emotional abuse is highly damaging and traumatic. Inconsistent environments and treatment only exacerbate things. Have you considered what we talked about earlier?"

I turned away slightly. "I'm pretty sure my mother doesn't actually have undiagnosed bipolar disorder."

He made a placating gesture with one hand. "I'm not offering a diagnosis, but some of the signs are similar enough that it's worth looking at ways to deal with it. Something like Cyclothymic disorder would be hard to diagnose, particularly when your mother was growing up."

It also felt like too convenient an excuse. But this was digging into old issues, and I knew how they could overwhelm an entire session. Instead I did my best to push on.

"Things got worse as the night went on. My sister started making comments about taking advantage of my parents and not trying to deal with my condition."

He frowned. "I thought you weren't getting any support from them anymore?"

"I'm not." And the decision had been mostly to try to stop crap like that. "She was bringing up my years in college, how they paid for everything then and supported me until I moved into the city."

"But they paid for her education as well?"

I ignored a missed connection to the Toolkits constellation. "Yeah, but she's graduating this year, not some dropout with no prospects." Exact quote. I sighed. "I wasn't taking it well because of the medication. When I tried to counter her my mother stepped in, and that made things worse. Then I got the letter."

"Letter?" He looked concerned.

"I hadn't given the college an updated address for my apartment, so my parents were holding some mail for me. It turns out my medical withdrawal had expired to a normal withdrawal, meaning I'm now a proper college dropout." I grit my teeth. "So I'd have to reapply to get back into the program. My sister saw it and started laying into me, and my mother wanted me to explain what happened and how I could fix it. And then I just realized it."

"What was it you realized?" His tone was level but he looked concerned.

I took another breath. "I realized that I was never going to beat this thing."

"I don't think..."

I waved off his response. "I mean never as in not fast enough to get my life together. Everything I'd done, it was just enough to let me know how bad things were. All that work just let me understand the magnitude of the problem and how big the issues that caused it were. How long would it take to fix? Ten years? Fifteen? Even just five years would pretty much destroy every idea I'd ever had about where my life would go. And then..."

"What happened then?"

And then I triggered. A tinker trigger. An unsolvable problem builds up over an extended period and comes to a head in a critical instant. The world peels back and you get to see the entities with all their passengers, arbitrarily picking who gets to have powers and who doesn't. And lucky me, I had a giant meat computer with my name on it.

And then it happened. The Celestial Forge. My trigger got hijacked by a passenger from outside the cycle. No memory loss for me. I got to see the entire horrible operation in action. All the mechanisms, the motivations of the shards, and how they restrict, manipulate, and alter their hosts. And I got to choose if I wanted the power or not.

I also got to see what I would have ended up with otherwise. Extended periods of isolation means control tinker. The added fun of triggering under a bad reaction to antidepressants meant a dual specialty. It was a bad joke. I always wanted to be a tinker. Fate leads me to a tinker trigger and what do I get to specialize in? Bioengineering and Neurochemistry.

I don't even like normal chemistry. The specialties came with no more mechanical knowledge than was absolutely necessary to facilitate their work. And the work in question was some of the worst tinkering imaginable.

It was like someone took the phrases 'Make Friends' and 'Change Your Mind' and decided to use them as tag lines for a horror movie. That's basically what my tinker power would have been. Nilbog meets Heartbreaker by way of Bonesaw.

And I would have gotten all those lovely powers while under the influence of drugs that seriously compromised my mental state, while in a house with people I was currently furious with, and with a passenger who would have had no intention of moderating my response.

I took the Celestial Forge and never looked back.

"I left."

He raised an eyebrow. "You just left the house?"

I rubbed the back of my neck. "There were some harsh words first, but yeah. Busses weren't running that late so I just walked back."

"All the way from Captain's Hill?"

I nodded. "It gave me time to think. I had a lot to sort out. When I got back I kind of cut off contact and started trying to get my life together."

He smiled at me. "Good."

I blinked. "Good?"

"This is clearly a positive step for you. You're looking in better form than I've ever remember seeing you, and you took a sensible action in a highly stressful situation. That's excellent progress."

I let out a slow breath. "I doubt my family will see things that way."

"You need to focus on your own care and what's right for you." His words were measured, but his expression implied some much stronger denouncements for my family and that raised my spirits.

"I'm glad you see it like that. I've been worried about what I did." I flinched. "You know, how it came across."

"From the sound of things you've been handling yourself very well. New connections and opportunities, a positive outlook, and a serious attempt to move on. All of that is a very good indication."

It was mostly the same kind of affirmations that I'd heard throughout my therapy, but this seemed a little more sincere. Or maybe I was just able to believe it now? My passenger was still holding himself back, but what little I could pick up from him seemed supportive. None of this was easy to believe, not with my history, but maybe I could do it.

"Thank you." The words felt like a bad underservice, but from Dr. Campbell's expression he seemed to appreciate them. He smiled and nodded.

"Is there anything else you would like to talk about?"

Yes, but cape stuff is pretty much off the table, so probably not.

"I think I'm alright..." I cut myself off at the sound of a distant rumbling. It wasn't thunder. I knew too much about the mechanics of these kind of things. That was an explosion. More than that, it was a series of explosions.

Dr. Campbell looked towards the window. "What was that?" Suddenly the lights cut out and the office dropped into darkness. The full implication of what was happening hit me.

"Fuck." The word echoed around the darkened room.

"It's alright, I have a light." He fished out a cellphone and activated the flashlight.

"Fuck, it wasn't supposed to happen this early." I rose to my feet. "Lung isn't being moved until next week."

"What are you talking about?" He looked up at me with confusion.

"It's the ABB. Baukda started a bombing spree!" All calm had left my voice as the implications raced through my mind.

Dr. Campbell's face was grim in the dim light. "Are you sure?"

"Those were explosions. This was in the works since Lung was captured." I grabbed my helmet. "I've got to go."

"Joe? Where are you going?" His voice was thick with concern.

Crap, what do I say here? "I have to leave."

"That's not a good idea." He spoke levelly, but his expression was morose. "If there is a bombing spree going on you need to stay off the roads. You can wait here until its safe, or at least until the power comes back on. It won't be safe on the streets until then."

"No, I have to go, now." The anxiety I was feeling was badly creeping into my voice, and it wasn't helped by my passenger reinforcing all of my concerns.

He gave me a hard look. "Joe, I never believed you were a risk to yourself, but as a doctor I can't condone you entering into a situation like this."

I grit my teeth. There would be a potential liability issue if he let a patient enter a dangerous situation. I didn't think that was the main reason, but he was clearly willing to use it if it would keep me safe. I appreciated the sentiment as much as I hated the action.

What the hell could I do here? My options were massively limited. I doubted he would stop me if I just ran out, but that would damage our relationship. It might also require him to report things which could cause a whole host of problems for me in the future.

There was one option that would get me out. Did I trust him enough for it? Well, it would be his job at the very least if he tried anything with it, and I couldn't afford to let this delay me any longer.

"Dr. Campbell." I spoke slowly and clearly. "That night with my family was the worst night of my life. I can say it was a specific Event that was particularly bad. But that's behind me. I've changed, my life has changed, and now the city is being attacked by a supervillain and. I. Have. To. Go." I looked him dead in the eyes. "Do you understand me?"

I watched as comprehension slowly dawned across his face. "Oh." There was a pause and he seemed to realize that wasn't enough. "I see."

I nodded. "So, can I leave?" I edged towards the door.

"Uh, yes. Of course." I started to go before he added. "I'll see you next week."

I stopped dead in my tracks. "Excuse me?"

"With everything you've dealt with, and everything you're going to be dealing with I'm not going to leave you without support. I'd like to meet with you once a week to make sure you're doing alright."

I was stunned by his suggestion and the idea that anyone could be 'alright' in this type of work. "I don't think my coverage..."

"It'll be off the books. No records." He ran a hand over his beard. "I know you'll want to make a difference out there. Let me help you this way. You might be managing things for now, but I cannot overstate how stressful this new… business is. Once a week, just to check in."

I nodded. "I can handle that, but for now..."

"Go. Do what you can. Officially our session has ended before the power outage." He smiled at me. "There's no record of this."

"Thank you." I nodded and rushed out the door before his reply. If my passengers foresight was any indication the city was about to burn and I had to do everything in my power to stop it.

I just hoped I it would be enough.

Jumpchain abilities this chapter:

Beauty in the Arts (God of War) 200:
The Greeks and their gods have an eye for the aesthetics of their surroundings. Whether it is the statues around them, or the floors they walk upon, or the things they carry and wield, it is better if it is appealing. Your ability to design any of your crafts has increased with this knowledge, able to appeal to form without sacrificing function. Regardless of what you create, it's going to look good enough that the gods might take notice... might. Whether this is a good thing or a bad thing is for you to decide.
 
16.1 Interlude Weld
16.1 Interlude Weld

Weld suppressed any reaction to his current situation, falling back on his extensive public relations training. It wasn't easy. Generally these things were better planned and exectuted, but like everything since he touched down at the Brockton Airport this morning the event had a sense of desperation that was highly unnerving.

"Damn it, this isn't going to work. I'm getting nothing but glare."

"We could wait for a cloud? Something to diffuse the light?"

"Look around. You see any clouds? We'd need to get a screen set up, and that's not happening. Whose job was it to read the weather forecast?"

"It was supposed to be good light for the photoshoot!"

He ignored the bickering of the publicist and photographer. As one of the more photogenic Case 53s he had done more than his share of publicity work, promotions, and even some acting. He had seen this kind of thing before, but you never really got used to it. Out of all the things he had to deal with because of his 'condition' excessive glare when being photographed under bright sunlight was a fairly minor one. If he was back in Boston the PR department would have known how to deal with it, but it seemed Brockton hadn't had that level of foresight.

He'd been talking about the potential of a transfer with Director Armstrong for ages. It was clear what the purpose of it really was. The leader of the Brockton Wards was set to promote out of the program in a few months. It created a convenient leadership opening on a team big enough to be nationally relevant while small enough to be manageable. A perfect situation for someone to sweep in and make a name for themselves.

Weld was painfully aware of his trailblazer status among Case 53s. Some of it bordered on tokenism. First Case 53 to get a national ad campaign. First Case 53 to appear in more than a single episode of a TV show. Then there was that meme that just refused to die.

He understood how important it was, how much it meant to the rest of the Case 53s, or even just the 'monstrous capes' out there. Hunch, his teammate back in the Boston Wards, had practically worshipped him despite the fact that the boy's own physical traits would never let him 'enjoy' the spotlight like Weld did.

There were times when he hated the entire situation, but he'd learned to focus on the good things. He had a fresh start and a new team, even if the introduction and promotional shoot was turning out a little rocky.

"It's no good. We'll have to fix it in post."

"You think there's time for that? These are supposed to be circulating this afternoon. You want to leave the new leader of the Wards out of the publicity shots? Screw it, just slap on a tinted lense and we'll adjust the balance of the rest of the photos to match."

He held his position as the PRT employees bickered with each other. It was one of his lesser talents, but the diminished sensation in his skin coupled with the reduced physical demands of his body meant he could effectively hold a pose indefinitely. Well, not indefinitely, but longer than any photoshoot would require. Behind him the Protectorate Headquarters glistened in the same bright sunlight that was causing so many problems for this shoot.

The rest of the Wards, he hadn't been able to think of them as 'his team' just yet, had finished their own photos and were off interacting with the crowd, signing autographs, and generally doing their best to pretend that the entire hero framework of the city hadn't been turned on its head over the past couple of days. There was a particular flurry of activity around the purple costumed form of Flechette. As the other new arrival she had novelty value, though for a different reason than his own. She was decent at dealing with the public, not a natural but clearly someone who took their PR lessons seriously.

The performance of the Brockton Wards was a mixed bag. He could understand why they needed to play to the public, to show that things were alright, but something like this seemed callous so soon after Thursday's… event.

Event. Right. They still didn't have an official name for it, probably because most of the names people would default to involved too much profanity. That was the real reason for this show, a desperate attempt to get anything else circulating through the news cycle. He remembered the first time he had seen the footage from the end of that event. After that it was unlikely any cape battles involving wards would see a live broadcast for a long time. Generally you shouldn't have footage of an incident that would be inappropriate viewing for the age of the people involved in it.

They had brought the full roster out for this event, even Shadow Stalker, who had missed the mess at the bank. The girl looked incredibly out of place in the clear midday sunlight. The aesthetic of her costume clashed sharply with those of her teammates. The rest of the wards were in bright colors with smooth lines and clear angles. The designs fit in with the look of more prosperous parts of the city, the Protectorate Headquarters, the skyscrapers of the downtown area, the boardwalk.

In contrast she looked designed for the more decrepit parts of the city. The Docks, they had called it. Weld had only seen it while flying in, but the division was stark. Boston had its share of historic regions mixed with modern advancement, but there was a fundamentally different feel to it. Despite all the problems with Boston's older areas, particularly regarding traffic, there was a certain pride in them. With this city it was like they were ashamed of half their neighborhoods. Weld wondered if that sentiment bled over to the dark themed Ward who was only being approached by the most adventurous members of the public.

Next to Shadow Stalker the least outgoing Ward was clearly Browbeat. The hulking boy was a contradiction as he tried to avoid attention while towering over the rest of the team. Some people just seemed to hate the spotlight, and he appeared to be one of them. It was a bad combination for a Protectorate cape, even more so for the Ward's program where the bulk of your duties involved some level of community outreach.

Browbeat apparently had the only real victory to come from this mess, and was being touted as such, much to the boy's annoyance. He had at least destroyed one of the Undersiders' weapons before being taken out of commission himself. Weld had never seen so much emphasis being put on the damaging of a single piece of tinker tech, but with how dark the situation had turned out to be it was one of the few rays of light and was being played up for all it was worth.

It had bought the young cape a level of attention that he seemed at a loss for how to handle. Clockblocker, Kid Win, and Vista were engaging the public with jokes, autographs and harmless displays of their powers. Clockblocker froze an autograph pen while handing it back to a fan, then posed for a selfie with said fan and the suspended object. Vista was creating distortions behind her that it had taken Weld a while to realize were bringing the Rig into focus for anyone who wanted a photo. Even Kid Win was managing a bit of flash to his actions. Browbeat was doing nothing more than nodding and signing autographs.

At least for the rest of the team it was an encouraging shift from the mood that permeated the group when he'd met with them before the presentation. The team's faces had reminded him of after actions reports from encounters with S-Class threats. Between his meetings with Director Piggot and the Youth Guard investigator he'd barely had time for a quick series of introductions before they'd had to leave for the event. He hoped, seeing how things seemed to be turning around, that this posting wouldn't be as bad as it seemed.

Apparently he was not that fortunate.

"Well, that was a fucking waste of time."

The ride back to the PRT Headquarters had dispelled any hopes he'd had of this situation being easy to resolve. As soon as they were out of the public eye a black cloud seemed to settle over the team. Shadow Stalker was the only one who seemed actively hostile, which was odd considering she hadn't even been at the bank. Had she been close to Aegis or Gallant?

"Take it easy Sophia, it's part of the job." Clockblocker had been quiet since they boarded the vans and even this interaction seemed stilted and artificial.

"Yeah, well I wouldn't have to give up my day off if you idiots hadn't screwed up so royally."

Vista's face darkened. "That's not fair and you know it."

"Yeah right. Outnumbered them and had the element of surprise and you still fucked it up. Just because your crush ran off in shame you think it's 'not fair'?"

"That's enough." Clockblocker's tone was completely at odds with everything Weld had seen from his public persona. Sophia just shot him an ugly look.

"You think being third in line means anything? Piggot would rather bring in fresh blood than let a moron like you run things."

Weld bristled slightly as attention shifted towards him and Flechette. Of all the concerns that had caused his transfer to be rushed Clockblocker's leadership potential was certainly not among them. This wasn't good. He had expected an adjustment period, not this level of open hostility.

"That's not what this is about. You were out of line."

"No, what this is about is the rest of you fucked up so bad we've got that bitch from the Youth Guard sniffing around. Or am I the only one they've inflicted that on?"

"You're not." Flechette spoke up. "We both had meetings. It's standard practice after a major incident."

Sophia looked less than mollified. "Whatever. I need a shower. After that bullshit I'm swimming in this costume. Out of the way midget." The girl dumped her cape and mask on the couch and pushed past Vista towards the locker rooms.

Flechette looked conflicted as she watched the girl strut away. She didn't seem to be having any better luck connecting with the local team than he was. They'd known each other from training exercises, but Weld was reluctant to rely on that lest it cause and even worse dynamic between the new arrivals and the rest of the team.

Clockblocker let out a sigh before turning towards the two of them. "Sorry about that. Sophia can be a little intense."

"By that he means she's a gigantic bitch." Vista glared at the other Wards as if daring them to contradict her. Kid Win shrank away, Clockblocker just looked tired, and Browbeat diverted his eyes.

"Uh, I've got console duty for this afternoon. Better get on that." The bulky cape slunk off to the operations room while avoiding Vista's eyes.

"Yeah, I've got to get to my lab." His hand shifted to one of his forearms where a device Weld recognized as part of the boy's flying skateboard was mounted. When Director Armstrong had first shown Weld the footage from the bank he had been shocked at the destruction of tinker tech by the Undersiders' weapons. Even if nothing else happened the loss of a full suit of power armor and what was clearly Kid Win's most prized possession would have been a dire setback for the tinker and the team.

Then Aegis made his last desperate strike and suddenly no one was thinking about the loss of tinker tech anymore.

The team's tinker had mounted the damaged pieces of his board on the outside of his costume, turning them into an improvised set of bracers and greaves. Weld had seen him fiddling with exposed electronics or parts of the paneling when he thought no one was looking, occasionally moving a component from one part to another. The parts were somehow still active, which was remarkable in its own way. He'd seen bursts of thrust from the equipment that allowed bounding leaps onto the platform at the introduction and a trick where he held a fan's action figure floating in some kind of suspension field. He would say the cape was making the best of a bad situation, but he seemed genuinely engaged with the damaged components rather than mourning their loss.

As Kid Win peeled off part of his armor on the way to his lab Weld shared a wince with Flechette. The boy's exposed skin was a rainbow of unpleasant shades, yellow, purple, blue. Basically a giant bruise covered half of the cape's body. It was incredible he hadn't shown discomfort during the press conference or autograph session. Was he on painkillers? Clockblocker saw their reaction and broke in.

"Chris was with the director when Panacea dropped by. He missed out on the healing, and now, you know." He pulled off his mask and they could see his concerned expression.

Weld tensed and so did Flechette. By the looks of things Vista was well aware of the reason for their discomfort. The account of the encounter with the healing cape had been the most pressing driver for their transfer. It may have happened sooner or later, but it's unlikely Weld would have been rushed out with little preparation and a set of special orders from Armstrong.

"You're lucky to have a healing cape nearby. Even in New York there are only a few who can handle that kind of thing, and usually it's not worth the trouble of contracting them." The group's attention shifted to Flechette. "How is she doing since the incident? Have you heard anything?"

Clockblocker smiled at her and edged closer to Flechette. "From what I heard she slept for about eleven hours, then spent the day eating snacks and reading. Once she learned she wasn't getting out of there she kind of turned the whole thing into a mini-vacation."

Vista smirked. "They let you request stuff to see if there's a pattern, check for influences, that kind of thing. Unlimited snacks are pretty much the only good thing about being stuck in that tank."

Weld shared a quick glance with Flechette. Thanks to his nearly unique Manton interactions he didn't really have to worry about master effects, but he'd seen their impact on both teammates and other capes. It was unsettling seeing someone as young as Vista talk about Master/Stranger protocols so casually.

Clockblocker seemed as inured to the concept as Vista was. He closed the last of the distance to the new capes. "Uh, just wanted to say, despite what Sophia said there's no hard feelings about the transfer." Flechette's eyes darted towards the locker room, missing the darkening of Vista's expression. "I wasn't trying to challenge your authority or anything. I wasn't set to be leader for a long time, I'm just trying to help with this mess." There was a brittle edge to his smile and Weld noticed he looked fairly tired. The image of what happened to him at the bank, the close up of time frozen bugs invading his still conscious face, it would wear on anyone.

"Don't worry about it. We expected an adjustment period. This was short notice for everyone." There was a huff from Vista that the girl immediately tried to downplay.

"It's fine. We appreciate you trying to smooth things over." The time cape's smile warmed at Flechette's words and he nodded towards her.

"How are things going? You had any time to settle in yet?"

Flechette shook her head. "It's been nonstop since I got here. They don't even have permanent accommodations ready yet. I've got one of the overnight rooms upstairs assigned to me."

He looked confused. "You're not staying down here? I thought that was pretty common for Wards?"

Weld broke in. "Usually it would be fine, but, you know, Youth Guard."

"What's wrong with it?" Vista was digging through the fridge without leaving her place on the couch. The effect reminded Weld of an old TV with a messed up signal.

"Apparently there's a state law prohibiting renting an apartment without a window. They won't accept less regulation for a teenage cape than you get for a basement apartment. Hence, no natural light, no Ward accommodations." There were also some choice words about effectively sealing the team in a bomb shelter one level away from the villain cells. That hadn't looked good for anyone involved.

Clockblocker nodded along. "So you're set up for the moment, right? I can show you around the building if you like?" He had spoken to Flechette, but shifted his stance slightly to let Weld know he'd be welcome as well.

The girl shook her head. "I think I'll try to rest up for the thing tonight. Clean up, maybe catch some TV?"

The redheaded boy looked a bit disappointed, but rallied. "How about you?"

Weld shook his head. "I've got more meetings, introductions with the response teams, protocol briefings, then an appointment with Armsmaster." It was set to be an unpleasant afternoon, and not just due to the tedium. He looked over the collection of couches and armchairs. None of them would take his weight. Neither would anything in the quarters he'd been assigned. He doubted any of the conference rooms would fare any better. He'd have to stand through this whole mess, which just made all parties involved feel uncomfortable.

The other boy nodded. "Right, well I'll see you tonight." He wandered off towards the men's side of the locker rooms, leaving them alone with Vista.

Weld was ready to relax, but then he caught the look in the shaker's eye and saw the slight distortions at the edge of the room. Flechette tensed and he noticed her hand twitch towards her arbalest before she stopped herself.

"I know why you're here."

It should have been ridiculous, a twelve year old girl trying to look tough, but something about this situation told Weld he needed to treat this seriously.

"What do you mean?" The world was blurring in the corners of his eyes. It was a highly unsettling experience and he was clearly handling it better than Flechette, who looked ready to bolt. It was one of the side benefits of his biology. All his internal organs were solid metal. They didn't produce stress hormones like other people experienced. It created a life without highs, but also let him keep a level head in situations like this.

"Don't patronize me. I have more experience than most of the members of this team." More than anyone on the team now that Aegis and Gallant were gone, but somehow Weld didn't think pointing that out would be a good decision. "I know how these things go. There's always another reason." She pointed at Weld. "Boston." Then at Flechette. "New York." She smiled darkly. "I've read the transcripts."

Flechette cleared her throat. "It's not what you think."

"Oh? So you're not here to recruit Mammon?" She gave both of them an accusatorial glare. "Your departments didn't send you out with promises of amnesty and probably all kinds of other goodies for that monster?"

More emotions were breaking into her words as she spoke. 'Monster'. That was the result of a front line experience as opposed to the analysis from someone one city away. Weld could see condensation on the inside of her visor. He couldn't clearly see her eyes but he could only imagine what they would look like right now.

Flechette looked at him hopefully and he took a half step forward. His footing wasn't as stable as he expected, but he avoided reacting or looking down. Vista's shaker rating was definitely well earned.

"Amnesty is a standard Protectorate policy, particularly for cooperative capes. It's more effective at getting minor villains and villainous leaning rogues off the street than any term of prison."

"Minor Villains?" Her voice was thick with sarcasm. "So your plan is to stick a master in the middle of the Protectorate and hope for the best?"

"You've read the transcript, right? The signs aren't pointing that strongly towards master. If anything gets confirmed that will change things, and you know it."

"It doesn't matter. He still attacked Amy. He still made those murder knives and gave them out like it was nothing." Her voice dropped. "What if he gave them to the Merchants? Or the Empire? Do you know what the typical members of those gangs get up to on a regular basis? What they have to do to earn membership?"

"There's no indication that will happen." Flechette qualified. "With what he's done so far..."

"So far? What, did you watch it on TV and think it was bad? You didn't see the aftermath. You didn't see them loading parts of your teammate into an ambulance, or taking a circular saw to someone's armor after they were sealed in it like a coffin. You didn't see the nicest, most caring girl in the city limping off with a shattered hand. So what, you're just going to hand out absolution like it's nothing? Like nothing happened?"

Weld fell back into his training as he squared his shoulders and spoke. "Official department policy is to limit contact and report to headquarters upon encounter with the undesignated supply cape. No support, resources, or collaboration are permitted. If there were any other orders in play, particularly involving the legal aspects of an active case, we would not be at liberty to discuss them."

Vista grit her teeth as she looked between Weld and Flechette. "Fine, do whatever you want. It's not like it matters. Nothing ever does." With two steps through a confusing distortion of space the girl had crossed the rec area and slammed the door to her room in a way that for some reason left Weld feeling more like a frustrated parent that a leader of a team of superheroes.

"Well..." Flechette drew out the word. "That could have gone better.

Weld slumped. "Tell me about it. I'd heard stories about this town, but before that news report, before seeing it in person, I don't think I really believed them."

She nodded. "Apparently it's the highest cape per capital in the country, excluding small towns where entire teams set up."

"High rate of local triggers, then the cape community draws in more capes. How long has this been snowballing for?"

Flechette shrugged and pulled off her visor. Without the mask he could let himself think of her as Lily again. It was good practice for not messing up names in the field. "Years? Decades? Depends on if you're talking about the current mess or the city in general." She slumped onto a couch, then looked over to him and realized his situation. She made to get back to her feet, but Weld waved her off. At least one of them should be able to relax.

"I thought I knew what I was getting into, but these guys have seen way more combat that any Ward is supposed to. In Boston unless you're a serious brute they sideline you from anything remotely dangerous." Weld happened to count as a 'serious brute'.

"Same in New York," She glanced off to the side. "Mostly."

"Mostly?" Weld moved around and leaned gently on one of the sturdier pieces of furniture. It sagged under just a fraction of his weight.

"Well, I have this villain..."

He smirked at her. "Show off."

She gave him and annoyed look. "Trust me, it's not what it's cracked up to be. Everyone wants a nemesis until they have to deal with them on a regular basis." She sighed. "Anyway, the brass vets any groups we're cleared to mobilize against. Nothing worse than the Undersiders, or the level of what their reputation was before all of this happened."

Her voice trailed off at the end of the statement and Weld nodded to her. There was still some debate on if the Undersiders would have stayed as reserved as they'd been known for if the Wards had handled things differently. It was all academic now, they had made themselves a priority threat and there was no going back from that.

Lily shook her head. "Anyway, it's actually sort of like what happened with the Undersiders."

Weld furrowed his brow. "How so?"

"She'd join up with one of the 'safe' groups and start pushing them towards higher profile stuff. She's a thinker-striker, good a coordinating people. The groups she joined would get a lot more brutal and effective until they were taken off the list of approved Ward engagements. Then she'd move on to the next group."

Weld grimaced as he pictured the chain of events. "Any chance she'll follow you here?"

She didn't look pleased at the prospect. "Who knows? This place is already crazy enough, so it's not really her speed. I can't really see her fitting in with any of the established gangs, though the thought of her in the Undersiders isn't exactly pleasant."

"I don't think they limit engagements here. Earlier Clockblocker was telling me about a time the Wards drove back Lung."

Lily clenched her jaw. "Vista? I saw her getting changed in the locker room. The girl has scars. Old ones." She looked towards the girls closed door. "It's no wonder she's like that. She's been front lining for years, and she triggered young."

"No wonder the Youth Gard is on the warpath."

Lily glanced towards the locker room. "What do you think of Shadow Stalker?"

Weld made a show of looking contemplative. "Well, I think you can do better than her."

She took a playful swipe at him. "You're an asshole. Seriously though, what's up with her?"

"I got a briefing, but there's not much I can talk about. She's on probation and has some bad stuff in her past. Started as a vigilante and apparently had a rough time of it." He shook his head. "I'm going to have to push for therapy for this team, aren't I?"

"If half of what I heard about this place is true I'm surprised it's not already mandatory."

"Are you okay with it? I can't allow any exemptions if I want this to go through?"

She nodded. "I can deal."

Weld noticed her glancing towards the locker room again. "So, still keeping that quiet?"

She shrugged. "It's less that it's a secret and more not wanting to deal with the press. Can't just be gay, I'd have to be an icon for the movement."

He frowned. "Tell me about it."

She nodded slowly. "Sorry, I forgot."

"Don't worry. I honestly prefer it when people do."

She smiled at him. "So, any details you're not allowed to share about the recruitment of a possible-tinker possible-shaker that we are definitely not supposed to refer to as Mammon?"

"I'm guessing the same as you, make contact and find out if he's serious about joining outside the city."

Flechette's expression turned grim. "I can tell you, the New York Protectorate wants that healing power. They want it bad. They're not sharing exact details, but the sense I've gotten is they've been run ragged recently. Between the Adapts and the Elite things have been bad enough, but apparently the Teeth set up a cell recently."

Weld nodded as things fell into place. "Butcher."

"Butcher Fourteen. Amongst all the other powers she deals festering wounds, that's from Butcher Four, and has perfect accuracy from her own ability. Add the fact that no one wants to risk lethal force and every encounter has bad injuries piling up. Not the biggest problem on its own, but the other gangs are taking advantage every time a cape gets knocked out of commission. They need a healer on staff to the point they're willing to forgive a lot worse thas what's happened here."

Weld considered things. "I think Panacea may have spoiled this city."

Lilly looked surprised at his statement. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, without her this place would have boiled over long ago. If your capes are out of commission for hours instead of weeks it lets you ignore how bad the problem is. Without her they would have needed to send in the Triumvirate ages ago, or at least some other relief force. Hell, just having half the Wards show up to school in Kid Win's current condition would have had this place choked by Youth Guard oversight."

The girl looked uncomfortable with the idea. "She couldn't make that much of a difference, could she?"

"From what I heard the girl overworks herself to an insane degree. I saw her at this charity gala thing once, it was for the anniversary of the Boston Games. She was dead on her feet and asleep before dessert. Apparently did a tour of cancer wards before the dinner and her sister had to drag her out of the Massachusetts General ICU."

Lily shook her head. "What about you? Anything you definitely aren't allowed to tell me?"

He grinned. "You're going to love this. Apparently Accord reached out to Director Armstrong before I left."

"About the new cape? What did he want? Is he trying to block recruitment?"

"All Accord said was that he would not oppose the new cape's presence in the city. From that guy it's practically a ringing endorsement."

"So what, he wants to fight someone with good design sense?"

Weld just shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe he's hoping to get enough of the new guy's work on the rest of the heroes to hold off his OCD, or whatever. It's not anything like a deciding factor, but Accord has been known to make life hell for capes who get on his bad side, hero or villain. With the Chain Gang picking up steam Armstrong would welcome at least one thing he didn't have to worry about."

Lily waved away the idea. "Probably would have an easier time up there than in this city, at least if Vista is any indication."

"Probably. Hopefully things will calm down in a few days."

She smirked. "Providing we're not caught in a gang war before then."

"I know this place has a reputation, but it's not like there's constant cape fights. We're probably due for a lull."

"Providing you didn't just jinx us."

"Sure." He stretched his back. "I've got to get going."

"Good luck." She smirked. "Fearless leader."

He waved her off and headed out to his PRT meetings, which proved exactly as tedious and awkward as he feared. Of course everyone apologized on behalf of someone else who was supposed to provide adequate seating. It was the same chorus through the afternoon as he familiarized himself with local response procedures, major initiatives, and Protectorate policies that he probably knew better than the people giving the presentation. It was honestly a relief to find himself in a van crossing the force field road access to the Protectorate HQ.

It didn't really sit right with him how divided the two sides of the organization seemed to be in this city. Having separate headquarters was common enough, but having one in the middle of the city and the other floating remote and inaccessible seemed designed to foster division. Weld had the sense that this situation had been developing for a very long time and, more concerningly, probably had politics behind it.

Weld exited the van to find a figure in blue and silver armor waiting for him. He recognized Armsmaster from promotional materials. Usually he was next to Bastion on the group shots of Protectorate team leaders. The van's shocks sprung back as Weld stepped onto the platform of the Rig. His eyes briefly flicked around at the massive amount of exposed steel he was surrounded with, acutely aware that one misstep would result in the lengthy and embarrassing process of extracting himself from the structure.

Suddenly he didn't want to move at all.

He was pulled from his apprehension by Armsmaster stepping forward and extending a hand.

"Weld? Welcome to the Protectorate East North East Headquarters. Thank you for joining us."

He glanced at the extended gauntlet ready to have to explain his situation when he noticed a slight film across the exposed metal. Actually, all of the tinker's equipment had the same barrier attached. It was a relief that at least someone had been prepared for his visit, but He wasn't sure about putting his faith in less than a millimeter of plastic. Still, this was one of the best tinkers in the country. He probably knew what he was doing.

Weld shook the extended hand and mercifully did not find himself fused to the gauntlet. The impurities he focused into his hands could help prevent involuntarily absorbing metal he touched, but they wore off quickly and there always seemed to be patches he missed. He really didn't want to show up to that night's charity event with half of Armsmasters gauntlet fused to his hand.

"I'd like to review some items with you, then we can depart for the Forsberg Gallery. PR thought it would be a good sign of solidarity to have the leaders of the Protectorate and Wards arrive together."

"Thank you sir. That sounds fine."

With a nod Armsmaster started walking, leaving Weld to follow, keeping a close eye on any exposed metal as he did. The precautions Armsmaster had taken had not been extended to the rest of the Rig, leaving the walk a harrowing experience. He knew he had enough space to walk down the corridor, but he couldn't help but scrunch his shoulders as he moved.

It seemed to take an eternity to reach Armsmaster's Lab. He was a little impressed they came here rather than some meeting room or office. He knew how protective tinkers could get about their workspaces. That just made him even more concerned about accidently fusing with something.

Weld relaxed slightly at the sight of a heavily reinforced plastic coated chair sitting opposite a work desk.

"Please, sit down." Armsmaster gestured to the chair as he settled behind the desk. Weld quickly sank into the seat. His body didn't get tired like a normal person, but there was a certain mental exhaustion that built up over the day. A chance to sit down and collect his thoughts was vital to his sanity, and this was his first opportunity since he disembarked his flight early this morning.

Armsmaster gave Weld a level look from across the desk. "Now, I trust you're aware of the situation this city finds itself in?"

That seemed a loaded question, but Weld seriously doubted he was looking for a critique of the local parahuman dynamic. So, in all likelihood he was discussing current events.

"Your capture of the leader of the ABB altered the power dynamic, so probably a conflict between local gangs or a possible new player. Additionally there's a chance for retribution from the remnants of the ABB. There's also..." How should he put this? "expanded hostility from the Undersiders in addition to the unknown factor of their equipment supplier."

The bearded man nodded. "Exactly. Brockton has seen gang conflicts before. The local forces are known to the Protectorate and skirmishes between them will be manageable. New capes, however, are an unknown and highly disruptive factor. The event at the bank proves as much."

Weld nodded. "I heard you were opposed to the idea of Khepri being the supplier of the Undersiders' weapons." Armsmaster sat slightly taller at that. "How did you figure that out?"

"Experience and intuition." He answered very quickly. "There are factors to this job that you can only pick up with time in the field." Weld nodded. He had hoped for something more tangible, but sometimes gut instincts were an important part of hero work. "Our main concern is the new cape. Widespread distribution of his weapons could be disastrous and seriously shift the power balance in the city."

Weld raised an eyebrow. "Sir, do you think that's likely? Judging from his interactions with Panacea..."

Armsmaster cut him off before he could finish. "Those are suspect until the Think Tank provides a final report. With an admitted association with Tattletale we can't trust anything said in that exchange. Unfortunately I've had to limit my analysis to physical evidence."

With a few keystrokes a rotating image of a curved blade appeared on the screen. The blade had a fracture where the handle would attach and Weld could recognize the shape of a Karambit from the numerous ones that had ended up as part of his body. Why people could see a metal cape and still decide to try a knife on him Weld would never understand.

"This is one of two samples of the capes work that we've been able to obtain. The edge..." A command caused the display to shift to a simulation showing atomic structure. "Is fully monomolecular, hardened with an unknown process that strengthens the atomic bonds and prevents the immediate decay that would be expected from such a structure. This allows the weapon to exert immense stress on its target, effectively shearing all but the densest materials without meaningful resistance." The display shifted to a series of material samples, all split with an unnerving smoothness.

"I've been briefed on the Undersiders' armaments."

"On their effects, yes, but there are additional aspects a work here." The display shifted again, showing a mock atomic structure. "This is amorphous metal, also known as metallic glass. A difficult material to create, this particular sample was simplified by its composition being precisely arranged to impede crystal formation..." The man seemed to realize he was losing Weld, and shifted to a summary. "The point is that the alloy used should be more reactive than is evident in the sample's behavior."

"So it should have rusted?"

The tinker snorted. "It should have oxidized to powder within hours of creation. Something is holding back corrosion and there's no discernable cause for the effect."

Weld could see where this was going. It didn't take a genius to figure out why a Ward who absorbed all metal that touched him was sent to a city where another Ward was just butchered with a metal knife. Theoretically he should be immune to these weapons regardless of how sharp they were. However if they had some unknown effect, whether tinker or shaker based, then who knows what could happen? He knew he could survive significant damage, at least as much as Aegis, but how much further would the Undersiders go?

Armsmaster must have been able to follow the chain of thought from his expressions. "With your permission I'd like to test a sliver of the sample against your durability and absorption powers. If anything will go wrong I'd rather we discover it here than in the field."

Weld could see the logic of it. He didn't like it, not after the amount of testing he'd had to endure as a Case 53, but it would be better to have it happen in controlled circumstances than deal with a magical mystery metal in the field. "How big a sample are we talking about?"

"Pieces were removed for edge mapping and spectrographic analysis measuring between 4 and 6 millimeters. We would use those in the tests."

Weld nodded. "I don't have a problem with it, but I'll need my guardian's permission."

"Director Armstrong, correct? I can reach out to him with the details to give you some time to discuss the matter."

"Thank you. Uh, could I see the samples?" Considering how often he'd had to deal with accidently absorbed objects it seemed silly to be nervous about this, but there were aspects to both tinker tech and shaker powers that could be a nightmare to deal with.

The man gave a professional smile. "Certainly, anything to assuage your concerns."

He led Weld over to a complicated piece of machinery embedded in the wall. He waited while Armsmaster worked a series of controls that caused small shifts and openings to move around in the device. Then he waited some more. Weld stood there watching Armsmaster work the controls with increasing desperation.

"Is something wrong?"

"They're not here." The Protectorate leader's voice was flat and lifeless.

"What?" Weld asked in confusion.

"The samples. They're gone." His body was stock still, an unnatural posture visible even through the power armor.

"Did you put them somewhere else?" Weld offered. "Or could someone have moved them?"

"I didn't put them anywhere else. And no one has access to this room in my absence." He turned suddenly and crossed the room in four long strides. There was a complicated series of motions and a portion of the wall folded open, extending a glass case.

An empty glass case.

"Is that supposed to be empty?"

"No. No it is not."

Weld could put the pieces together. "The knife?"

"Seemingly vanished."

"Someone stole it?" The implications were frightening.

The man shook his head. "No one could have gotten in here without tripping some kind of alarm. Not without serious mover, stranger, and breaker powers."

"Doesn't that new cape have a mover power?"

"It doesn't make sense. There are hundreds of more valuable things in here that someone could have taken. There's no reason to blow that kind of advantage over something this petty. Not unless..."

Once again he quickly crossed the room and began work on a console. A digitized face sprang up on one of the wall screens and an accented voice anyone in the protectorate would know began to speak. "Hello Armsmaster. How can I help you?"

"I need a status report on the metal sample I sent you." He asked, casually chatting with the most famous tinker on the planet.

"Just a moment. Oh, hello Weld. How is your transfer going?"

"Uh, just fine mam."

"That's excellent." The projected image on the screen seemed to be thinking. "Oh. Sample is not in its storage container. No sign of forced entry or unauthorized access."

"Last time the sample was confirmed present?" There was an edge of eagerness to his voice that seemed incongruous with the circumstances.

"Returned after an inductance test at 09:50 hours today. I'm guessing by your lack of surprise you can shed some light on this situation?"

"The main item and all ancillary samples vanished from my lab sometime in the last seven hours. There was no disruption of any other items and no sign of forced entry."

The digital avatar smiled. "So that means..."

"Shaker. Almost confirmed. We're looking at rapidly fading projections. I'd say thirty six to forty eight hours, possibly affected by external factors."

"I guess I owe you that drink. Of course, this means we could be seeing significantly more spread of the weapons, particularly if the cape is still getting a handle on his power. If he's unconstrained by tinker logistics there's no telling where his limits are."

"I'll start drafting up response scenarios." There was a chirp from the console. "Sending a report to the PRT with an updated assessment."

"I'll add my own as well, though this is just a data point, not a confirmation..." The image on the screen gave Armsmaster a sideways glance.

"Yes, yes, I know. Still, stronger evidence than anything so far." He turned and seemed momentarily surprised that Weld was still there. "I guess we'll have to hold off on testing for the time being."

"I'd recommend that." Offered Dragon's avatar. "Integrating shaker influenced material could have unpleasant effects."

"Yeah, I'd like to avoid that." He answered the projection nervously. It nodded at him and turned back to Armsmaster.

"I'll re-run some of my analysis with projection factors in mind, see what comes up."

"I'll check in with you after the Forsberg event."

"Looking forward to it. Nice meeting you Weld."

"You too." He replied somewhat awkwardly.

The screen blinked off. Armsmaster was still looking like Christmas had come early for a reason Weld couldn't quite place. Was a shaker that much less dangerous than a tinker? Sure, tinkers could be unpredictable, but a shaker could theoretically churn out weapons non-stop. That seemed substantially worse.

"Are you alright?" He seemed to have picked up on Weld's reaction.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine." Weld struggled for something to say. "So, you have Dragon on speed dial?"

He tried to put a teasing edge into his voice, but it was either deliberately ignored or went over the tinker's head. "We've collaborated on a number of projects. She's a highly valued colleague."

Anyone else would have read into a grinning man saying a line like that, but Weld got the sense there was some critical lack of awareness happening here, possibly on his part, but more likely not.

"Sir, is the shaker classification really that big of a deal? I mean, compared to tinker…"

Armsmaster seemed to suddenly become aware of the smile on his face and quickly resumed his stoic posture. "I'm simply pleased to have my theories validated. Unknown factors are the most dangerous element of engaging a cape, and this addresses one of the most significant x-factors we've been dealing with."

"I see. So in the event that I encounter the cape or one of the Undersiders?"

"I would recommend avoiding contact with the weapons, which is not a deviation from standard engagement processes. Browbeat will be relied on to take point in those situations." He glanced towards a bench on the other side of the room. "I'm working on a solution to that problem in the same vein as his defenses, but it won't be ready for deployment before the next predicted action by the team."

Weld nodded. "Any idea when that will be?"

"The Undersiders were consistently opportunistic, but generally operated some level of engagement at least every sixteen days with a median of nine days between operations. Depending on the nature of their relationship with the new cape and the conditions of supplying their equipment there could be an increase in the frequency or scale of their operations."

Weld nodded along. "What about the other gangs?"

"The most serious interaction the Undersiders had was with the ABB. Remnants of that group might strike out against them, but it's unlikely to be a concern. Models indicate we're more likely to see a new player attempt to enter the dynamic than a serious upset from one of the existing parties."

Weld didn't know how the man could be so certain, but Brockton Bay was a lot smaller than Boston. With fewer teams in conflict over less territory it probably made predictions more accurate.

"Are you prepared for the Gallery Event tonight?"

"I did a good amount of this kind of thing back in Boston. Is there anything I should be aware of in this city?"

Armsmaster considered. "With a smaller population and comparatively larger cape community you tend to see the same faces at most of these events. Generally they have a good dynamic with the heroes, but occasionally you can get someone becoming overly familiar. It's easy to erode the public reverence most people have for capes when you're seeing them twice a month and paying hundreds of dollars for the privilege. Be careful of making a bad impression because you'll likely run into the same person repeatedly, but at the same time remember to set clear boundaries."

Weld was familiar with the concept, though generally someone who turned cape stalker got flagged and intercepted from major events. In a city this size that might not be as apparent or practical.

"We'll be entering together after the rest of the capes have made their appearance. The mayor will want to greet you personally, which will mostly be a photo opp. I trust you can handle it?"

"Yes sir, I..." The tinker held up an arm and rushed over to a terminal where a light had started blinking.

"Sir?"

"Radio contact from within the PHQ, non-Protectorate signal." He entered some keystrokes and the display shifted. "No sign of forced entry, but motion sensors are picking up some activity on the lower level."

Suddenly the room shook around them as the sound of a chain of explosions echoed through the Rig. Weld desperately lurched for the coated and reinforced chair to avoid fusing with any of the lab's exposed metal.

"What was that?"

"Series of detonations. We've lost internal sensors, central computer, and the main communications array." Armsmaster's fingers flew across the console's controls and data streamed over the displays faster than Weld could follow.

Weld froze. "Is it the ABB? Bakuda trying to break out Lung?"

Armsmaster shook his head. "I have a direct link to the cells. There's no sign of activity there. For the rest of the Rig there could be more damage, but I can't get a reading. I don't know what they're trying to..."

He fell silent as a black clad man in a demon mask appeared between them. He had a bulky plastic cast around his right forearm, but was holding a small metal object in his left hand. Weld could see a camera mounted on the cape's mask with a wire leading to an earpiece.

Weld watched in shock as the villain slowly panned his head across the lab, completely ignoring the two of them. Armsmaster sprang into action before the Ward's brain had even fully processed what was happening. He launched himself across the room, a halberd jumping from his back into his hand and extending to its full length. The tinker struck true, but the assassin just collapsed into a pile of ash. The two heroes watched in horror as a dozen copies appeared around the lab and hurled the object they were holding.

Weld expected a barrage of grenades. Instead he watched as the devices attached themselves to equipment all around the room. Armsmaster swore and started shifting his halberd to emit a crackling burst of static, but before the transformation could accomplish anything the explosions started.

Rather than traditional blasts these bombs seemed to fracture whatever they were attached to. The objects split apart like shattering glass, then launched the large shards out in every direction at blinding speed. What wasn't destroyed by contact with a bomb was sundered by the flying debris.

Unfortunately one of the pieces of equipment targeted was the work desk immediately adjacent to Weld. Even with his diminished sense of touch the barrage of flying metal rocked him to his core. He remembered the sense of movement and the lab blurring past him before the crash of metal and the sharp impact that muddled his senses.

As he regained his focus he became aware of the screech of alarms and what sounded like a fire. He tried to move but found himself pinned. And examination showed part of a wall, a structural beam, and a portion of some of the lab machinery all fused with his body. He couldn't even shift far enough to try to break the material holding him, and that might be a completely lost cause for the wall. The Rig was under attack and he would be spending the entire time trying to absorb the metal he was attached to. The only other option was to shear off parts of his body and try to crawl free, hoping he didn't fuse with anything else on the way.

His mind flashed back to his very earliest memories. Waking up in that scrapyard as little more than a head. No knowledge of who he was or what was happening. The weeks of isolation before he figured out his powers enough to assemble a semblance of a body and finally leave. That maddening loneliness and sense of inaccessibility. Without realizing it he had begun to desperately thrash against the material pinning him in place.

"Weld?" The voice was horse but hopeful. Armsmaster had survived the attack.

"Over here! I'm pinned by the wall!" He tried to keep the desperation out of his voice but too many memories were flooding back, bringing irrational fears with them. What if the Rig sank? He would be pinned under thousands of tons of metal, unable to move, working his way through it at a snails pace. How long would it take him to get free? Weeks? Months? Would he even be sane after something like that? Would people know to look for him?

Relief flooded through him as Armsmaster appeared through the smoke and dust. His armor was dented and Weld could see blood tracing down from his cracked visor to stain his beard.

"Are you alright?" His breathing was heavy and had a concerning wet sound to it.

"I'm trapped. I can't break free. I'm going to have to separate parts of my body, and I'll be useless after that."

"Hold on, this might..." He fiddled with a small object and a flickering cloud of gray mist appeared around it. Unlike a normal cloud it was completely static, holding its shape exactly and moving with the object. With a shaking hand Armsmaster brought it to the wall fused with Weld's body. A spray of metallic dust sprang up from the point of contact as anything touching the cloud disappeared.

Weld held himself as still as he could while Armsmaster worked, but the device gave out before the last of the beam could be cut away. Despite the tinker's desperate attempts the cloud refused to reform. He still had random pieces of rubble attached to his body, but he was mostly mobile again. He shifted one hand into an axe head and brought it down on the section of beam still fused with his leg. The beam sheared off, but took some of his leg with it. It was fine. An acceptable loss.

"Thank you." He looked up, taking in the state of the room and the Protectorate leader. "Are you alright?"

"Better than I could have been. He was targeting the lab, not me. What reports I've gotten suggest a series of surgical strikes, not random bombings. The ABB has never been this coordinated before."

Weld grimaced at the implications. The damage that could be inflicted...

"What do we do?"

The tinker pulled himself straight with a wince and examined the remains of a halberd. He disconnected most of the damaged handle and gripped the remaining portion like a hand axe. "Lung is still on the rig. Oni Lee can't teleport him off, meaning he'll have to fight his way back to the mainland. This is our best and only chance of keeping things contained. Can I count on you?"

Weld remembered being buried under the rubble, the fears and flashbacks fresh in his mind. But he also saw the protectorate leader in front of him, underequipped and struggling to stay on his feet. He knew what he had to do.

"Absolutely." His hands shifted into blades, the type he was prohibited from using against anything less than top tier threats. "Let's go."
 
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17 Confrontation
17 Confrontation

I don't think I've ever moved as quickly as I did on my way out of Dr. Campbell's office. I'm not sure how much the life fiber exposure had enhanced my body, but I was treating stairs as gentle suggestions rather than actual things necessary to move between floors. If the stairwell had an open interior I seriously think I would have tried dropping down the center of it and trusting my healing and reinforcement to deal with any damage. All I wanted was to get out of this building and desperately try to do SOMETHING.

I felt, well I felt a lot of things right now. There was a certain emotional turmoil that came with even normal therapy sessions. A tour through the absolute worst day of my life was significantly more than a normal therapy session. If the city hadn't decided to descend into chaos I would probably have spent a good chunk of the night venting frustration on a punching bag at the gym then trying to catch up on something like a normal sleep schedule. Instead I was off rushing into a fight I was decidedly not ready for.

I was taking entire flights of stairs in a single bound when I felt the Celestial Forge connect to another mote. I was split between being annoyed at the interruption and being grateful for something else to think about than the impending doom of the city. It was actually only the second mote I had connected to from the Crafting constellation. The last one was Smithing, which gave me expert level ability in creating weapons and armor. This mote also gave the ability to make weapons, but weapons of a much more serious nature.

I thought I was good at making blades. I could make legendarily forged swords. I could make monomolecular edged weapons. I could make blades infused with runic magic. I could even forge melee weapons out of pure energon, though that was still theoretical and would require a bit of setup. I thought I had a handle on this melee weapon thing. With one this power I suddenly realized how ignorant that line of thinking was.

The power was called High-Frequency Manufacturer. Like many of my crafting powers I'm not sure what it enabled was physically possible before I got the ability to do it. Right now it seemed so blindingly obvious and so insanely effective I was embarrassed for not having realized it sooner. By applying an extreme frequency alternating current to a weapon I could then cause it to vibrate at levels where the edge would destabilize molecular bonds. Essentially I could turn anything with an edge into a weapon that could cut through anything.

Except force fields, because they seemed specifically designed to ruin my shit.

It was so easy to set up. Of course, that was easy by the standards of my current skill set and would probably have been a serious challenge if I was coming into this blind, but that wasn't really the point. This technology was actually seriously better than monomolecular blades. All that stuff about not being able to handle dense or thick material didn't apply to HF weapons. In fact, by stressing the charge frequency you could extend the destabilization area induced by the vibrations and actually split objects that were thicker than the length of your weapon. With a good enough weapon and enough power I could literally cut a building in half.

It was an incredibly powerful ability and would do absolutely nothing to help with the chaos currently being unleashed on Brockton Bay. I was not ready to counter this nightmare. The best I could hope would be to mitigate some of the damage, but that was a daunting prospect. This wasn't like a normal villain attack. Once a bombing happened the perpetrator didn't just stick around and wait for someone to show up. Just rushing to bomb sites wouldn't help me track down the ABB. I needed to stop Bakuda, but Lord knows where she was. Probably in a command center coordinating all of this mess.

At the moment my only serious option was to try to stop Lung from escaping. That meant getting to the Rig and engaging what would probably be a seriously boosted dragon-man alongside a team of heroes that would not be well disposed towards me. It was a shit plan, and depending on how powered up Lung was when I arrived it could easily turn into a disaster. Unfortunately at the moment it was my only option.

I burst out of the office onto the darkened streets of Brockton Bay. The late twilight sky was a deep purple rapidly fading to black. The city was not actually an inferno like I had feared, but from the looks of things we were under a complete blackout and I could still hear the occasional explosion. Not a constant barrage, but there really isn't an appropriate amount of your city to be blowing up at any given time.

Fortunately due to the dark area and lack of power I wouldn't have to worry about security cameras. I could find the nearest door, access my workshop, then hopefully get to the Rig before Lung either escaped or powered up to a point where no one would be able to stop him. That was when I heard my phone ring.

My work phone.

I pulled it out of my jacket as I kept moving towards my bike. A quick glance at the display showed Tattletale's number.

"What?" I barked as I held the phone to my ear and I kept moving.

There was heavy breathing on the line and serious background noise, like a crowd of people in chaos. "Hey." Tattletale's voice had a desperate edge to it. "You know that deal we set up? I'm going to have to call it in now."

"What? What's going on?"

"Well, we've run into a little..." There was the sound of a blast and what could have been raining debris. "Fuck it, there's no time to be cute. We're pinned down by the ABB. They jumped us when we were checking on the take from the bank. If you can't get here soon we're pretty much done for."

It sounded like she was running while trying to keep up with the call. I grimaced at the implications. This was absolutely the worst time for the Undersiders to need a bail out. There was no way a city wide blackout wouldn't have been coordinated with Lung's escape attempt. Any chance of stopping this depended on me acting immediately. With no idea about Bakuda's location Lung was my only option.

But if what Tattletale said was true, and from the desperation in her voice I didn't doubt it, the Undersiders were screwed. They had been at odds with the ABB and were instrumental in Lung's capture. It made sense that the gang would want revenge, I just expected any moves to be attempted after Lung was free.

"What happened?" I didn't like this. I mean I really didn't like this. Going to save them meant letting Lung go free. With Oni Lee having access to Bakuda's arsenal and no real preparation on the part of the Protectorate I didn't give them decent odds of countering the breakout. But if I abandoned the Undersiders that would mean abandoning Taylor. I still didn't know exactly how she was significant to saving the world. My passenger was damping the emotions connected to her, but there was still that conviction about her saving everyone.

I kind of resented my obligation here. I couldn't let her die. Even if that meant letting Lung free and giving up my chance to stop Bakuda's rampage.

"Bakuda's here."

...or maybe not.

"We're at the storage site past the train yard. She set a trap, turned the entire area into a damn arena for us. She's got Uber and Leet along with dozens of conscripted civilians. She put bombs in their heads to keep them loyal."

A sense of dread settled into my stomach. There it was. That was the bad, the serious, worst of the worst cape stuff I'd been anticipating. This wasn't the unfortunate but tolerable level of depravity the public had come to expect from supervillains. This was full on Slaughterhouse shit.

It also perfectly validated my concerns regarding using that storage site. I thanked my thinker power for that. At least I could go full bore without worrying about accidently damaging Garment's wardrobe. Priorities, right?

"I know the place." I signaled for my bike to follow and opened my workshop using the door of a nearby maintenance shed. "I'll get there as soon as I can. What else can you tell me?"

Her breathing was labored and it sounded like there was more than exhaustion behind that. "Bakuda's put a contingency in place, a pacemaker or something like that. Her heart stops and every bomb she's made goes off, both the implanted ones and everything around the city."

I winced at the news. That was a serious level of human shielding. It took lethal force completely off the table. I didn't know if I was actually able to kill someone, but Bakuda's current actions might have driven me to make the attempt.

No, that wasn't right. I did actually know if I would be able to kill someone. I had a lifetime of military training and experience drilled into my brain. I was a hundred percent confident that if it came down to it I would be able to take the shot, and that kind of terrified me. I might regret it and moralize over it later, but I had personal experience that would let me follow through. No matter how vague or indistinct that experience was it was still there and couldn't be denied. Effectively I was a trained, blooded soldier. It was chilling in terms of what it meant for my mind, but undoubtably an asset for going into this situation.

I guess that's one more quarter for the jar.

I put the phone on speaker and started stripping out of my clothes and changing into my new costume.

"The ABB is too coordinated. They have someone guiding things from behind the scenes. New cape, probably a thinker. I can't get a reading on them."

I put aside the concerns over my mental state and focused on the new aspects of this crisis while doing my absolute best to set a speed record for changing clothes. I decided then and there, once I get a shred of cybertonium I'm building a subspace storage pocket for all my equipment. I'm not getting caught in this nonsense again.

Tattletale continued as I struggled to get my armor pieces attached. "Bakuda's not doing random strikes. This is insanely well coordinated. Everything has been precisely timed. The blackout isn't just in the city. She's managed to knock out the entire region."

That was a nightmare, both in terms of the effects and what it would take to coordinate. Taking out a power station or relay wouldn't do it. You'd either need a large scale EMP, which had obviously not been used, or need to trigger a specific overload cascade in the power network. Possible, but insanely complicated.

"What's your situation? How long can you hold out?"

I pulled on my cowl and visor and started attaching my pouches of reagents. Fortunately I had them prepped, unfortunately it was a general loadout and not one specialized for Bakuda. In fact, I was terribly unprepared for this situation on almost every level. I was at a point of every second counting as I scrambled for what little equipment I had available. My scanner was pocketed, I had my micromanipulators and built in omni-tool, but precious little else was field-ready. I started the transfer of a truncated copy of Survey to my Omni-tool and an update of Fleet's motoroid software. The omni-tool was already designed to support virtual intelligences, so there would be no difficulty given the current level of Survey's development. With that set I quickly dug into the rest of the equipment that came with my combat engineer power.

"Our situation is fucked." She replied bitterly. "Bitch was taken out before we got here and they split us up. I think Khepri's still holding out but I'm pretty sure she got Grue and Regent. I don't know how long we can manage. They're basically toying with us right now."

I grabbed my heavy pistol and started rummaging through the rest of the equipment. The medi gel was irrelevant next to the rest of my healing powers, plus it was technically a product of biological engineering and I didn't want to be associated with that. I had some grenades, but they were less powerful than my alchemy and without using my armor I didn't have a convenient way of managing them or the spare time to deal with that problem. In a pile of weapon parts and mods where something caught my eye. It wasn't designed for use with a pistol, but I could make it work, even in the field. With the upgrades I could manage it would bring enough force to bear in case things went to hell.

I'd gotten what I could and couldn't spare any more time. I just needed to get on the road.

"I've thrown them off, so I should be safe for the moment, but I have no idea how long that will..."

There was the sound of an explosion followed by the crumbling of collapsing masonry. Tattletale's voice went quiet. Probably from moving the phone away from her head. There was a faint reply to her with a robotic tinge to it. The Vehicles constellation passed by without a connection as there was a thump and the sound of the phone hitting the ground.

I locked away the last of my gear and sealed the workshop door. There was just enough time for the A.I.s to finish transferring and updating before the link to the computational core was severed. With a quick command my bike shifted from its street mode to the monstrosity of armor and aerodynamics that signified my cape vehicle.

"And who is this?" The voice that came from the phone was a robotic monotone, but clearly a processed human voice rather than a synthesizer. My passenger's reaction confirmed who it belonged to.

"Bakuda, I presume?" I mounted my bike and keyed in the location with Survey while shifting full control to Fleet. I needed to focus on this call. I was probably the worst person to try to play social dynamics against a supervillain, and that was on my best day. After a draining therapy session this was the last thing I was ready for. Still, any time she spent talking to me was time she wasn't spending hunting the Undersiders. "I understand you've been giving my clients a hard time."

My bike tore out of the parking lot, though with the engine running as quietly as possible. With the Magitek drive most of the engine noise was simulated to avoid attracting attention when opperating in civilian mode. In times like this the bike counted as a ninja motorcycle in more ways than one.

"Ah," The robotic voice replied. "So the mouthy girl decided to call her little friend. What, did she want you to ride to the rescue?"

Yes, that was literally what I was doing. Well, that and stalling Bakuda and trying to manage last minute alterations to my gear. My motoroid was completely unarmed, a condition I was doing my best to rectify. Normally attempting something like that would have been a joke while the bike was working itself to top speed while swerving around the traffic and stopped cars of a city in the grips of a blackout. Luckily I had my Black Thumb power which allowed me to work on vehicles while they were operating. Insane? Most definitely, but that didn't change the fact that I could manage it as well as if the bike was sitting in the center of my workbench.

"There were requests of that nature. I don't suppose I could convince you to let them off with a maiming? Good customers are so hard to find."

An electronic laugh echoed through the phone. "No, I'm afraid we're taking this all the way." There was a pause as someone spoke from too far away for the phone to pick up. "Fuck you, bitch." Another pause. "I AM a genius." More response that I couldn't hear. "You think so? You FUCKING THINK SO?"

Tattletale, what the hell are you doing? I was splitting my focus three ways while also dealing with serious emotional aftermath and even I could tell this was a terrible idea. And as someone with an omni-tool up to the elbow in and active engine while making micro adjustments with the other hand and trying not to fall off a swerving high-speed motorcycle my threshold for a terrible idea really meant something.

"Bakuda?" I tried to get the bomb tinker back on the phone as I made alterations to the front shocks of the motoroid.

There was no response as I heard her rant in a metallic voice. Phrases like "Twelve steps ahead", "Certified Genius", "Greatest Tinker", and "True Fear" were only audible because of the volume at which the bomb tinker must have been screaming them. Tattletale sure had a talent for making people murderously angry. Hell, I was her ally and every time we interacted I'd ended up wanting to throttle her at least once.

Well, the exchange lasted longer than I thought it would, certainly longer than I would have been able to keep her on the line. I was speeding past the end of the boardwalk before things finally came to a head.

Let me just say, having an A.I. navigate through packed Saturday night traffic at maximum possible speed while you also are trying to rush a last minute upgrade onto a still running machine that you are currently riding is a fundamentally terrifying experience. The fact that it was only a prelude to rushing into a heavily trapped murder arena being run by a infuriated bomb tinker really showed the direction my night was headed.

With one final exchange of snark with mad rantings there was a sound like an old house settling if it had been pumped through a stadium sound system. It was accompanied by a scream that was legitimately bloodcurdling, followed by shallow, raspy breathing.

The robotic voice came over the line once more. "Looks like you'll have to find some new clients. I don't think this one is going to be up for cape work for a long... EVER. Tough shit for you." The phone cut off, leaving my bike weaving through darkened streets towards the train yard.

I took a breath as I tried to process things. There was absolutely nothing I could do. My bike was already moving as fast as possible, certainly faster than I would be able to manage if I was driving. In this area speed wasn't the limiting factor, maneuverability was. The A.I. had to take brutal corners and swerve around the scattered traffic. The roads were less packed than near the boardwalk but I didn't have a straight shot across the city any more. I trusted my A.I.s to manage the route and driving and distracted myself with my pistol.

She wasn't dead. Not yet, at least. Judging by the breathing and Bakuda's taunt she probably just did something unspeakably horrible to her. That was okay. Well, it wasn't okay, but it's not dead. I can't fix dead. Anything else I can probably manage. I tried to stop thinking about it as I shifted to firearm modification at over a hundred miles per hour.

The mod was easy enough to adapt with my current skills, and I could even manage some upgrades. As it was part of my personal equipment I was able to work blindingly fast. The end result was brutal overkill, but I had a feeling I would need a significant display of strength if I was going to get through this.

Survey sent an alert to my omni-tool. I had a message. A message from Survey. To Survey. It took me longer than it should have to figure out what was happening.

I activated the video link and an image of Garment appeared on my display. It was taken from the webcam of her laptop and showed her in the darkened apartment lit only by the computer screen. She made a concerned gesture.

"I'm fine. Garment, I have to go help some people."

She made a gesture at herself, then to me. Well, to the screen of the laptop, which my omni-tool confirmed had my image on it.

"There's no time. My..." I struggled to find the right word to use. Friends? Clients? Acquaintances? Obligations? "Some people I know are going to get hurt, may already be hurt. If I don't get to them immediately they might not make it."

She made a distressed gesture, and frankly I agreed with her. I would have been nervous enough going into this situation with every resource at my disposal. This wasn't the kind of battle you wanted to face halfcocked. Still, you fight with the army you have, not the army you want. The timing for this was just about as bad as it could possibly have been.

Actually, was that the work of their new cape, or was that overly paranoid? I mean, assuming Tattletale was right that meant they had unknown thinker support, which could be a God damn nightmare. And I was rushing right into it.

"Garment, I'll be alright." I didn't have full confidence in my words, but I pressed on. "You stay safe. I'll be back as soon as I can."

We were approaching the storage facility. With how time critical things were I couldn't afford to scout the place out and go in quiet. I needed to enter heavy and make the biggest impact I could. Survey helpfully offered some suggestions based on the layout from satellite imagery. I input some data based on parameters that were requested by the program, mainly outlines of my capabilities and the needs of the situation. Survey updated the proposal in response.

Well, it was certainly dynamic. I transferred it to Fleet and readied my reagents.

The storage facility was impossible to miss. With the rest of the city in pitch darkness it was brightly lit by what looked like a series of flares somehow suspended in the air above the site. They cast the entire area in an unnatural white glow. There was a low cinderblock wall around the facility and some cars parked by the main entrance with a few members of the ABB milling around them. The occasional rumble could be heard from inside the facility.

The main entrance was guarded and possibly trapped. Fortunately I had another option. My bike sped towards the outer wall as I checked my omni-tool's sensors to make sure there were no hidden surprises on my chosen route. With the all clear I readied a combination of two drams of ethanol with a measure of ash. This was the first time I had mixed dark alchemy. The back of a speeding bike wasn't the best place for something like that, but the stability of my micromanipulator gloves made the action trivial.

The mixture glowed as I threw it down, but with a somehow harsher light than what was produced by my restorative formulas. The flickering mass flew towards the wall and shone brightly. Then the wall exploded.

I was ready for the blast and debris. My bike's hyper alloy paneling could handle much worse than the light pelting of concrete fragments and my own durability was so excessive that my only serious concern in this fight would be Bakuda's more exotic offerings. Unfortunately I think she leaned heavily towards exotic offerings for most of her work.

I had been partially guided by my sense of the location of my knives. It confirmed all of them were present in the facility, but getting closer I could feel a cluster of the knives I had made for Alec, Brian, and Rachel along with the scepter near the center of the facility. The stiletto was in another part of the site and the baton and knife I made for Taylor were further into the rows of units. I had focused on the cluster on the hope of finding the Undersiders, whether captured or injured.

As the wall exploded my bike roared through the blast before turning into a sideways slide and coming to a perfect stop. I turned towards the cluster of equipment I had sensed and found myself facing a woman in a gas mask flanked by two tough looking men in ABB colors all standing on a set of shipping crates. Around us was a much larger crowd of conscripted henchmen who were not nearly as adept at concealing their shock.

I took in the aftermath of my entrance. The wall was a mess of settling rubble with a few unfortunate conscripts groaning on the ground around it. They were barely visible through the massive cloud of concrete dust around the breach. A sort of contrail had been drawn from the cloud by my passing and wisps and curls of dust flowed off my costume. From the arrangement I'm guessing Bakuda had been mid rant/speech when the blast went off. On top of one of the storage units I could see the figures of Uber and Leet staring down at the commotion.

Well, after an entrance like that I wasn't about to let someone else seize the initiative. I raised a gloved hand and pointed towards Bakuda, and specifically the knives she and her henchmen were holding. Concrete dust swirled through the air as I moved and I let it settle before calling out across the courtyard.

"Those don't belong to you."

The two ABB members looked down at the knives in their hands. The left one was holding my karambit and the right one my parrying dagger. Both were sheathed, as was the bowie knife at Bakuda's hip. The bomb tinker tried to regain her footing, but was clearly put off.

"So that bitch's rescue squad finally showed up." She over gestured during her speech, possibly to make up for the monotone of her voice. I was recognizing the limits of communication that were imposed by full face masks. They were great for concealing identity but horrible for conveying nuance. With her synthesizer stripping the tone from her voice Bakuda seemingly had to emote like a bad actor to get her point across.

I had considered how to handle this. Given my current reputation, coming in with a speech about justice and rescue of innocents was bound to fall flat, especially considering who I was here to rescue. In fact, any indication that I was approaching this from the perspective of a hero would probably just have her jump straight to grenades. Instead I decided to play up the reputation I had earned and go as mercenary as possible.

"I have a contract with the Undersiders. I intend to honor it." I didn't have Bakuda's built in amplification but the new material of my cowl didn't muffle my voice like the bandana had. Plus the courtyard was still in stunned silence.

"Big talk." She made an overdramatic gesture as the Celestial Forge missed a connection to the time constellation. "Too bad you'll never live up to it." She waved a hand across the stunned masses. "Look around. This is what power looks like. Did Tattletale tell you about this? Did she make you think you had a chance? That girl's signed your death warrant. Called you in with your tricks and trinkets?" She pulled out my bowie knife and flashed it to the crowd. "Kid's stuff. What do you have that can stand up to the might of the ABB?"

Some of the braver members of the group were beginning to look emboldened. There were few firearms among the conscripts, but everyone had some kind of armament. Grips were beginning to be adjusted on weapons and the more aggressive members of the group were starting to shift forward. I knew I could handle anything but a mass charge, but without some counter display I could be likely to face just that. I needed to make a point before anyone got it in their head to try their luck.

I triggered the motoroid's transformation. The vehicle folded up around me in a smooth transition between motorcycle and power armor, though still with that five part electronic grinding sound that was oddly familiar despite just being a discharge from the servo-capacitors. A boom echoed around the courtyard as I brought down a foot with a combined seven hundred pounds of weight, cracking the concrete underneath it. The members of the group that had been edging forward were now slinking back from the eight feet of hyper alloy power armor. I seemed to have successfully reaffirmed my intimidation.

Well, except for Uber and Leet who for some reason were gesturing excitedly at each other and rapidly whispering back and forth, but those guys were nuts. They were probably more excited about fighting a robot suit than they were concerned about getting hurt in the conflict. To be honest as long as I was holding myself back I doubted they would pick up worse injuries from a confrontation with me than they typically endured during one of their usual broadcasts.

I activated a speaker added during the last upgrade and my voice boomed across the courtyard, dwarfing Bakuda's electronic cadence.

"I think the question you should be asking is, what do you have that can stand up to me?" This was a pissing match, but I was dragging it out intentionally. From the looks of things they had been bombarding the section of the storage area where I could detect the baton and knife I made for Taylor. That had clearly stopped, and likely would until the showboating had finished. I could feel the items moving through the area. The longer I drew this out the better the chance that Taylor would be able to rally.

"Right," She scoffed in what might have been a dismissive manner without the voice synthesizer turning everything into a monotone. She was clearly trying to remain aloof, but she suddenly seemed defensive as she looked at my armor. "And who the hell are you?"

I was kind of amazed she had given me such a perfect setup. I swung out one of my armor's new weapons and pointed it at her. "My name is Apeiron, and I'm here for the Undersiders."

Once again she was on the back foot. Bakuda had been showboating, and I had stolen her thunder. I knew she could go straight to bombs at any time, but I had the sense she wanted more out of this than a clean victory. They wouldn't have gone through the trouble of all of this nonsense if the only point was to eliminate the Undersiders. This was either personal or some kind of reputation thing. If she was going for a political victory then dropping me with a grenade might pull it off, but if she missed she'd lose more face then she could afford.

That was still something I was very concerned about. I hadn't had time to integrate any ranged weapons into my motoroid. Even if I had I wasn't at the point of trusting my A.I.s to be able to handle point defense against grenades or missiles. In the event that she opened fire my plan was to engage my turbines at maximum power and blindly launch myself out of here. I could figure out my next step when I was safely beyond bombardment range.

My omni-tool had a fairly advanced scanning system and right now Survey was leveraging the technology for all it was worth. It was plotting out life signs, geographical data, and energy signatures, which provided disturbing news on all fronts. There were close to a hundred conscripts here, eighty seven detected and likely more behind the storage units. Looking at the crowd I could plainly see the civilians that had been forced into service. They hadn't even changed their clothes. It was like they grabbed people out of their jobs or off the street and shoved a bat into their hands. I spotted people in office wear, coveralls, high visibility vests, and even school uniforms for some of the younger members. The younger members skewed very young, like middle school age if not less.

This whole situation was horrible, but something like that was just a new level of vile.

A scan of the facility showed that the layout of those units didn't match the satellite records. Clearly a lot of bombs had gone off here. My additional entryway wasn't the only spur-of-the-moment renovation that had been done. Entire sections of the facility had been torn apart during this encounter. What's more some of the exotic effects were still active. A large crystal formation was clustered near the north east corner, at least three units were still burning, and there was a spherical region that looked normal but my scanners couldn't penetrate.

The reason for this was clear from a simple sweep for energy sources. In addition to the clear blip from everyone present, even the people who looked like career ABB, I was getting dozens of readings from the facility. This place had been absolutely peppered with explosives, and they were too complex for me to tell what kind of bomb they were before they went off. With my defenses the bombs would either be completely meaningless or utterly devastating with very little middle ground. I needed to do whatever I could to avoid a fight here.

Fortunately there was the possibility I might be able to do just that. Before Bakuda could respond I lowered my arm and swung the weapon back into place, the entire crowd following the movement.

"Give me the Undersiders and we're done here. You can keep the 'trinkets' for all I care, but I'm fulfilling my contract."

That 'keep the trinkets' thing was the only reason I was considering this. I couldn't let Bakuda go free, but if she actually took the knives I'd be able to trace her anywhere she went. Perfectly undetectable, unblockable tracking. I could swoop in properly prepared and take out her, her lab, and any cronies all in one strike.

I just prayed I had managed to keep the hope out of my voice when I made that offer.

Bakuda actually seemed to be considering it. "I can respect a mercenary attitude." She looked up towards Uber and Leet who, to her disgust, were still geeking out over my suit for some reason. "That is, a PROFESSIONAL mercenary attitude. Tell you what, after sorting out that mouthy girl I'm feeling a bit generous. You can have what's left of the rest of them, but I'm keeping the bug girl." She flicked the knife. "Lung has business with her. Let's say she's a welcome home present."

God damn it. So close. I wasn't willing to give up Taylor. If I let her go I might be able to save her, heal whatever they had planned, and bring Bakuda to justice, but savior of the world or not there was no way I was delivering a teenage girl into who knows what tortures.

I also wasn't too comfortable with that 'what's left of them' comment. I just hoped they weren't dead. I mean, I was betting against it. Bakuda seemed to like a captive audience, and probably in the literal sense of the word. I couldn't see her killing them if only because it would ruin the flow of her ranting.

"I can't accept that. Khepri is part of the contract, nonnegotiable." I shifted my stance to be slightly more aggressive but kept my weapons undeployed.

"No fucking way." The bomb tinker's behavior was dismissive and cautious, but not overly aggressive yet. A good sign, but I had no idea how long it would last. "That bitch is ABB enemy number one. Only way you're taking her out of here will be in three different body bags."

God damn it Taylor, what the hell did you do? Judging from past behavior I'd be tempted to make a joke about severed body parts, but this was serious.

So how the hell did I play this? Coming to an agreement was a lost cause. I could see that plainly. I wasn't going to talk her around, plus there was nothing I'd be willing to offer. I was right back to dragging this out and hoping Taylor could use the time to get her shit together. And also hope that the rest of the Undersiders weren't slowly bleeding out.

So, the goal had shifted from objective based conversation to keeping her talking until something can be accomplished. Fortunately her underlings seem too terrified to attempt anything while she was center stage. So I just had to keep her wound up enough that she kept talking, but not hit the point where the bombs start flying. Her grenade launcher was currently slung on her back rather than in her hand and I was fairly confident I could launch out of here in the time it took her to reach for it.

Safely launching out of here is another matter, but both me and the motoroid were fairly durable. Frankly I'd take my chances with a terminal velocity impact over some of the bullshit that got unleashed on Cornell.

And that's another alchemy power from the Celestial Forge. Natural Alchemy, like potion making, but science based, not magical. Well, natural energy based. Still useful, and the science aspect will help with other endeavors. Not really relevant to the current situation and I needed to say something before I lost the initiative.

"You think you can back up that claim?" The statement may have been overly aggressive, but if this was going to end in blood I was at least going to pick the route we took to get there. I put as much derision into the tone as I could and Bakuda stepped back like she'd been struck. Her hand twitched towards her grenade launcher, then stopped and looked around. I was a bit concerned she'd jump straight to violence, but it seemed she still wanted to play to the crowd.

"That's fucking rich coming from you. Some nobody shows up and thinks they can dictate terms to me? You think that janky robot suit is worth anything? Every baby tinker shits out some crap like that day one."

It was interesting that she jumped straight to the topic of tinkering. Judging by how Tattletale had set her off and the fact that she had also triggered due to something relating to college it was easy to guess where she was coming from.

I remembered people like her from when I was in school. No room for failure because their entire self-image was tied up in being the best. That mentality barely worked in high school. Take a half dozen people who all needed to be number one and put them in the same class and things get messy real fast. Was that what happened with her? I was getting something to that extent from my passenger, but it wasn't clear.

Those people were also the most insufferable ones to work with. Even if they actually had the skills to back up their claims their 'confidence' in their abilities was always paper thin. Just a hint that you might be ahead of them in any area was like an act of war. In the worst cases even the perception that someone could be better than them was inexcusable and had to be corrected.

What was clear was the idea of someone outshining her bothered her badly, and that was something I could use. Survey had transferred a sensor reading to me, faint but still promising. It looked like scattered groups of insects were making their way towards the storage facility. They were only visible because of how tightly packed the swarms were, but Taylor was clearly still in this fight. I just needed to buy her some time.

I shifted my stance slightly and the crowd reacted. Bakuda wasn't wrong about every tinker making power armor. Power armor was technically possible even with mundane mechanical skills. Almost every tinker had enough crafting ability to get a suit together. The thing was the vast majority of them were absolute crap. They had a limited range of motion, moved like tanks, were prone to falling over, and tended to look like they'd been made out of broken refrigerators. That was probably because they usually were made out of broken refrigerators.

My suit did not fit that description. This was the end product of over a dozen mechanical powers with Garment approved aesthetics applied to it. It moved more smoothly than most people were capable of and had power and strength to back up its speed. Just the subtle shifting of weight was able to communicate how agile it was. Bakuda may have been trying to downplay it, but it was clearly of a class well beyond 'janky'.

I made a series of subtle movements over the full range of the suits movements. "I don't know, I think it holds up." Sarcasm and derision. I had the feeling Bakuda wanted a direct challenge that she'd be free to swat down. She was the one playing games with reputation and power balance. I guess I was as well, but I wasn't trying to establish myself as a crime lord. The social stakes were higher for her, so odds were she'd keep posturing.

As I hoped she kept on talking rather than launch an attack. "Can't be hot shit if these losers were able to buy you off."

Right, I guess that was a bit of a quandary that didn't exactly line up. Even Tattletales analysis probably wasn't worth a rescue with this kind of equipment. I tried to play it off. "I'm satisfied with our arrangement."

Bakuda made an overly dismissive gesture. "Yeah, right. What are you working for, trading cards and lunch money?"

I shifted my stance again. "Not every business relationship is based on finances."

Plenty of capes worked on mutual support. Thinkers and tinkers propped up other teams all the time. From Bakuda's reactions she seemed to get it.

"So that's it then." There was something to her posture I couldn't quite place.

"Pretty much." I shifted my armor again and gestured to her. "Offer still stands. Give me Khepri and the rest of them and we're done here."

My answer seemed to offend her somehow. "And here I thought I found a decent merc. Didn't expect you to get so personal."

Was that what this was about? Too invested in the people I worked with? Well, if her main experience is with Uber and Leet I could understand the appeal of keeping a professional distance. "In this business everything is personal."

"So you think that's worth the trouble?" Once again there was something in her posture I felt I wasn't picking up on.

"It is to me." I tried to be glib in my response, but it didn't seem to land well.

There was an electronic scoff from her mask. "That bitch got you making her the best toys, and now riding to her rescue as well?"

The conversation was definitely getting away from me. There were parts of this I wasn't following and now was definitely not the time to be on shaky footing.

"I don't expect you to understand." Mostly I said that because I didn't understand where this conversation was going. I checked in with Survey again. Thick cinderblocks weren't the best medium for scanning through, much less accounting for the after effects of the bombs and the random crap in the storage units. I couldn't get a clear picture of what was happening deeper in the facility, but I hoped Taylor was getting her shit together because from how Bakuda was reacting, things weren't going to stay civil much longer.

"Don't you fucking tell me what I can't understand. You think this high school shit means anything to me? I'm a fucking genius!"

In my experience there are few things more concerning that someone who presents themselves as a genius. I mean, I had multiple powers that boosted my intelligence and I wouldn't be comfortable yelling that to the world. What kind of person could just profess their genius without shame?

I could recognize aspects of her personality from my college days, but I had the feeling we were coming at this from completely opposite sides. Someone who was inordinately built up rather than torn down. It was weird even considering the idea that a person could have been so excessively extolled that they could seriously hold this kind of image of themselves. No wonder she had crashed so hard.

Maybe it was because I was coming into this straight from therapy, maybe it was the frustrations I had been dealing with before she decided to throw the city into hell, but I just wasn't feeling that tolerant at the moment. If I was going to taunt the bomb tinker I was going to hit her where it hurt.

"So what?"

My dismissive tone seemed to drag her out of her rant.

"Ex-fucking-cuse me?"

"So you're a genius. Like that means anything? There are what, thirty million people in the world with that IQ bracket? Do you seriously think it's really a point of distinction?"

She actually didn't open fire on me, but it seemed like that was only because she was too angry to consider the possibility.

"It doesn't matter what you fucking think. I'm the greatest tinker alive." She gestured at the devastation around her. "Look at this." She specifically pointed at the towering mass of crystal. "Can your pea brain even comprehend what I've done here?"

I seriously looked at the effect of the bomb. "Looks like some kind of silicon seed structure designed for molecular propagation with the integration of surrounding solids. From the discoloration I'm guessing you either pulled in a few of your own people when you set it off, or someone was using one of these lockers to store something particularly wet and meaty."

Bakuda would probably have reacted less if I had clocked her in the mouth. I enjoyed putting her off balance, but that was something I had real cause to be concerned about. I had no defense against that kind of bomb and if the crystal progression hadn't experienced pattern collapse it would have turned into the kind of thing that got an S-class response.

"That... That's right!" She struggled to regain her momentum. "Total molecular control. And I cooked it up on a whim, just to see what would happen." Seemingly back on pace she planted her feet and gestured to the crowd. "Power and fear! That's what this is about. While you've been chasing after your bug bitch I've taken this city! True control. These people will do whatever I tell them, whenever I tell them, all because they fear me!"

This was getting dangerously close to either an ordered attack or some kind of bombing demonstration. I needed to know how she could trigger the cranial and planted bombs. Until then I couldn't even risk trying to capture her. That said, I wasn't about to let some poor kid get detonated just to provide a data point. Fortunately Bakuda was almost embarrassingly easy to side track.

"Cranial bombs, right?"

She glared at me, but when it became evident I wasn't going to press further she launched into a speech.

"Exactly. These people know they only live because I allow it. I can kill them with a thought and they only live as long as I do. That's loyalty. That's fear. That's power."

"That's the only thing keeping you safe." My voice was flat as I interrupted her.

The bomb tinker recoiled and glared across the courtyard at me. "What?"

"These people are saving your life. Right now they're the only reason you're still breathing. Actually, everyone here owes their lives to Tattletale. Her tip about your little dead man's switch is the only reason I didn't open this discussion by reducing you to a charred smear."

The scary thing was I knew I would have done it. One look around at the children and old women with bombs in their heads was enough to convince me, not to mention all the other everyday citizens whose only crime was happening to match the ABB's recruitment demographics. What she was doing here was beyond monstrous. It was vile.

I believed in the unwritten rules. I accepted people broke them all the time in a myriad of small ways, but blatant breaches like this were beyond the pale. The only way Bakuda could get out of this mess without a kill order is if somehow the politics of the situation held it up. Everyone would have been thinking that SOMEONE should take her out. I just happened to have the war veteran experience that meant I both could and would have followed through on the idea. That terrified me, but not as much as it seemed like it should have.

And that's another quarter for the jar.

She glanced around in agitation. "Big fucking talk. What the hell do you think you could do against the ABB?"

We were entering the end game here. There weren't many places I could go that would escalate things past death threats. It was time to play the last of my cards. I leaned forward slightly as I spoke. "Maybe you should ask Oni Lee." There were questioning glances from the crowd. "By the way, how's his arm doing? Was that a clean break? He didn't stick around long enough for me to find out."

Murmurs were starting to circulate through the crowd to Bakuda's clear annoyance. One of the henchmen leaned in towards her and whispered something, but she brushed him off.

"No." She seemed to be trying to whisper, but the metallic voice of the synthesizer was clear across the courtyard.

He tried again and she glared at him. "We don't need her help on this. I've got it under control."

The gang member nearly backed down, but steeled himself. He started speaking up, so I could just make out his response with my suit's sensors. "He's the guy that took on the demon. We're supposed to call it in if he showed up. At this point all the timing we've been given is already shot. What difference does it make?"

"She can play conductor as much as she wants but she's not in charge. I don't need to check in with her. I don't answer to anyone!" As Bakuda turned increasingly manic the gang member fell back reverently. I noticed everyone seems to be edging as far as they could from him. "This is my plan, my genius! I don't take orders from some eleventh hour recruit!"

Seemingly mollified Bakuda turned back to me. "So you got a lucky hit in and thought you could handle the whole organization? Well tough shit, that overconfidence is going to get you killed." The fact that Bakuda was the one talking about overconfidence struck me as a breathtaking lack of self-awareness.

While she was posturing a moth suddenly landed on the visor of my suit. I managed to avoid reacting, but based on the twitched of the insect I noticed a faint trail of bugs hanging in the air leading towards the eastern rows of storage lockers. A quick check confirmed that the knife and baton were in that direction.

Thank God, Taylor was finally ready. I had no idea if she had anything prepared, but if she was setting this up then at least she wasn't pinned down or incapacitated.

"I'll give you one chance to stand down." Her stance was aggressive and she shifted her position to the edge of the shipping crate. "Admit you're out of your league, step off, and just maybe I won't use you to test out some new ideas and let Oni Lee play with whatever's left."

There were a few ways I had considered opening things, but if she was going to give me this kind of opportunity I might as well take it.

"I guess I have no choice." I opened the paneling of my armor and stepped out onto the courtyard, noting a failed connection from the knowledge constellation as I went. Bakuda relaxed as I exited the motoroid and she made some dismissive gestures to the ganger who had spoken up. Behind me the motoroid's plating sealed itself again.

The focus of the crowd shifted to me as I strode forward and flung back the coat of my costume. Doing so revealed my now intricately designed and highly modified heavy pistol. Runework and alterations performed on the back of a speeding bike were a challenge, but I was still happy with the result.

It was brutal overkill, but I doubted anything else would really do in this situation.

"I'm glad at least one of you small brained plebeians has the sense to stand down when you're out matched."

Here it was, the final bout of showmanship before the shit completely hit the fan. I squared my shoulders and called across the courtyard. "I'm not standing down."

Bakuda tensed and the crowd went dead silent. "What?"

"I just needed a second pair of hands." With a signal the motoroid strode next to me. The crowd watched open mouthed as the armor moved smoothly without an occupant. It fell into place at my side and with a flourish deployed both weapons.

There was a limit to what I was capable of building on the ride over, though much less of one than there logically should have been. With my powers and abilities the handful of minutes I spent working on the bike while it was peeling through the city was the equivalent of days of dedicated construction in a fully equipped workshop. Between the depth of my mechanical knowledge, the precision of my micromanipulators, and the instant fabrication of my omni-tool I was able to complete a pair of advanced melee weapons in blinding speed.

I still wanted to reduce the chance of fatalities, which is why I went with blunt weapons. The motoroid essentially had a pair of tonfas or nightsticks built into its forearms. They had been repurposed from the bike's structure and a simple fabricated servo bracket allowed free rotation around the wrist. That could potentially allow the motoroid to use martial arts techniques based on the weapon, but right now it mainly allowed dramatic deployments. When both tonfas swung into place a metallic crack echoed around the courtyard and more than a few of the conscripts took an involuntary step back.

A pair of blunt instruments wouldn't have been a deciding factor in a fight like this, nor would they have gotten the response I needed. Luckily I had just received the ability to easily turn anything into a high-frequency weapon. A rapidly fabricated resonant capacitor calibrated to the specific inductance of the tonfa was all it took. Blunt HF weapons didn't have the insane cutting power of HF blades, but they were incredibly durable, both in terms of strength and the ability to resist molecular alteration.

They also crackled with faint partial discharges of the alternating current, which judging by the reactions of the crowd, looked intimidating as hell.

But once again, glowing beat sticks weren't going to be the kind of display I needed to win the day. That's where my runecraft came in. The strength of the runes was highly variable, but could be increased based on the nature of the weapon, the method of inscription, and the detail of the rune work.

Larger weapons could handle more power than smaller ones. A dagger or a collapsible baton could only support fairly weak effects. A solid bar of metal that needed robot strength to wield had a significantly higher threshold.

Inscription method also mattered. Printed runes would only have a sliver of the power of those inscribed by hand. The power could be further boosted by arcane methods and rituals in the inscription process, but the important thing was that the work was done personally by my hand.

Detail was also a big factor. I hadn't learned how significant it was until I decided to dive into inscriptions after gaining my Decadence power. That seemingly meaningless design power had boosted the quality of my rune work to the point where what was planned as an incidental boost became enough to propel Taylor into villainous infamy. I had gotten two more style powers since then along with a set of gloves that let me work at a borderline impossible level of detail.

Both tonfas were fully inscribed and may have been the most powerful weapons I'd ever made. Well, that was a title they could have held until I started work on my pistol.

At the sound of the tonfas deploying I dropped a hand to the grip of my pistol and activated the interface of my omni-tool. Tension rippled through the crowd as my left forearm was sheathed in orange holographic mass fields.

Bakuda glared at me while trying to make it look like she wasn't edging for her grenade launcher. "Big deal. You've seen what I can do. Are you really stupid enough to think you have a chance?"

I glanced down at my omni-tool. The interface was much easier to use now that I was out of that armor. I had faintly hoped that I would be able to crack that dead man's signal and end this madness. Unfortunately that seemed to be something so near and dear to her specialization to the point that even with Survey's help I could barely make sense of it. Between the levels of encryption, the semi random frequency changes, and what I'm sure must have been some exotic effects I wasn't getting an easy way out of this mess. Which left the hard way.

"I don't know if I do…"

I activated a very familiar command that I had actually never used before. With a flash of mass fields and instant fabrication a combat drone deployed into the air next to me. However, two things were different about this deployment.

The first difference from my combat experience was that I now had a burgeoning A.I. in my omni-tool. With it able to direct my drone suddenly it was capable of more complicated commands than just 'fuck that guy and anyone close to him'. Survey would be able to direct the drone for reconnaissance, distraction, and even interception of attacks.

The second difference was something I didn't think would make as much of an impact as it had. Fun fact, I actually couldn't turn off any of my powers. There was no way I could make something without all of my applicable crafting abilities coming into play. So every set of clothes I made would fit perfectly, every item would be nigh-impervious to the effects of time and, thanks to Beauty in the Arts, everything I made would look good on a level that bordered on the divine. It seemed it didn't matter if it was made by hand or automatic fabrication program, the effect still applied.

A combat drone is normally a series of partial spheres of cheaply fabricated material around a ball of charged plasma and a temporarily projected mass field. It doesn't exactly look bad, just fairly utilitarian. It certainly isn't supposed to have subtle contours, embossed designs along the surface, and a silhouette that evoked the idea of a celestial being. The glowing drone floated next to me like a divine messenger to the absolute shock of those assembled.

I squared off between my eight foot armored motoroid and my elegantly designed combat drone and stared down the bomb tinker.

"...but we might."

Whatever spell cast by the drone's appearance was broken when Bakuda screamed and raised her grenade launcher. I had been ready for this. The pistol was in my hand and tracked on the target before the grenade began its arc across the courtyard. The reason that Taylor had been able to dismember Aegis so easily was the speed granted by the wind runes on her knife. They were significantly less advanced than the ones I had engraved onto my pistol. The faster draw speed, lack of air resistance, and projected shockwaves were boons when using the pistol even if they were all secondary to its true purpose.

Drawing on my new lifetime of experience I settled into a firing stance and drew a perfect bead on the grenade. As I squeezed the trigger a sliver of metal the size of a grain of sand was sheared from the ammo block and subjected to mass effects and electromagnetic acceleration that launched it with the speed and effective inertia of a high caliber rifle round. With the wind runes supporting it the round tore through the air and shattered the grenade at the apex of its arc.

There was a sudden greasy feeling in the air that was immediately followed by a blinding lightshow. The sky above the facility filled with lightning, bolts spreading out like spider webs clawing at the night. Occasional tendrils found their way to the ground, melting the metal roofs of any storage units they touched. When it finally passed a good half of the flares that had lit the sky were flickering out and dropping towards the ground.

It didn't escape my notice that the particular discharge of the bomb would have been devastating to both my drone and motoroid. Also probably to everyone on my side of the courtyard. Bakuda may have been able to make tactical decisions even when maddeningly angry, but those decisions didn't seem to include any concern for friendly fire casualties.

I had started moving long before the discharge had dissipated. Combat instincts from wars I didn't fight drove me forward as I pulled a prepared formula from my bandoleer. Two drams of oil and a lump of wax. It was the mixture for my weakest attack formula, Flash.

Bakuda assumed she was invincible because of her contingency, that no one would risk attacking her. That wasn't exactly true. If you could be sure your attack wouldn't be enough to stop her heart then you were free to go nuts. It was just unacceptably risky with a lot of offensive options. Bullets and blades could catch arteries or something vital you didn't mean to hit. Blunt force could cause a punctured lung or brain damage that would be the end of things. Using electricity against someone with that kind of implant was just insane.

Fire was another matter. If you were using a fire ability that you could precisely control, perhaps thanks to a set of micromanipulator gloves used for the mixing of the formula, and spread the effect thin enough, such as across three idiots who decided to stand on an elevated platform, then you could be certain the effect wouldn't be enough to kill. To hurt, most certainly, but nothing worse than a few second degree burns.

I threw down the balefully glowing mixture and three large orange sparks wheeled out of it. Each was about a foot wide and I could feel the heat radiating from them as they flew away. They soared unerringly towards the shipping crates that had been used for an improvised stage. Bakuda raised her grenade launcher, seemingly at a loss for what to do. One of the gang members looked dumfounded and the approaching blasts while the other was swifter and made a leap to the ground. It did him no good as the spark veered to follow his movement.

The dark alchemy burst over them in a roiling wave of fire. Within a second it was gone, leaving burnt flesh and smoldering clothing. Bakuda's mechanical voice screamed profanities as she hauled herself up and tried to angle the grenade launcher towards me with a shaky grip. I was already moving towards the storage units with my drone, tracking the rough trail of bugs left by Taylor. Bakuda paused at the last second.

"Where's the fucking robot?"

The scream of turbines echoed across the facility and drew everyone's eyes to the sky. There, plummeting out of the night, was the clear form of my motoroid in the process of power bombing the courtyard.

When Taylor had tried out her baton Alec had made a joke about her using it to create a seismic event. That was a ridiculous idea. Impact earth runes were a completely different application from tremor earth runes.

As much as I needed a dramatic display I still wanted to avoid casualties as much as possible. Completely outfitting the HF tonfas with impact runes would have blasted the remains of anyone hit by them over a distance of two to three city blocks, depending on what the wind was doing at the time. With tremor runes they would be knocked down, maybe buried a bit, but largely alright. Well, they would still have been hit by a hyper alloy bar held by a five hundred pound super strong robot, so not exactly alright, but no worse than your typical industrial accident or mid-speed collision.

Tremor runes had another advantage. Against stationary targets with no way to disperse the force their effects could be devastating. The power of the shockwaves were proportional to the strength of the impact. This kind of thing was something I had dismissed long ago since nothing I could build would have held up to the stresses involved. The strike would destroy the weapons and probably my motoroid along with it. Of course, that was before I got a way to specifically strengthen the weapons, and in a manner particularly effective against vibrations.

Oh, and that's a new connection to a mote from the Crafting constellation. Weapon Modification. Now I'll be able to make these things even better when I get a chance.

With a carefully timed leap I latched onto my drone with my omni-tool just before the motoroid impacted an empty section in the center of the courtyard. Drones were not designed for this kind of thing. Survey was stressing its systems to the absolute limit in an attempt to keep me off the ground and even then I had to cheat with my omni-tool's mass field to stay aloft. As a result I was spared the effects and got an excellent view of the results of my plan.

Once again I may have slightly underestimated the effectiveness of my rune craft.

The ground in the center of the courtyard bowed and rippled in a way I had never seen outside of cartoons. Knowing it wasn't a cartoon and the physical reality of the situation I was immensely grateful that I was currently suspended from my drone. The entire mass of conscripts was knocked off their feet and the facility... well I'd be tempted to say it looked like a bomb went off, but considering this place had already seen multiple explosions that probably wasn't the most enlightening descriptor.

This was the real reason I had exited the motoroid. I still didn't know if my reinforcement protected my brain tissue to the same extent that it protected the surface of my body. I had been meaning to experiment with that in controlled conditions. Power bombing the surface of the earth with a seismic weapon was definitely not controlled conditions. From the aftermath I was very glad to not be inside that suit.

Everything was damaged. Some units had completely collapsed, some were crumbling, and some looked like they would fall apart in a stiff breeze. The lucky ones, mostly further away from the impact site were just sporting networks of fresh cracks or the occasional missing brick. Even considering all of that everything still looked better than the state of the ground.

My motoroid slowly rose to its feet in the actual crater it had made. The impact had torn apart the surface of the courtyard and exposed the foundation. Deep cracks and fissures spread out from the crater in a jagged network. The entire facility looked like it had been shattered like a pane of glass. It looked like the fissures extended all the way through the foundation of the site, as a few of the units that were still standing now listed at a concerning angle.

I was shocked by the level of destruction, but my new military instincts were drawing me forward, leaving no time for introspection. I dropped from the drone, drawing my pistol again. This was one last tactical move and display of power.

When combined, my technical skills greatly outstrip any of my individual powers. As such, as an engineer I may have been able to mount an incompatible weapon mod onto a pistol and sort of get it to work. With the weight of my other abilities in addition to the pure cheat that was Hybridization Theory I could take what would have been a loosely functional object and turn it into a work of art. As such not only was I able to mount the omni-blade bayonet onto the pistol, I was able to significantly improve it.

An omni-blade is a flash fabricated superheated silicon-carbide blade capable of being generated by an omni-tool. It can be used in melee combat, though military engineers generally prefer to use incendiary bursts when fighting at that range. Because of its extreme usefulness a scaled down fabricator and mass field was designed to allow for an omni-blade to be used as a weapon mount.

I didn't leave it at that. I had approached this with the knowledge of a master swordsmith, the combined science of an alien civilization, and more enhancements to mechanics than can be properly comprehended. By stressing the mass field and fabricator output I was able to more than double the size of the blade. I optimized the shape and flow perfectly for my ergonomics and fighting style. The blade composition was tweaked based on my knowledge of other monomolecular weaponry and innate understanding of material science. Finally, and most significantly, I integrated a resonant capacitor into the weapon.

As I moved forward I activated my pistol's melee weapon. A thirty four inch glowing orange blade crackling with HF discharges sprang forth. The strength of an HF blade scales with the quality of the original weapon. My customized omni-blade was a very, very good weapon.

A trio of jeeps were parked near the side of the courtyard. They were small enough to fit between the rows of lockers and my guess was they'd been used to run down the Undersiders during this sick game. With the courtyard shattered they wouldn't be getting any other vehicles in here, but these had a high enough ground clearance that they could still navigate the less damaged parts of the site.

I wasn't going to let that happen.

I overloaded the HF current as I neared the vehicles. While slowly walking forward I swung the blade once, twice, three times. The wind runes turned each slice of the weapon into a blazingly quick movement, leaving only an arc of baleful orange light. Despite being well out of the reach of the blade the jeeps split in half. Then they split again. Then those pieces got further subdivided. Crackling slices extended into the walls and ground around the wrecks, some of them frighteningly deep.

I looked over the courtyard. The conscripts were pulling themselves slowly to their feet, the frantic shouts of the professional gang members doing little to help things along. Some of the ones closer to the impact were sporting light injuries, but my sensors didn't pick up anything fatal or life threatening. My motoroid had specifically targeted the point furthest from the crowds. Maximum shock with minimum injury.

Bakuda was still smoldering from my alchemy formula and swearing loudly in her robotic voice. One of her lackeys was fighting through the pain of his own burns to dig her grenade launcher out of a partially collapsed wall while the other helped the bomb tinker to her feet.

The crowd's attention seemed split between us. Half were looking to Bakuda for direction and the other half were looking to me with no small amount of fear. More than a few were following every movement of my blade with filching apprehension. Bakuda finally pulled herself together enough to make another attempt at grandstanding, though this time from the top of a pile of rubble.

I wasn't going to let her take back the initiative. Before she could start I pointed my blade into the sky and pulsed the capacitor just enough to cause a halo of sparks to burst from the sword. Most eyes turned to me, but the smarter ones followed the direction I was pointing to the form of my combat drone, floating high above the courtyard.

Coordination with the drone and motoroid was all handled through my omni-tool. The commands were unnecessary and pure showmanship, but at this point showmanship had a necessity of its own.

"Overwatch." As the word echoed across the courtyard the components of the drone started to glow. Small bursts of electricity began to appear around it as it tracked the actions of the people below.

I dropped my blade to point at the form of my motoroid, rising from the crater. The raw fear on the faces of some of the conscripts was chilling, but I pushed forward.

"Engage." With a completely unnecessary nod the motoroid began spinning up its turbines, filling the courtyard with a cloud of concrete dust.

Just before it washed over me I drew a bead on Bakuda with my sword. Then, to the sound of my motoroid launching itself into the fight, I retracted my blade and disappeared into the dust, following the breadcrumb trail of insects leading me to Taylor.

Jumpchain abilities this chapter:

High-Frequency Manufacturer (Metal Gear Rising) 300:
A blade launderer, huh? Anyway, you can now make a HF blade out of anything you want. Depending on the original craftsmanship of the weapon, it could be good or shit. But if you picked this, you probably have something in mind.
Must be a physical object. No lightsabers and the like.
Yes, blunt objects can become HF weapons. No, they can't cut. They only get stronger, and can resist other HF weapons.

Alchemy (Samurai Jack) 200:
The ancient science of mixing specific ingredients and then infusing them with natural energy. You know how to make a wide array of potions with both beneficial and harmful effects.

Weapon Modifications (Archer) 100:
You design and modify weapons with flair, creativity, and skill.
 
18 Regroup
18 Regroup

I disappeared into the dust choked rows of storage lockers ignoring the sound of the chaos behind me. I didn't expect my motoroid to accomplish much, and that was largely the point. Fleet's ability to direct the machine, both in motorcycle and bipedal mode, had improved dramatically but that only marginally extended to combat. The robot form had enough dexterity to handle itself, but there was no real combat programming beyond basic ability to swing the weapon. That was fine since I didn't really intend for it to hit anyone.

None of those conscripts could meaningfully damage my motoroid or my drone, so I just needed to keep them wary enough to stay clear. Bakuda had dozens of bombs that could utterly wreck them, but the motoroid was agile and the drone was disposable. They should be able to avoid or intercept anything coming their way. That would let them tie up the ABB force long enough for me to regroup with the Undersiders and plan my next move.

I picked my way past critically damaged storage lockers over uneven ground with pandemonium behind me and my heart hammering in my chest. My body was swimming in adrenalin and I felt light headed. I really couldn't believe I just did that. During the faceoff I had just focused on the next step, on trying to avoid showing any weakness, but the gravity of the situation was creeping up on me. This was full on life or death conflict, and the first time I had seen anything like it since my fight with Oni Lee. That seemed like ages ago when it was really what, six days? Actually slightly less than that.

Without the mindset of my military engineer power I had no idea how I would have been able to manage this. Even as I felt like panicking, instincts drew me forward, away from hostiles and towards allies and a more defensible position. I took a deep breath and pressed on. I could put another quarter in the jar later. Right now I was just grateful to be able to stay functional, no matter what that meant for the integrity of my mind.

I was following my sense of the equipment I built for Taylor along with her trail of insects when I felt the Celestial Forge. It made a connection to the Time constellation using every ounce of reach I had to spare. It wasn't the largest mots I had connected to, but the ability was so ridiculously overpowered that it nearly made me lose focus on what I was doing. Given the significance of the danger I was in that's really saying something.

The power was called Workaholic and was practically irreverent in how broken it was. In effect it boosted the output of all of my crafting. Either I could produce five times as many items, or what I was building would be roughly three times the size. By three times the size I meant three times in one dimension, so significantly more in total volume and mass. Actually, it worked out to slightly less than three times, since the mass would increase by a factor of twenty five rather than twenty seven. That had a nice symmetry to it. Either five times the finished product or five times five the material output.

The power would have been significant enough if it just let me boost my production speed, but there was another massively impactful element to it. The amount of initial resources required didn't change. I could start with the parts to build one robot and end up with five, or a robot nearly three times as tall. And the power was practically irreverent about the fact that it was making logistical requirements meaningless.

It actually felt like the ability was designed to be exploited. I could build something, break it down to base materials, and then use those materials again. Each time the multiplying effect would be applied. As long as I had what I needed for the initial construction I effectively had infinite resources. If was almost as if the universe had gotten fed up with all of my struggling with logistics and just wanted me to get to crafting.

Not that I'm complaining or anything, it was just a lot more significant than I expected from any mote of its strength. Also, having your entire logistical methodology upended in the middle of a battlefield was a bit difficult to process. Instead I put it out of my mind and pushed forward towards the location of my knife and baton.

Once I had a couple of rows of now damaged lockers between me and the courtyard the amount of dust in the air dropped to manageable levels. The impact on visibility had been drastic even away from the blast site. Within the courtyard I doubted they could see five feet in front of them. A quick check on the link to my motoroid and drone confirmed that was pretty much correct.

I made a note to build some proper visual enhancements into my visor. I had wonderful scanning tech in my omni-tool, but there was a whole range of possibilities for optical augmentation available to me. In fact, there were a lot of upgrades I could apply to my personal loadout, and it wasn't like I was working under a resource crunch any more.

Just a dire time crunch I didn't know about that had led to this rushed and sloppy rescue mission.

I had a sense of the equipment I was tracking, but that was 'as the crow flies' and I was currently working my way through a maze of storage lockers. I could vault to the roof of any one of these without trouble, but that would defeat the entire purpose of causing a distraction and slinking off. Fortunately it seemed Taylor's control of her bugs was at least as good as I had suspected. I wasn't just following a scattered path, she was spelling out directional arrows with insects as I went.

I started to accelerate down the rows of lockers, slowing only to periodically check my omni-tool's readings. The route seemed a bit convoluted, but from the looks of things Taylor was directing me around active bombs and past devices that had already exploded. It provided a wonderful and horrifying tour of what Bakuda was capable of as well as extensive justification for my passenger's concern about her rampage.

I passed lockers that had turned to glass or melted into a puddle of liquid. In one area the path dipped as a perfectly spherical cut had been taken out of it and the surrounding lockers. Exotic effects, like sprays of corrosive green slime, were mixed with the signs of more conventional explosives, though those were still drastically powerful. Conventional was a relative term since I was sure one of the blast showed indications of a fuel-air mixture explosive and another seemed to have deployed a shower of white phosphorous.

It wasn't the scale of the damage that disturbed me, nor was it the exotic effects that I knew I had no defense against. The horrifying element was the collateral damage. Bakuda's inclination to send a tinker tech bomb at me with her own people in the blast radius was clearly not a new occurrence. I saw the signs of at least a half dozen conscripts who had been caught in the effects of her bombs. A portly man partially reduced to a gooey splatter, a pair of scorched shadows on one of the walls with no trace of the people they came from, or the bodies of people who were 'just' subject to normal explosives.

I found myself leaning even more heavily on my passenger and military experience to force myself forward. I had a feeling this would turn my gourd later, but right now I had a job to do.

My meandering route had taken me deeper into the facility, but I was close enough that I could practically feel the slight separation between my knife and baton. With one final turn I found myself mask to mask with the newest supervillain of Brockton Bay.

From the look of things most certainly she had seen better days.

This wasn't the Khepri that had struck a tall, imposing image as she strode out of the bank and dismembered Aegis without a second glance. Taylor was panting for all the air she could pull through her mask. One of her yellow lenses was cracked and her hair was matted with sweat. Her costume was streaked with dust and soot and from the way she was standing she seemed to be favoring her left side. The baton was in her right hand and she held the knife in a reverse grip in her left. Both weapons were shaking slightly from the force of the death grip she had on them.

She may have been the last Undersider standing, but earning that accomplishment had clearly taken a toll.

She barely reacted upon seeing me, instead struggling to catch her breath. I took a moment to check my omni-tool for readings on any nearby bombs or hostiles. Cinderblocks weren't the best medium to scan through, but from what I could see the immediate area was clear. Taylor had finally reacted when I started manipulating the holographic interface that sheathed my left forearm.

"It looks clear." I offered. "From what I can see there aren't any explosives or ABB in the immediate area."

Taylor nodded at my words, but kept panting. "I know. Been tracking. With bugs."

I raised an eyebrow. "You can do that?"

She nodded, still fighting for air. "Can sense them. Not enough for more than that. Been running." She sucked in a deep breath through her mask. "Running non-stop."

It was a grim prospect and I didn't envy her it. I took a look around this part of the improvised arena. Between the traps and the swarms of conscripts it must have been a nightmare. There was damage from exploded bombs and nearby another one of the jeeps had crashed into a storage unit and totaled itself. It seemed to have veered off course, so my guess was either Brian or Alec had disrupted the driver.

For some reason all the seats of the jeep were pink. I hadn't thought anything of it at the time but the seats in the other jeeps had been red, orange, and blue. I groaned internally at the implications. I know this place was a maze, but it was full of conscripted civilians and was being used to hunt teenagers. Who could think it would be good humor to add a Pac-Man reference to that kind of nightmare?

"Uber and Leet?"

Taylor cringed and nodded. "Hired, signed up, something. I don't know. It's not like one of their normal shows. They've got their shit together for this."

It was weird hearing the normally reserved girl swear, but I'm pretty sure this situation warranted a free pass for as much profanity as you could want. I had some choice phrases of my own being held in reserve.

"Seriously? Uber and Leet?" Honestly, I had pretty much dismissed them as a factor. The idea that either of them were being considered a serious threat, particularly for the Undersiders, was a jarring concept.

Taylor had finally caught her breath and relaxed her hold on her weapons from 'death grip' to merely desperate. "They've been pulling out stuff from all the earlier shows. And it's been working."

"Seriously?" I couldn't keep the skepticism out of my voice.

Taylor nodded. "No failures yet, but they keep switching stuff around. They have some kind of new system for how they manage it." She sounded tired and despondent, and the idea that Uber and Leet had been a factor in driving her to that state was concerning.

To be completely honest, few things were more frightening than the idea of Uber and Leet with their shit together. I hadn't even considered them in my concerns when charging into this mess. I'd figured Bakuda wanted to bulk out her numbers for her debut, maybe tap into their normal audience to help build her rep. I didn't thing they would actually be a problem.

I would say I was surprised by them being a party to something like this, but I didn't know them well enough to really make that call. Their broadcasts had been common enough viewing at college that I had picked up some level of familiarity just by osmosis. Their jobs tended to have a mean spirited edge, but it never seemed like it was designed with a malicious purpose, just that they took the joke way too far. More a lack of moderating influence than a desire to do harm. Even then, people who didn't support what they were doing still tended to tune in to see them fall on their faces.

Make no mistake, the technology Leet could bring to bear was incredible. Compilations of their early jobs were still some of the best examples of what a high level tinker could manage. They just spiraled downward fast. Breakdowns, malfunctions, or catastrophic failures became more and more common. Uber started having to carry the team, and even then he could barely stay ahead of the buggy gear.

I'd heard dozens of theories for the drop off in the quality of Leet's work. Some people thought he was working with some exotic resource that he was running out of and trying to stretch across his later inventions. Some said he was getting complacent, letting quality control go and allowing more bugs making it into final products. There were some thoughts that his power might be failing, but people had such a shoddy understanding of how tinkers worked that there were no clear rulings on that.

Even with my expanded understanding I wasn't sure what the reason was. Tinkers with open specializations usually had some obscure limit on how they worked or what they could build. I hadn't looked into the situation enough to even try to figure things out.

Fortunately there was still no sign of anyone else in the area. A quick check on my drone and motoroid confirmed it was still chaos in the courtyard. Bakuda had tried a couple of potshots, but my drone was able to intercept them. At the moment the professional ABB members were scrambling for new equipment while the conscripts were in chaos. We had at least a few minutes.

"Are you okay?"

The look she shot me suggested she had some choice words about that question. Instead she did her best to answer. "Tired." She took a breath. "Heard you from before. Contract?"

I nodded. "Tattletale set up a deal for healing technology. She rather insistently called it in earlier tonight."

The Celestial Forged missed a connection to the Crafting constellation as Taylor responded while half-collapsing against the wall.

"Healing? You can do that?"

"Yeah, I'm guessing she didn't fill you in on the details either."

Taylor shook her head. "She's not great with that." She glanced towards the sounds of chaos from the courtyard. "Uh, this is a little far to go for a healing contract."

I snorted. "If Tattletale thinks I'm not tagging hazard pay to my bill she's got another thing coming." Taylor didn't seem to find the concept that amusing. "Do you need any healing?"

She sagged slightly at the question. It was obvious she did, but this seemed a better way to handle it than the practice of drive by medical care that I established with Panacea. "Yes. I mean, probably? There's been so much I don't even have a good idea of how bad things are."

"Right." I reached out. "Let me take care of that first."

She looked at my hand with concern. "What do you need to do?"

Right, her last experience with a 'healer' was when Panacea was threatening her with cancer and morbid obesity. I did my best to convey a non-threatening demeanor.

"Contact is enough. It will work through gloves and the suit. Is the shoulder alright?"

She nodded cautiously. "Left one? Right side caught a burst of something when Bakuda was dropping grenades from the courtyard."

I reached out and put my gloved hand on her left shoulder. This was also the first time I'd been able to really examine the costume. The fabric was tightly knit, and given her powers I was willing to bet that it was made of spider silk. I could tell the entire thing had been woven as a single piece rather than stitched together. It was impressive work. I mean, I could do better, but I had powers for that. She had obviously been leveraging her bug control pretty thoroughly.

I put the topic of costume design aside and focused on my nanites. Glowing blue circuitry lines appeared on my arm and spread across the surface of her costume as the tiny machines went to work. Through her lenses I saw Taylor's eyes go wide at the display. It only took a second of feedback to figure out what I was dealing with.

She was a mess.

I was honestly surprised she was still on her feet. It looked like she'd been running on a sprained ankle for a while now. She had numerous bruised ribs and that was on top of the two that were cracked. That should have made breathing agony, but somehow she was still managing. She had picked up enough contusions that her entire body was probably blooming into a giant bruise as we spoke. I was even getting evidence of earlier injuries. Possibly from training, or so I hoped because the only other explanation I could think of would be abuse.

I set the nanites to task. They were designed for much worse than this, and considering they didn't have to rebuild or replace any body parts it was basically a milk run for them. As her injuries started to vanish Taylor practically collapsed into my hand, but thankfully managed to stay upright. It was a relief to hear her breathing normalize.

"Doing alright?" I asked, looking down at her.

"God. I mean, yes, that's a lot better." She rolled her shoulders and took a deep breath. Her posture had become a lot less stiff, like she was coming back to herself somehow.

It occurred to me that at this moment I had an opportunity to bail from this mess. Taylor was safe. I could use my Escape formula to teleport both of us out of here, call back my motoroid, and get the fuck out. Assuming Bakuda kept the knives I would be able to track her down later. With the power I just received a few hours of crafting would let me put together a set of gear that would take her and all her forces to pieces. And all I would have to do is abandon four critically injured teenagers to whatever fate Bakuda had in store for them.

I didn't really like the Undersiders. They were nice enough as people, but I resented what they had come to represent. A lot of that was on me, but they had kind of come to symbolize the mess that came from reliance on my passenger. Being entrenched on the wrong side of the law, facilitating supervillains, and the association with an unknown crime lord all came about because I decided to blindly follow my passenger's lead. But that was ultimately my decision and I didn't feel right leaving a bunch of stupid kids to the horrors of this situation just because I regretted my own actions.

That was of course assuming I could even convince Taylor to bail. My passenger suggested she wouldn't be likely to abandon her friends, so short of knocking her out or suddenly getting a persuasion power from the Celestial Forge it looked like I was down to my original plan.

"What about the others? Do you know what happened to them?" I glanced briefly in the direction where I could sense my stiletto.

Taylor suddenly became agitated and she nodded shallowly. "Bakuda got them. I could only tell so much through my bugs, but it wasn't good."

I tensed as I asked the question I'd been dreading. "They still alive?"

Taylor shrunk into herself slightly. "Yes, but..."

I cut her off before she could go any further. "Good enough. Let's go."

"You don't understand, what she did..." She was becoming increasingly agitated.

I shook my head. "If it's not dead I should be able to handle it."

"What, seriously?" She pushed herself off the wall and approached me.

I shrugged. "It's good healing technology."

"That's not..." She stopped herself, shuddered, then continued. "Look, some of the things that were done, that Bakuda's been threatening, I don't think you can come back from something like that."

I gave her the most compassionate look that I could under the circumstances. We were two people with full face masks trying to communicate nuance to each other, which was just a recipe for frustration.

"It's really, really good healing technology. Trust me, those knives aren't the only thing Tattletale managed to get an insane discount on."

She looked at me uncertainly, then slowly nodded. I'm not sure if she was convinced, or just going along with it. I guess at this point she didn't have that many options. From the sound of things Bakuda had brutally cut her way through the Undersiders one by one. I didn't know what to expect, but the remains of the less lucky conscripts were telling enough.

"You can sense through your bugs, right? Do you have a location?" I had a rough indication of the direction of my stiletto, but that wasn't something I wanted to advertise. Also I had no guarantee that it wasn't sitting on the hip of another ABB gang member.

Taylor nodded. "Tattletale's closest. I know the route, but it isn't safe."

I pulled up a layout of the facility on my omni-tool, marking our location and every bomb I'd been able to detect. Taylor looked at the device hungrily.

"I can probably deal with most of the bombs. A lot of the triggers are using conventional detection methods, motion sensors or the like. Those are easy enough to fool."

She nodded and indicated a location on the map. "Tattletale's there. I mean, what's left of..."

"Right." I cut her off before she could get caught up in things and shifted the map to a zoom of the possible route. "Best to stay low. They should be pretty distracted, but I don't expect that to hold if we start jumping roofs."

"What's going on over there anyway?" She glanced towards the courtyard where the sounds of chaos and occasional impacts echoed forth. "I have a few bugs, but it's all over the place. I haven't been able to pick things out."

I grinned at her, even if my mask obscured it. "I left my robot and drone to keep them occupied."

She went still and tilted her head. "What? When did you get a robot? Robots?"

I made a dismissive gesture. "Friday."

She gave me a flat look through the yellow lenses of her goggles. "But didn't you come in on a motorcycle? And what happened to that armor you were wearing?"

I grinned a little wider. "Same answer to all those questions."

"Excuse me?" I was actually grateful to hear the exasperated tone over the grim, nearly defeated attitude she'd been showing since I ran into her.

"Motorcycle transforms into power armor that can function on its own." I shrugged. "Really all power armor should be able to if you know how to program it right."

She squared off against me. "And you built that on Friday?"

"Well, some of Friday." I responded flippantly.

"How long did it…" She cut herself off and started shaking her head. "What about that healing thing?"

I held up a hand. "Perfectly safe, but I'm going to have to hold off on the details."

"Great." She let out a breath. "What, was that a Saturday project?"

"No, I've been able to heal since before I ran into the Undersiders."

She looked like she wanted to follow up on that topic, but seemed to decide against it. "What about that thing?" She pointed at the glowing mass fields on my forearm.

"Omni-tool. Combination computer, scanner, and micro-fabricator."

"That from Friday too?" She gave me a flat look.

"This afternoon actually. Look, we should probably keep this to what's tactically relevant for the moment."

"Sure, alright." She glanced at the display again. "It can detect Bakuda's bombs?"

"At least some of them. I can't pick them up through solid walls, and some are easier to detect than others. We should be alright, but don't let your guard down."

She tightened her grip on her weapons. "Believe me, I won't."

We started picking our way through the network of storage units. Taylor only seemed half present and I found myself wondering how much information she was getting from her bugs. Fortunately she deemed to enlighten me.

"This place is wrecked." She glanced between the uneven ground and the cracked cinderblocks of the locker walls. "There are fissures through the foundation that extend to the outer walls." She considered things. "At least we have more ways out now. There are collapsed units and damage everywhere." Taylor shook her head. "I'd hate to think what would have happened if Bakuda did that inside the city."

"Sorry, did what?" I asked as we continued walking. She wasn't wrong about the damage. The shattered foundation had a tendency to shift angles between steps. The uneven ground made it impossible to maintain a normal stride.

"You were there right? Whatever she set off in the courtyard that did all this." She gestured around us.

"Oh..." I let the word draw out somewhat awkwardly.

"Oh what?" Her focus seemed to shift back from her power to her present surroundings, though it was less of a transition than I would have expected.

"Yeah, that wasn't Bakuda." I kept walking and ignored the girl glaring at me.

"Excuse me?"

I shrugged. "I figured I'd need something dramatic to put her off balance."

"Dramatic." Her voice was flat. "So you just grabbed a seismic weapon you had lying around?" There was an implication of 'why did you have a seismic weapon on hand and what were you planning to do with it?' that was strongly implied.

"Well, I didn't have it lying around, but when I got the call I figured I should try to get something ready." I knew I was needling her, but her exasperation seemed to keep her from dwelling on the darker aspects of the situation.

Plus it was fun.

"Are you telling me you built a weapon that did all this..." She gestured at the array of splintered concrete surrounding us. "Before you left for this rescue?"

I grinned. "Well, not BEFORE I left."

"What?"

"The bike has autopilot so I was able to get some work done on route."

"You made it in the time it took to ride here?"

"Well, it didn't take the entire time."

It turns out you can indeed see someone gape through a full face mask if the expression is strong enough. As amusing as this was, it did the job of getting her mind off what had happened to her teammates. I needed Taylor on task, so anything that kept her from ruminating on recent experiences was a plus.

As she processed the impossibility of my power I considered the nature of her own abilities.

"You said you could tell the whole facility was damaged?" My question seemed to draw her out of whatever train of thought she was working through.

"Uh, yeah. I can sense the location of any bugs in range. It's about three blocks, give or take. I get information from their senses, but it's hard to figure out."

I nodded. "Any limits on quantity or control?"

She shook her head. "As long as they're in range there's no problem. There's just so few bugs out here that I don't have much to work with. I've mostly been scouting with them, sometimes I've been able to throw people off, but nothing good for combat."

It made sense. The girl had all the traits of a serious master, range, scale, precision, and lethality. She could easily become a prominent cape, though I still wasn't seeing the application to actually saving the world.

That was something I was going to be keeping to myself until I could at least figure out the basics of it. Revealing that kind of detail would either cast my 'thinker power' into question or prove an invitation for every crazy nihilist on the planet. Worst case scenario it could even bring down the Endbringers. I hated having to deal with the entire mess myself, but I didn't see any other option. At least I had been able to pass off a reasonable explanation for the reason I was looking after her.

The Celestial Forge made a connection to a small mote from the Resources and Durability constellation. This one was called Element Analysis and it allowed me, with some work, to identify the elements of any material. More importantly, with some basic resources I could break anything down to its base elements. That would have been a huge boon for my nano assembly, but coupled with Workaholic it was pretty much an invitation to unlimited resources. With two powers I essentially had no logistical limits on what I could make. I would be able to build anything.

I just had to make it out of this situation first.

"Hold up." I stopped Taylor at an intersection. With my scanner we had been able to skirt most of the bombs but unfortunately the area was too saturated to provide a clear route. "There's a bomb." I pointed out an innocuous looking soda can on the ground that concealed one of Bakuda's devices.

"Can you handle that?" She looked apprehensively at the piece of litter.

I smiled at that. "It's using a standard ultrasonic transducer for its trigger. I mean completely standard, like store bought. I think she was throwing together everything she could for this mess."

Taylor nodded and I noticed a bug swoop past the can. "I can feel it. Sort of. Is that what she's using for the bombs?" There was a hopeful edge to her voice.

I shook my head. "Not all of them. This thing would be a lot easier if that was the case. I've been able to pick up more than a dozen different trigger mechanisms. I have no idea what the hell she's doing as far as these designs go."

That wasn't completely true. I had a rough idea, but I didn't want to sidetrack Taylor with tinker theory right now. Bakuda was showing signs of being a chaos tinker. Her work was all over the place and didn't seem that well directed. There were variations in trigger mechanism, area of effect, and even subtle differences in her exotic devices. I'm pretty sure she was just pointing her power in the right direction and seeing what came out.

It wasn't a possibility I enjoyed considering. While it meant she probably would have difficulty repeating certain designs exactly she would be building on previous successes and producing explosives with more variation that anyone would be able to account for. Even the drawback of being a chaos tinker, extensive testing, was completely side stepped by the presence of Oni Lee. Add in the mystery thinker coordinating things and you had a real nightmare scenario.

"So do we go around? Over the roof?"

I shook my head. "No route past, and the rooftop could give us away." I checked my omni-tool. I was specialized as a mechanic, not an operative, but I was still an engineer. Sabotage was basic battlefield practice, and typically against much more advanced systems than this. "I can overload the sensor without damaging the rest of the device."

Taylor watched my omni-tool intently. "How long will that ta..."

Before she finished speaking a guided surge of electricity jumped from my omni-tool to the soda can. There was a crackling sound and a wisp of smoke from the device, but no explosion. I checked my readings again.

"All clear, trigger's offline."

Taylor followed me as I cautiously approached the device. I pulled out my Diagnostic Tools when we reached the can.

"Let's see what we have here."

I worked the scanner while Taylor peered over my shoulder. When I got a look at the internals I let out a dry laugh.

"What?"

I turned to face her. "Bakuda must think she's funny. This is an ultra-high pressure liquid spray, built into a soda can."

"Yeah, that seems like her. What, is it like, poison or acid or something?"

"Doesn't need to be. At this pressure it's basically a water jet cutter. It would slice apart anyone it hits. Because of the pressure involved and the dissolved gas in the fluid even if you survived the attack you'd start to precipitate gas into your blood. Unless they got you in a hyperbolic chamber right away that would finish you off."

I could see her posture turn anxious at the thought. "Is it safe now?"

"The detonator's fried, and there's no remote trigger." I examined more closely. "Hold on."

"Hold on?" Taylor started edging away from me.

I stood up and packed away my scanner. "We need to move."

"What?" She looked at the bomb and seemed ready to bolt.

"It's not going to explode." I assured her. "But it had a link to Bakuda's systems. She'll know it's been knocked out, and that means..."

"She's coming."

"Her, or someone else. Or some grenades. So, we need to move."

I didn't need to tell her twice. As we moved I checked in with Fleet and Survey. Things were still chaos in the courtyard. Fleet was getting plenty of practice with those turbines, and to devastating effect. Since you don't see the thrust coming out of a jet engine so it's easy to imagine the flow as something like a light fan. In reality it's the kind of force that can send vehicles flying. My motoroid's turbines weren't on the level of a commercial airliner, but they were more than enough to badly inconvenience everyone in the area.

It also made landing a hit with a grenade a nightmare. The dust made aiming difficult, enough that my drone was picking as many shots out of the air as Survey could manage. Those that got through the turbines were able to send off course. That had its own consequences, as I was fed footage of the grisly after effects of a misaimed grenade on a group of scattered conscripts. I was able to push through it, but Taylor seemed more seriously impacted after glancing at my display. Rather than break down she seemed to withdraw into herself, which didn't seem like a good sign.

I noted more professional ABB members returning from somewhere holding what looked like rockets. Those would be significantly harder to dance around, but I guess I couldn't count on Bakuda pursuing a losing strategy forever. Hopefully we could collect the Undersiders before she got her act together enough to send someone after us.

"Two people are headed our way from the courtyard." Taylor's voice was borderline robotic and I wondered how much focus she was putting into her insects.

"Conscripts or gang members?"

"No," She swallowed. "It's Uber and Leet."

I never thought I would hear someone say those words with anything close to that level of concern and apprehension. "How long do we have?"

She shook her head. "Not long, they're using something to move over the roofs of the units. They're..." She trailed off and glanced at my map. "They're circling around, between us and Tattletale."

I cursed internally, but I guess our target would have been obvious. I pretty much declared my intention back at the courtyard. I considered trying to take the rooftops as well, but I didn't trust Taylor's footing and I was operating on accelerated physical conditioning and out-of-universe military training. I thought I could handle it, but didn't want to risk it while in the middle of a literal minefield.

We did make decent time, particularly since stealth wasn't the concern it previously was. I was freely frying bombs to open up routes with only a couple of close calls, one that detonated when disabled and one that was camouflaged beyond the ability of my sensors. Taylor was thankfully able to point it out and saved me from possibly blundering into a mystery explosive.

We had nearly reached Tattletale when Uber and Leet decided to make their appearance. By that I mean they literally made an appearance. There was a flash from the roof of one of the storage lockers and a blue backdrop appeared. Music started playing that I vaguely remembered from Mega Man stage selection, then the two least successful criminals in Brockton Bay appeared and started posing in front of it.

Taylor tensed, though from a surface level examination of the pair it was hard to share her apprehension. They looked like someone had covered them in glue and rolled them through a costume shop. No two items they were wearing seemed to come from the same game. I could pick out a few of them, such as the white gloves and Bowser horns from their Mario themed mint heist, but there was too much clutter to sort out anything. There was a mix of armor, martial arts clothing, cartoony weapons, and strange gadgets. I thought their outfits looked a bit disjointed back at the courtyard, but apparently they had added even more equipment in preparation for this.

They actually kept posing before the holographic backdrop as their names appeared beneath them in a blocky eight bit font. They were interrupted by the beeping of what sounded like a watch alarm and Leet made a cutting motion. While Uber finished his pointless showmanship Leet worked some device on his belt causing the music to cut off and the backdrop to collapse into motes of light. Almost immediately there was a crackling sound as a trail of smoke rose from the device, though Leet tucked it away and Uber made an attempt to distract from it.

To his credit few people could distract as well as Uber could.

"So, Apeiron has reunited with his Lady Khepri." He was using what I always thought of as his 'movie trailer' voice, booming and overly dramatic. "Are they bad enough dudes to rescue the Undersiders before time runs out?"

Next to me Taylor brought both weapons up in a defensive formation. "So, how do you want to play this?" She asked in a not-quite whisper.

I looked up at the pair of villains and sighed. "Frankly, I'm considering just blasting them full force and getting on with this."

Taylor shifted her stance and glared at them. "You know, I think I'd actually be alright with that."

The villains stopped posing and each dropped a hand to an item on their belts. "Hey, we can hear you." Leet called down to us.

"I'm well aware." I drew my eyes across them. "So what's the deal? This is a bit gruesome for your usual work."

Uber stood slightly taller as he answered in his over dramatic voice. "Personal request from a long-time fan. How could we refuse?"

"Simply and directly while you still had a shred of decency?" I glared up at them. Operating against an elevated position wasn't doing my military instincts any favors. "I assume you're referring to the ABB's new thinker. Anything you'd like to share?"

"I'm sorry, this is a spoiler-free confrontation." He wagged a finger from his free hand. "Wouldn't want to ruin it for the folks at home."

And that reminded me. These bastards streamed everything. Usually with enough of a delay to not actually give away their crimes, but they wouldn't be running with this level of showmanship if they weren't playing to an audience.

Well, probably an out-of-state audience considering the city and surrounding area was dark, but this would no doubt end up online at some point. Without looking I entered some commands through my omni-tool's haptic interface to scan for broadcasts, which I probably should have done from the moment I knew they would be on site.

"So what do you get out of this?" Somehow I doubted they would be quite as good at keeping secrets as Tattletale. It was a balance between drawing this out to get information and the potential of Bakuda rallying the ABB. Still, I needed to know about this thinker for one critical reason.

My passenger had nothing on them.

There was absolutely no reaction, no fear or confidence or affection. Not even indifference. It was just confusion. Whoever this was the safety net that had carried me was proving useless against them. Tattletale mentioned not being able to get a read, so there was the terrifying prospect of a stranger or counter-thinker power at work. At this point all I had was that Bakuda didn't like her and there was something about providing timing to the ABB. As such I was willing to stretch out this nonsense if there was a hope of filling in that terrifying blank spot.

Huh, I was going into a situation with the level of uncertainty normal people faced all the time. It's kind of incredible how quickly I got used to not having to deal with that.

"What we get is a chance to demonstrate our art, our passion, for a true fan of the craft."

"You see this as art?" I gestured at the damage around us. Okay, more than a little of that was due to my own efforts, but the effects of Bakuda's bombs were still prominently visible.

"Games are art. And in a world of chaos we're keeping that medium burning in the public consciousness."

"You tried to kill me with a jeep." Taylor's tone was a harsh contrast to Uber's showmanship.

"Oh. Hey Uber, she's the one that brought down Pinky. I wondered who managed that." Leet fiddled with some device pulled from his backpack and a series of sound effects played that even I could recognize. Power pill. Pac-Man eats ghost. That sound of the disembodied eyes rushing back to the center of the maze.

Taylor was not amused.

Just then the Celestial Forge connected to a mote from the Quality constellation. It was called Unnatural Skill:Smith. Once again, it functioned exactly as advertised. Absolutely legendary, unnatural skill at craftsmanship. Unlike Smithing this power had both breadth and depth. It covered everything from ancient weapon craft to advanced technology. It even gave the dexterity for high detail work and the knowledge to accomplish borderline supernatural feats.

Given the level of work I was capable of I was starting to wonder when it would actually count as supernatural. Considering my previous level of skill was approaching that realm, and this compounding with everything else it seemed like the distinction was becoming largely academic. I mean, with this I could build things that changed size, make modern technology with medieval smith tools, and work with actual supernatural metals.

Those would be fun to try to transmute, especially the bone steel. Really wasn't looking forward to that.

None of that was going to help me in this mess, so I put it aside and focused on the current standoff. After Leet little performance Taylor had fallen silent and was staring daggers at the villain tinker. I felt I should probably try something.

"Last warning." I reached towards one of my reagent pouches. "Get out of our way and you get to leave without a beating." From the way Taylor tightened her grip on the baton I was guessing she was more in favor of issuing said beating.

"No can do." Uber stepped forward. "We're seeing this through to the final level."

Leet moved next to him and struck a pose. "You aren't dealing with some shovelware knock off. This is classic, remastered, HD re-release Uber and Leet." He raised a finger towards us. "And you're going dow..."

He was cut off by a shotgun blast of concrete fragments. Taylor had smashed her baton along the wall of a storage unit. The enhanced impact had launched a spray of powder mixed with larger chunks of cinderblock at the pair. Uber recovered quickly, but Leet slipped and started to slide off the roof.

I grabbed my reagents and began mixing them as Uber started running in place. The red sneakers he was wearing created a kind of ring shaped blur as he built up speed. I quickly threw down the mixture for Flash. It was still my weakest formula but this time I wasn't pulling my punches. At full power and with it spread over only two targets they would be in for a visit to the burn ward and a lengthy recovery.

As the sparks wheeled out of the mixture Uber leapt into a ridiculously fast somersault while Leet dropped from the roof and grabbed something from his belt. The fire washed off him as familiar music started playing and his body began to flash. He held up a fist sized golden star and glared at me.

There was a pulse around Uber's spinning body that dispersed the flames and launched the burly cape towards us. I stepped forward and braced myself while Taylor dove out of the way.

The spinning dive collided with the effects of my Force Field formula, dispersing it but otherwise accomplishing precisely nothing. Inexplicably he bounced up into the air while still spinning and returned for another attack. The man hit like a truck, but between my reinforcement and low stance I shrugged him off. This time I was able to angle my body in a way that repelled him towards a nearby wall. In a display of acrobatics he kicked off the wall and landed on the ground, immediately building up speed again. That could have either been the equipment or Uber's power at work.

Taylor had climbed to her feet and was raining blows upon Leet's glowing form with her baton. Each of those strikes would have taken out a security door, but they didn't even budge the tinker. Still, he was attempting to put some distance between them as he fumbled with the equipment on his belt.

Uber started bouncing back and forth between the walls of the storage lockers with blinding speed. With each pass he took a shot at me. The blows did no damage but were unbalancing enough to stop me from drawing any more reagents. I was getting ready to queue up a plasma round from my omni-tool when another of those electric watch alarms sounded.

Uber immediately stopped and kicked off the oversized red shoes. He strode forward like nothing had happened, but I could see the shoes begin to twitch and seize on the ground.

"So I wanted to ask..." He dropped into a fighting stance and the wristbands on his arms briefly flared with blue flames. "Autobot or Decepticon?"

The question was so unexpected that without my military memories I probably would have dropped my guard. Instead I raised my omni-tool while reaching for a set of reagents. "What?"

"Your robot transformer. Autobot or Decepticon?" He started circling warily, but was clearly enjoying the banter. I didn't share his amusement.

"You want to talk about the ethical philosophy of drone software in the middle of a fight?" I mean there was devotion to a theme and then there was pure insanity.

"Come on, don't hold out on us." He darted forward and feinted with a jab before pulling back.

"It's neither. Which should have been obvious."

Uber actually seemed taken aback by that. "Seriously? But that doesn't..."

"Dude!" Leet called from where he had managed to pull back from Taylor's assault. "Tripredacus Council!" He had to shout over that stupid Mario Starman music that kept playing.

Uber grinned. "Of course. Third party agent. Should have seen it from the design."

"Obviously." Leet threw down the pokeballs he had pulled from his belt and in a flash of light a trio of creatures the looked like living cartoons appeared between him and Taylor. I recognized Charizard, but had no idea who the other two were. They looked something like salamanders that had crystals randomly attached to their bodies, so I'm guessing they were legendaries from one of the later games I never bothered with. There was another alarm sound and he quickly tossed the star aside. His body stopped flashing as the effect transferred to a patch of ground around the thrown piece of tinker tech. Said patch shortly began glowing a concerning color and emitting a column of smoke.

"Timing." The answer to this hit me like a flash.

Uber stiffened. "What?"

"It's all timing." I mixed two parts ash with a piece of iron and threw the reaction behind me. Black mist flew from the glowing mixture and formed dark clouds above the three hard light monsters. With a thunderous roar a trio of lightning bolts struck them. Their holograms flickered out, leaving fried emitters to fall to the ground. Khepri began to advance on an undefended Leet.

Uber's eyes darted over to his partner, then back to me. "You don't know what you're talking about."

I just grinned. "You haven't fixed the problem with any of your equipment. You just know when it will fail."

"So what?" He brought his wristbands together at his side, then thrust his hands forward with a cry of "Hadouken!"

The plasma ball rolled off my coat without meaningful effect. Clearly this was hitting a nerve and I meant to press it for all it was worth. "You're still the same screw-ups as before. You just have that new thinker propping you up."

In the corner of my eye Leet was messing with the latch of a case that had an octagon made out of red and white triangles on the cover. In his haste the lid flew open spilling small disks across the entire area. I shifted my focus back to Uber. The cape's wristbands were glowing as he slid forward into some kind of spinning uppercut. Luckily I was just able to dodge the strike.

Uber spun out of his failed punch and moved in for a grab, but I managed to counter his lunge with a slight motion of my blocking hand. My micromanipulators combined with the new dexterity from Unnatural Skilll were adding a level of precision to my blocks and punches I never would have imagined. I nearly turned the swing against him, but Uber was stronger than me and his power improved his fighting to near perfection once he had focused on a technique.

"The gear works. Doesn't matter if it's for a minute or an hour. It's just like managing battery life." He swung in with a rapid series of blows that I managed to deflect with minimal movements from a tight guard.

"You're ignoring the issue. Trading one problem for another. It's just going to blow up in your face again." Leet seemed to react to that, but I kept my focus on Uber. My combat training was carrying me through the fight by supplementing and mostly overriding my limited boxing experience. I did have to constantly remind myself not to activate my omni-tool's melee contingency. That thing could range from 'very lethal' to 'spectacularly lethal'.

"Gamers are used to working against the clock. It's a welcome challenge. We're going to show the world what Uber and Leet can do at the top of their game!"

He was gaining the upper hand. Uber was stronger, had more experience fighting capes, and was running a power that quickly brought his techniques to perfection. Despite my best efforts he managed to slip past my guard and land a grip on my shoulders.

For some reason the grip was stronger than it should have been, seemingly due to the effect of some kind of attractive force from his belt. And the red briefs he was wearing. The full implications didn't hit me until Uber had already flipped me upside down and launched into a spinning pile driver.

The ground lurched away as we rocketed into the air. I felt my stomach try to drop out of my throat and had to fight off intense dizziness as I stared at the spinning ground from a terrifying height. It was the kind of situation that made you quickly reevaluate your previously agreed level of restraint.

Closing distance to a tinker can seem like a good idea. Closing distance to a combat engineer is much less of a good idea. Closing distance to a combat engineer who is faced with a head first spinning body slam and thus no longer that concerned about lethal force is a down right terrible idea.

I triggered the melee contingency on my omni-tool and sent a burst of high energy plasma, fabricated from my energy and omni-gel reserves, directly at Uber. To my surprise it was accompanied by four more jets of plasma, because I can't turn my powers off and apparently Workaholic counts omni-tool fabrication as part of that power. I only had a fraction of a second to make sure it wasn't a single burst twenty five times the size. That would have reduced Uber to the consistency of an overcooked pork chop.

I doubt he was grateful for that consideration from the way he screamed and launched me away from him. As we were at the peak of a thirty foot jump I slammed down onto the edge of one of the storage units before dropping to the ground. It wasn't a pleasant sensation, but aside from being a bit jarring and disorienting I was fine.

The same couldn't be said for Uber who was nursing singed flesh and peeling off ruined pieces of equipment. The Celestial Forge missed a connection to the Time constellation as we squared off again.

"So that's it? All this madness for the sake of your egos? You're trying to convince people you haven't been churning out crap all these years?"

"Fuck you." The harshness of Leet's voice surprised me. Apparently that cut closer to the bone than I imagined. A quick glance showed things weren't going that well for Taylor. The disks Leet had scattered on the ground were some kind of fabricators, pulling in material from the broken concrete surface into animated constructs. It created the effect of a field of zombies clawing their way out of the earth. The sheer volume of them had put Taylor on the defensive. She'd finally brought my knife into play, but there were two zombies waiting for every one she dropped.

"Easy Leet." Uber placated. "Don't break character."

I wasn't about to let things stand at that. "No, let's hear it. If you're stepping up from petty theft to terrorism I want to know the reason."

"Petty!" Leet screeched. "I'll show you petty!" He fumbled with his backpack and produced a large gun with a thick glowing cylinder for a barrel and a series of claw like protrusions at the front.

Uber smirked at me. "I'd say not to let him bait you, but this is going to be good."

The barrel of the gun glowed orange as he adjusted something and a piece of debris jumped up to float in front of it. Leet angled the chunk of concrete with seemingly no effort and launched it towards me at an insane speed.

My reinforcement was more than enough to take the hit but there were Newtonian effects that I couldn't compensate for. More pieces of debris started flying towards me in a disorienting stream. It didn't help that Uber was launching into some kind of spinning lariat at the same time. Together it would have been an impressively coordinated attack if not for the fact that Leet immediately began choking on a cloud of insects and another of those watch alarms started to sound from Uber.

I was very grateful he decided to wear the wrestling briefs over his costume. You would think that was a given, but there were horror stories about some of their more spectacular failures.

Apparently Taylor had been able to coordinate the insects without the slightest pause in her zombie slicing. She moved through them like a maelstrom, the speed enhancement of the wind runes on full display. The knife seemed to be flying out of her hand as she fought. Even the seemingly endless supply of fabricated zombies was having a hard time keeping up with her.

If she wanted to distance herself from what happened to Aegis this was a crap way to do it. Leet was watching her nervously while checking some reading on the case that had held the zombie disks.

"Fuck it." He called over the melee while swatting away more bugs. "Uber, time to end this."

The burly cape grinned at me. "You don't know how long it's been since we've been able to use this."

"Think it'll have any more luck than your last nonsense?" They were frustrating, but I still didn't want them dead. An Overload burst from my omni-tool should put them down without any seriously lethal damage. I selected the blast while Uber took a guard position with his arms and raised his front knee.

"Don't underestimate us." There was a flash in front of him as he screamed "Shun Goku Satsu!"

The cape blurred as he surged forward. The burst of electricity from my omni-tool passed harmlessly through his shadowy form. Then he was upon me and everything went dark.

I can't explain the experience that followed without resorting to levels of profanity that would make a longshoreman faint. On a basic level I was suspended in a void as blows rained upon me, but that was not even scratching the surface of how bad the situation actually was. Each hit sent a tearing sensation right through the core of my being. My durability was still there, but did nothing for the pain and the damage still piled up. The pain was especially bad. It was like this was designed to be particularly torturous.

The blows weren't really blows, it was more like someone was reaching into my body and tearing things out of alignment. I tasted blood in my mouth and felt the splintering of bones. Muscles tore and agony rippled through my entire body.

When the world faded back I was lying on the ground and Uber was standing facing away from me with a large Asian character glowing on his back. To my even greater annoyance he launched into a grandiose speech.

"Raging Demon. Attacks the targets soul with the karmic weight of their sins."

"Fuck your soul" I choked out as I pulled myself to my feet. "That was a dressed up concentrated spatial disruption."

"I'm impressed you're still conscious." He played it off like a joke, but there was some real concern in his expression. "Few men can stand before that kind of power."

"It was certainly an inconvenience."

He frowned. "Those injuries..."

"Are nothing." I focused on my nanites and blue lines spread across my costume. I could feel the damage from the stupid attack vanish as they rebuilt my body. In the end the only sign of the attack was a series of tears across my costume.

Damn it, Garment was going to be furious with me.

Uber was gaping at me and Leet had stopped fiddling with a copy of Link's sword to join him. I turned to Taylor, who had been able to whittle the zombie hoard down to a pack defending the villain tinker.

"Khepri, how are you managing?"

She smashed a zombie's chest with her baton, causing it to collapse into a pile of the concrete it was formed from. Without looking she took the head of another with her blade. "Not enough bugs around here." She was playing things casual, but I could tell the constant combat was wearing on her endurance. I reached for one of my more obscure formulas.

"Oh, right. I meant to give this to you earlier. Either it'll solve that bug supply problem, or maim Uber and Leet within an inch of their lives."

"So win-win?"

I had no idea if this was going to work. If Taylor could interface with it then with her level of control it should let her protect herself for the rest of this nightmare. If not it was still one of my better attack formulas and would take Uber and Leet out of the fight barring anything short of additional invincibility gadgets.

Why did those have to be so common in videogames?

I mixed the two drams of water and one of vinegar. The reagents for my Sting formula. Because Evermore Alchemy was all over the place of course it had a way to conjure insects. I tossed down the mixture and it floated through the air before forming into a facsimile of a wasp's nest. Then the entire mass exploded into a swarm of insects that would put Japanese hornets to shame.

In normal circumstances they would blaze towards the target of the formula and tear into them, expending themselves after a single powerful sting. Instead the entire cloud held position before flowing over to Khepri. She seemed contemplative as she held them in a tight orbit around herself, then sent a single insect towards an approaching zombie.

It blasted through the creatures head like a gunshot before vanishing. Her posture shifted to an amused stance as the swarm dispersed, taking out the remaining zombies and tearing into Leet's equipment.

Uber moved to help him but this time didn't have his spatial nonsense defending him. My overload blast caught him and he collapsed into a flailing mess, various pieces of equipment sparking and twitching. I moved over and secured the barely conscious cape in a headlock.

"So I guess we can call this. Are you going to admit defeat or should the beating continue?"

Leet looked to me over the remains of his minions and twitching form of his teammate. A particular explosion from the direction of the courtyard seemed to catch his attention. He brought a finger to an earpiece and smirked at me.

"You think you've won? We just accomplished everything we set out to do."

I glanced down at my omni-tool and saw the reason for his smug demeanor.

"What's he talking about?" Taylor was drawing the ring of alchemical insects closer, causing Leet to tense, though the tinker didn't back down. Instead he turned to her and gloated.

"What I mean is that Bakuda has just..."

"She's taken out my drone. Rocket strike."

The tinker glared at me but continued. "That's right. Now that the cover's gone your robot will be next, then you'll have the whole of the ABB hunting you down."

I sighed. "I can't believe you were stalling us to take out my drone."

His smirk grew a cruel edge. "Didn't see that coming? What, didn't plan on loosing that in the field? All that wasted time and effort suddenly up in smoke. Thought you were the hot shot new tinker, huh? How does it feel to lose?"

The Vehicles constellation passed by without a connection. "You don't understand. I can't believe that was the point of all this. Just to take out a drone."

Leet was becoming agitated. "You can pretend it doesn't matter all you want, but your still down an asset. You've still lost all the time and effort it took to build it."

"What, this effort?"

I raised my omni-tool and began fabrication of a new drone. The capacitors had long since recovered from the last deployment. Oh, and with my Workaholic power insisting on affecting everything I did the single fabrication expanded to five drones. They appeared arranged in a pentagon formation behind me.

"Did you just make those? All of those?" His eyes were jumping between the rapidly spinning bugs and the array of glowing drones.

"What, you thought I was teleporting them in? Or using some kind of spatial pocket? Please."

"Leet…" Uber gurgled from beneath my hold. "Think it's time…" He struggled for breath against my arm. "For a reset."

The tinker nodded apprehensively. His hand dropped to a thick blue bracer. Suddenly his body vanished into a thin beam of light that launched into the sky. Beneath my grip Uber dissolved into a cloud of expanding spheres.

"The hell?" The insects she was controlling seemed to react more than Taylor did.

"Mega Man reference, I think. Covering some teleport effect." Given the rest of what had been displayed teleportation wasn't beyond the pale. I climbed to my feet as Taylor sheathed her blade.

Huh. That was the first time she had put it away since I had found her. It seemed like a positive thing.

I keyed some commands to Survey. My omni-tool wasn't really designed to command more than one drone, but between the A.I. coordination and the cheating nature of Workaholic it could be managed. Taylor watched as the cluster of glowing constructs rose into the sky and sped towards the courtyard.

Oh, they were going to ruin someone's day.

"Alright, let's get Tattletale before any other idiots show up."

Taylor nodded to me and we pushed past the aftermath of the fight towards the next member of the Undersiders, and hopefully, finally, some answers.

Jumpchain abilities this chapter:

Workaholic (Sonic The Hedgehog) 300:
Sometimes you wonder how some geniuses are able to build entire armadas within days or weeks of their last defeat. You become a walking factory of production. Building in masse is something that comes without issue to you. That one bot that took a week to build? Now that one bot is now 5. Or roughly 3x the size it was before. How do you even have the resources to build so much you say? The hell if I know.

Element Analysis (Bomberman 64: The Second Attack) 100:
With a little elbow grease, you can easily identify the elemental composition of ANY material and with the right resources, break it down to its base elements for further use.

Unnatural Skill:Smith (Percy Jackson) 200:
Whether from your heritage or just being that good you've got one particular mundane skill that your feats with border on supernatural. Whether you're a smith on the level of the Cyclopses, a near prescient tactician or a swordsman who is ny unstoppable with a blade your feats will be legendary. You are on a level within your skill such that only other beings of legend can hope to match you. This may be taken multiple times. You may not choose magic but you may choose a particular application of magic if you have it already (so curses, enchanting might work, more specific gets a bigger boost).
 
19 Restoration
19 Restoration

I took a moment to take in the damage our brief confrontation had inflicted on the area. I still couldn't believe that Uber and Leet were presenting themselves as a serious threat. I also was shocked that they'd signed on to something as monstrous as this plan. Before this I think their lowest point was that Grand Theft Auto stunt, the one where they decided to beat up prostitutes. That was awful, but still a far cry from hunting teenagers in a trapped arena with conscripted minions in fear for their lives.

It was a grim thought, but the increase in effectiveness and the brutality of their actions were probably related. Even though I was holding back, there were closer calls in that fight than I would have ever expected. There's a chance that spinning pile driver could have knocked me out, and that special attack was probably the most dangerous thing I'd ever seen them bring to bear. Suddenly they weren't afraid of equipment failure. Without that thinker's help it's possible this attack could have fallen apart when the entrance hologram fried, and I had the sense that the feedback from any of those pieces of gear crapping out would have been thoroughly unpleasant.

It seemed like Uber and Leet had signed on to this mess for the chance to take center stage. With the new thinker they could bring all their best equipment out of retirement. That kind of loadout would unquestionably make them serious threats. The only thing it cost them was a permanent association with one of the most hideous acts of cape brutality outside the Slaughterhouse Nine. Did they even understand what they had been signing up for? Somehow I doubted it. The pair always seemed like the kind who acted before thinking, taking an idea that could have been fun and cool and running with it to the point where everyone was uncomfortable or disgusted. I wouldn't be surprised if they hadn't given a second thought to what was happening here, instead focusing on showmanship and the chance to use their best gear. A large portion of which was scattered on the ground around us.

As much as I wanted to get a look at the discarded equipment the options weren't exactly appealing. The invincibility star had a six foot glowing patch around it that was sending rainbow smoke into the sky. Glancing over the remains of the zombies showed no obvious sign of the disks that were animating them, meaning they would probably be a trial to reverse engineer. The shoes Uber had used were blurred and twitching so fast they seemed to be half inside the ground, and there was no way I was touching those wrestling briefs.

Depending on how this mess played out I might be able to cycle back for some salvage later, but right now we were on a time limit. I checked my omni-tool's link to my drones. The pack had just arrived at the courtyard, to the considerable displeasure of Bakuda. Actually, was pack the right word? What was the collective noun for a group of drones? Swarm? Flock? Gaggle?

From the ABB's reaction it seemed like it was probably a 'profanity' of drones. The worst of the dust from my motoroid's initial strike had settled and the state of the ABB forces was coming into focus. I don't know if it was an actual shift in leadership or just the general chaos but the focus of the group had shifted. Instead of being entirely guided by Bakuda they were more dependent on the professional gang members. To be fair, I had given them a problem they couldn't exactly throw soccer moms with kitchen knives at and hope for the best. As such the serious members of the ABB were working to coordinate the more competent looking conscripts, to varying levels of success.

They were actually splitting out the conscripts with ranged weapons from those with random blunt or sharp objects. They began taking pot shots at my drones while other gang members tried to coordinate a press ganging of conscripts into managing the heavier equipment. Well, tried to various levels of success. They didn't have access to Bakuda's mystery detonator and the tinker in question was too busy trying to figure out a way to counter my latest move.

I watched one young ABB member, probably still in high school, unsuccessfully try to harass an older man in coveralls away from tending to a group of injured conscripts. The aftermath of one of the missed grenades. Thankfully the injuries were conventional, but that didn't mean much to the wounded. The teenager seemed to consider if he should call the man's possibly-not-a-bluff and interrupt Bakuda, then gave up, running off to find someone else to haul cases of rockets.

The Celestial Forge missed a connection to the Size constellation as I noticed Taylor glancing at my display.

"We should have some time before they can get mobilized." I killed the feed of the wounded conscripts back at the courtyard. "Any injuries before we move on?"

She shook her head. "Just a bit out of breath. Is there a limit? On how much you can heal, I mean."

"Sort of." If I harvested my nanites it would hamstring my ability to heal until they were replaced. It looked like getting distracted from that particular project had some advantages. "None I'm likely to run into tonight."

She nodded and indicated a row of lockers. "Tattletale's down there. It's... It's not pretty."

I steeled myself and checked my omni-tool scanner. "Looks like they trapped the area, probably hoping to catch anyone who stumbled in."

On that note, I remembered that I was walking around a mine field without my Force Field formula up. It was time to correct that. I dug out the reagents, a dram of grease and a piece of iron, and combined them. The mixture glowed and settled over my body in a protective, though ablative, barrier.

"What was that?"

"Force Field. Kind of like Glory Girl's, but only good for one shot. Uber burst mine the first time he hit with that spinning dive thing."

"That's the 'high energy chemistry' thing you were talking about? The stuff that let you fight Oni Lee?"

"That was a different effect, but yeah."

A handful of the remaining alchemical insects swarmed next to Taylor. "Same for these?"

"That's right. They're kind of like projections, or energy constructs. To be honest I wasn't sure you would be able to direct them."

I could see Taylor squinting through her goggles. "It's not easy. Normal insects have minds and instincts, all this software that tells me what they are and what they can do. These things, it's like they're blank slates. Their senses are all messed up and I'm pretty sure they're not flying properly. I mean, not using aerodynamics."

She looked off into the distance as the conjured insects slowed in their rotation around her. Seeing them clearly made me realize they didn't really look like actual animals. There was no subtle movement of the legs or body and the wings seemed to be flickering in a manner that was completely unrelated to how they flowed through the air.

She shook her head and seemed to come back to the moment. "How did you make these? I thought you like, reinforced things with that stuff. But you can shoot fire? Lightning? Make insects?"

I really didn't want to get into the insanity of Evermore Alchemy right now. Partially because it was a distraction from a serious situation and partially because there was no real explanation at this point that didn't get into the concept of magic. Capes who claimed they were using magic always put people on edge and I didn't need that now.

"It's really complicated. Tinkering works down some weird avenues, and mine is a bit more out there than most."

Taylor's eyes drew over the roofs of the lockers where the shape of one of my drones was just visible, shooting an electric discharge before veering out of the way of a rocket launched up from the courtyard.

"You don't say." Her voice was flat.

I looked at Taylor and the vulnerability of her situation suddenly hit me full force. The obsessive protectionism I'd been working under had been dampened lately. Mostly that was due to my passenger restraining his reactions following my near melt down after the incident with Aegis getting slashed apart.

You know, I needed a better name for that moment, if just to quantify the point where things had gone totally wrong. The Aegis slash? Aegislash? Eh, I'll come up with something.

The point is, nothing about the situation that dragged me into this mess had changed. I was just reacting less strongly because my passenger wasn't hammering things home with the same level of intensity. It was a sign of just how much my passenger had been influencing me, and I wasn't too thrilled about that.

I'd been willing to draw out a fight with dangerous, experienced capes leaving Taylor at risk in the hopes of drawing out some information about the new thinker. Grant it, the capes were Uber and Leet, so even with Taylor's warnings I was kind of expecting them to trip over their own feet into a pile of failure. The pairs history as failures and internet jokes coupled with my passenger not recognizing them as threats had even cause me to mentally separate them from the horrific aspects of this nightmare. They were as accountable for the forced conscripts and civilian casualties as Bakuda, but I just hadn't made the connection at the time.

The situation was harrowing. Was I willing to risk the future of the world just because I had stopped being constantly reminded of its importance? It felt like I was being simultaneously enabled and obscured by my passenger's 'assistance'.

I needed to start managing these things myself rather than relying on my passenger, my implanted military experience, or my power to do the thinking for me. The first step would be taking the sensible precaution I should have put in place ages ago.

"Hold on." I called to Taylor. "This should help." She gave me a confused look as I mixed the reagents and the glowing energy flowed over her. Afterwards she kept checking her costume to see what I'd done.

"Force Field formula."

"You can do that for other people?" I could see her eyes widen through her lenses.

"Generally yes. Some applications are more restricted, but this one works. The field will negate a single hit."

"Seriously? You just handed out a Glory Girl force field?" The shocked tone more than made up for not being able to see her expression. "Just like that?"

"It's only good for one shot. Doesn't matter if it's a howitzer or a bb gun, one hit will bring it down. Also, I only have the materials prepared for two more of those, so be careful. Still, it should protect you from a surprise attack or something you can't avoid."

"Like one of the bombs?" She asked hopefully.

"A lot of the bombs, but not all of them." I clarified for her. "Some of these effects don't count as damage for the purpose of that field. Also any ongoing effect is going to burn right through it. You're not invincible, but it should help."

She nodded grimly and looked towards Tattletale's location. We didn't say anything else as we covered the last of the short distance to the storage locker. Two of the traps I was able to disarm remotely, but the final one on the door was positioned such that I couldn't access the triggering mechanism. I ended up needing to use my diagnostic tools get a reading and my omni-tool to burrow through the door and manipulate it remotely. It was inconvenient, but not really much of a technical challenge.

It seemed my level of technical knowledge could counter anything but Bakuda's 'A-game'. That infuriatingly complex deadman's switch was the best example of what she was really capable of. For the rest of this stuff it looked like she had emptied her workshop of whatever had been thrown together in the time since her Cornell bombing. It meant I could deal with most of what she was throwing at me for the moment, but also meant if I didn't get a handle on this situation soon I would be facing nothing but her 'A-game' devices.

With a few quick adjustments the trigger, simply attached to the door of all things, was disabled and the bomb was rendered harmless. I was able to enter the storage locker and see the results of personally pissing off Bakuda.

It wasn't pretty.

I did my best to block Taylor's view of the interior, but the girl pushed past to check on her friend. When she saw what was inside I was afraid she was going to bolt, break down, or even vomit. Instead she went dead still with only the movements of her cloud of insects letting me know she was still present.

"What happened?" She spoke quietly, but still clearly audible over the shallow labored breathing coming from the far side of the locker.

I took in the unpleasant sight. With a deep breath I pushed forward with the most technical explanation I could manage. "Most likely material phasing. Possibly an effect derived from Shadow Stalkers power. Probably a more even and controlled fusion than what happens with her, which is why none of it's been lethal, no airway's cut off or blood flow blocked. Still impeded based on her breathing and the paleness of her skin." Eyes darted towards me from the mess in the locker, a mix of panic and hope.

"Can you..." Taylor swallowed audibly. "How bad is it? Is... Is she going to be okay?"

I walked into the locker and crouched down. "Probably not."

Taylor tensed. "You can't help her?"

"Oh, no. I can totally fix this." I replied flippantly. "There's no problem there."

"What?"

"Yeah," I glanced back at her. "She's just going to owe me so much money."

Taylor gaped at me and Tattletales eyes had gone from desperate to frustrated. Really, anything that broke the previous mood was a good thing and I was going to milk it for all it was worth.

"Money?" Taylor asked.

"Crippling medical debt." Tattletale squinted at me. "The deal was market rate for any medical care. Well, do you know how expensive it would be to get a team of doctors to try to do this?"

I put a hand on part of Tattletale's costume that wasn't fused with the wall, floor, or contents of the locker. Glowing lines extended from my glove across her body as nanites flowed forth. Unlike Taylor's patch job this was serious healing, but still within my capabilities. I was leaning heavily on the innate medical abilities of my nanite control power. That was because the breadth of knowledge from my other powers was pretty light in terms of health care. I knew a bit of medieval chirurgery and some cybernetics with almost nothing in between. It was a good thing that a person's understanding of the healing process was completely irrelevant to this power.

Despite the fact that the power was working on autopilot I still got a guided tour of the damage that had been inflicted. I was right. Bakuda had designed this to be non-lethal, at least initially. The portions of Tattletales body that had merged with her surroundings took precedence over the other materials upon fusion. Even part of a chair embedded in her torso hadn't caused any organ damage, only a solidification of the tissue surrounding them and the integration of new matter.

It was a disgusting process, but I kept pushing through. These nanites could handle significantly more dramatic mutations than this. Bit by bit they worked away at the intermingled matter and flesh, processing it back into a normal human body. The horrific hybridization of wood, concrete, or metal with body tissue was broken down and rebuilt completely fresh and unmarred.

Externally the process looked much cleaner, and advantage of not having your awareness swimming through someone's intestines. All that appeared to be happening was a set of blue lines spreading across Tattletale's costume, briefly creeping up the objects merged with her, and then cleanly separating them. One by one the attached material either dropped off or, in the case of the wall and floor, opened a cavity to free the captive cape.

The process was smooth, but took an intense amount of focus and more time than any act of healing I'd attempted so far. When Tattletale finally fell to the floor of the locker, complete and unharmed, I felt a wave of mental exhaustion. Taylor rushed to support the panting girl as I tried to collect myself.

Nanite control was direct and personal. I was basically extending my will into the machines and directing their actions. Because of that I had felt every moment of the healing like it was my own hand. I knew exactly how bad that condition was and how impossible it would have been to fix. With the amount of incursion in the central nervous system I doubt even Panacea would have been able to patch things up. Actually, that disruption of her motor functions probably prevented her from hurting herself in a panic, so small mercies.

As Taylor tried to help Tattletale to her feet I looked over the aftermath. It seemed that she had been shoved into a pile of junk, probably the contents of the locker, before the bomb was set off. Now the various items had smooth cutouts anywhere they had fused with Tattletale, along with a few depressions in the wall and floor.

The girl was finally upright, though showing some damage from the encounter with Bakuda's device. Anywhere the material had been separated it had taken a portion of her costume with it. Thankfully her outfit was still decent, but she was missing large patches around her neck, pretty much the entire right arm, the left leg from mid-thigh to ankle and the calf of the other leg. The rest of the jumpsuit had erratic gaps and missing portions, including a bare midriff.

The thinker took a few deep breaths then gently pushed Taylor aside to check her balance. After steadying herself she turned and glared at me.

"Medical debt?"

I shrugged. "Figured it would help get your mind off things." With a more serious tone I asked. "How is it? Any lingering problems or effects?"

The girl closed her eyes for a moment then opened them slowly. "No, I think I'm alright. Thank god." She did a quick pat down, seemingly checking that everything was where it was supposed to be, or just enjoying having range of motion and mobility once again.

While Tattletale pulled herself together I felt the Celestial Forge connect to a mote from the Crafting constellation. Like with a lot of my other powers it contained a gigantic amount of information, this time centered on the construction of armor. Despite the staggering volume of the data, for once there wasn't any disorientation or difficulty processing the information. That was because unlike every other power that had dropped knowledge into my head, this one was actually intended to be dropped into someone's head.

I was looking at an actual mental database, and I'm not using that term metaphorically. It had an index. It had a glossary. It had a God damn search function. This was a mental schema that had been carefully designed to give someone the abilities of a Master Armourer. Unlike everything else I'd been struggling with this thing was actually engineered to be as user friendly as possible. It didn't even rely on previous knowledge. I'm pretty sure this could have been dumped into the head of an illiterate cave man and he'd be able to start churning out advanced protective equipment without any trouble.

The volume of information contained in the database was staggering, encompassing thousands of years from a population of billions. It covered everything from basic hammered plate mail to insanely advanced power armor that needed three layers of infrastructure to even attempt construction. The technical details behind the assembly was irrelevant. This was focused on the process of crafting and as such was completely devoid of any theory or principle behind the armor.

There was one other shocking detail. Similar to how I could tell the connection between the Master Builder and Science! powers there was a similar link between Armourer and my Laboratorium. I probably could have figured that out from the designs of the armor. I couldn't quite build the kinds of suits depicted in the mural of that group of men with the winged woman, but I could see the stylistic similarities.

I had a feeling that with this power I was tapping into something similar to the robot civilization of Master Builder. There were clearly thousands of years of history connected to this ability, and while I didn't have larger context there were hints of the culture. Details like the designs of the armor, the assembly methods, or the types of infrastructure needed painted a detailed, if incomplete picture. Skulls and religious iconography were very common stylistic choices, as if I wouldn't have been able to figure that out from my Laboratorium.

There was also a massive inconsistency in the level of technology. Some of the suits of armor were advanced even by my standards, while others were basic in the extreme. There was a discordant fusion between them, where basic and advanced components were mashed together in a manner that kind of worked, providing you didn't change anything or look at it too hard. Whatever design process went into this seemed to have a deadly fear of innovation and, while the works weren't precisely dated, there seemed to be a distinct downward trend in complexity.

It was something I could deal with later. I had a database I would be able to plunder for technology and material designs, but that was no help with the current situation. Turning back to Tattletale she seemed finally satisfied that her body was fully intact.

The girl paused when she ran her hands through her hair, then turned to me. "You can fix hair but not clothing?"

I couldn't tell if she was actually back to her old self, or just putting up a good front. Regardless, I doubted she wanted me to dig into the issue.

"You didn't negotiate for tailoring. I can cut you a deal if you want? Decent rates and minimal rush charges."

She took a moment to check the integrity of her costume. Despite the missing portions it was still serviceable and you saw less coverage from the average Boardwalk patron.

"I think I'm good." She reached down to her boot, thankfully both were mostly saved from the fusion effect, and pulled out my stiletto from a well concealed sheath and looked over the design. "Don't think I'm quite ready to embrace your stylistic initiatives."

I noticed both of them glance over my costume at that statement. I couldn't tell if that was a dig at my fashion sense or just a comment about her own tastes. Regardless, I let it go. If she wanted to head out in battle damage mode I wasn't going to stop her. Also, from her posture she seemed a bit more defensive than usual.

Yeah, this was definitely affecting her. I'm not sure if she had the kind of thinker power that would help her deal with something like this, or the type that would make it worse. Still, as long as she could hold it together through the rest of this encounter I could manage.

Taylor looked between me and Tattletale, who was carefully sheathing the knife. "So, what next?"

"Well, I could use some context here. You were kind of brief on the phone and Bakuda wasn't exactly forthcoming."

Tattletale nodded. "I could hear your side of the conversation from here. At least from the point where you started using that speaker." Her eyes drifted between me and Taylor and there was something there I couldn't place.

"Well, we probably have a minute. Care to fill me in on how this mess started?"

After one last glance at Taylor Tattletale began her explanation. "It started with Bitch. She missed a check in and we decided to follow up on her. Bakuda had this whole place set up waiting for us. It's her big debut, an Uber and Leet broadcast with extra coverage showing her taking down capes that messed with the ABB."

"That does seem like her style." The woman liked an audience for her ranting. Seriously, it was like she was trying to over play the mad tinker stereotype.

"Once we got here they split us up and started hunting us down. It was..." Her eyes went vacant for a moment before she seemed to pull herself together. Taylor also stiffened at the mention of the event. "It was about showing off, not stopping us. She wanted everyone to know what she was capable of, the kinds of bombs she made, her technology. She was drawing it out, even endangering her own people for more chances to show off."

I nodded grimly. "I saw the effects of that."

Tattletale swallowed and glanced at the back of the locker. "When she cornered me I tried to throw her off, get at her insecurities. I figured she wouldn't do her finisher if it wasn't something she could broadcast and gloat over."

"I did wonder why you decided to start taunting the bomb tinker." I tried to keep my tone neutral, but it clearly got to Tattletale more than I intended.

"Yeah, well it looks like I wasn't the only one who pissed her off to the point she decided to retort with an explosive." Her tone was defensive as she gestured at the cracked walls of the locker and the shattered ground outside.

Taylor made an awkward cough and I tried to look innocent.

"What?" She kept glancing back and forth between the two of us and I could practically see the wheels turning in her head. "No..."

"In my defense, it did prove to be an excellent distraction." I pulled up a view of the courtyard on my omni-tool.

If I described Taylor as giving the device a hungry look when she first saw it then Tattletale was salivating like a starving man who wandered into a cruise ship buffet. She started reaching towards the glowing orange holograms before restraining herself, instead gluing her eyes to the display.

Despite the greater forces deployed against them the ABB had managed to impose some level of order. Heavier weapons were being distributed to the people in full gang colors and groups of conscripts were beginning to push out of the courtyard. The heavier firepower meant Fleet and Survey were harder pressed to keep the forces contained, as demonstrated when my motoroid buzzed a group of conscripts preparing to move out, only to have to pull up as a trio of rockets launched its way. Still that was an impressive improvement in aerial maneuverability over the 'launch and fall' tactic I began the battle with. I was proud of how Fleet was developing.

Tattletale's eyes widened at the site of my motoroid, then further at my reaction to it. Whatever processing difficulties she was having weren't made any better when Taylor leaned in and helpfully offered "He built it on Friday."

The thinker rubbed her forehead for a moment before taking a breath and turning to Taylor. Before she could say anything her eyes fell on one of the remaining alchemical insects that were being kept in a slow orbit. She looked from the artificial creation, to Taylor, to me, then flinched and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Uh, we probably don't have that much time before we're swimming in gang members and forced recruits. Do you have a location for the other Undersiders?"

Taylor gave Tattletale a concerned glance before nodding. "Grue is closest. Should be closest. Not sure about a safe route."

Tattletale forced her eyes open and took a breath. "I can probably spot most of the bombs and find us a safe..." She cut herself off as I shifted my omni-tool's display to a map of the area, highlighting detected power sources picked up by the scanning suite.

I swear the girl was actually drooling.

"Look's manageable. Ready to go?"

With what seemed like a colossal effort she dragged her eyes away from the device on my forearm. "Uh, yeah." There was a pause as she looked at the door and suppressed a flinch at the sound of a distant explosion. She took a deep breath and steadied herself. "I'm ready. Let's go."

I took point as we moved out of the locker and started picking our way towards the next member of the Undersiders. Given the state we found Tattletale in I was dreading what was waiting for us. My nanites could fix anything that wasn't based on a complete disregard of conventional physics, but there was a difference between fixing something and making it better.

Despite her efforts to hide it I could see that Tattletale was struggling. She would freeze up for a fraction of a second every time the sound of one of Bakuda's bombs echoed across the facility. The first time I spotted a bomb she didn't move or take a breath until I confirmed it was disabled. I could see the amount of effort she was putting into presenting the image of someone who was unaffected by this mess, especially to Taylor, but I had some concerns for how long she could hold it up.

She also seemed to be exerting nearly as much effort to keep from tearing into me about my technology. After the second time I disabled a bomb she was giving my omni-tool a look that was nearly predatory in its intensity. When one of my drones briefly appeared over the rooftops Tattletale physically bit her tongue and seemed to swallow a rant of questions. I couldn't tell if Taylor was amused or concerned by the thinker's reactions, but it was better than dwelling on the events of the night.

As we worked through the facility the Celestial Forge connected to a small mote from the Knowledge constellation. It was just called Engineering and provided yet another increase to my mechanical skills. This power did have a focus on robotics and other technological devices rather than mundane applications. It also had another aspect that none of my other powers had specifically focused on. This power provided actual hacking skills.

Really, I was already an effective hacker. My computer knowledge was extraordinary, particularly after Master Builder and its related powers. Military engineers ran ECM on a level that put most conventional hacking to shame, and enough of my other powers provided some level of computer knowledge that included some understanding of how to exploit systems. However, it was always a side application, never a direct effect of the power. This was the first time I had gotten an ability specifically dedicated to subverting other systems.

Also, unlike the arrays of powers I'd been receiving there was a chance that this could make a difference in the current situation. I pulled up Survey's analysis of Bakuda's deadman's signal. It was still monstrously complex, but I could pick apart some of the surface layers more effectively. Depressingly that only served to reveal the nightmarish mesh of exotic effects and contingencies that lay beneath it.

It also seemed to be the thing that finally broke through Tattletale's resolve. "What's that?"

The girl was hovering near my omni-tool display. I pulled up a summary of the parts of the signal I'd been able to decipher. "Bakuda's deadman's signal. If I can crack it we can end this madness in one sweep."

Tattletale looked over the readouts and flinched at the complexity. While she was focused on my display Taylor turned towards me.

"You mean kill her?"

I glanced between them before answering. "If it will end this and stop things from getting worse, then yes, I would."

I was leaning into my military mindset for the assurance again, which let me make the statement with confidence. Tattletale glanced up from the display and quirked an eyebrow while Taylor looked conflicted. The thinker broke in before she could say anything.

"What she's done here pretty much guarantees a kill order. Of course, until that order's approved it's still murder." She gave me a hard look, but there wasn't any malice or disapproval in it. "Probably could be plead down to self-defense, but the courts are prickly about that when parahumans are involved."

"Why wouldn't they issue a kill order? I mean, this is just..." Taylor struggled to find the words before just gesturing at our surroundings.

"Kill orders bring out the crazies. You can have a dozen warrants on you and still walk into a PRT headquarters to collect on a kill order, and they have to let you walk out again. People have made arguments that the collateral damage from issuing a kill order is worse than the cape they're designed to put down. It's why you only see them for serious threats rather than every villain thug with three strikes to his name." Once more acting as the dispenser of wisdom seemed to help Lisa center herself.

"So the Protectorate is still going to come after the person who puts her down? Even after all of this?"

Tattletale made a nebulous gesture. "Odds are they'll come up with some excuse for not pursuing the case. Likely keep it in reserve if they need leverage later, but pretend nothing happened, that the problem just sorted itself out."

Taylor looked particularly unhappy about hearing that detail. I wasn't sure what the context was there.

Tattletale looked back at my display and shook her head. "She's really gone the extra mile here. There's stuff embedded in the code that was randomly determined, and properly random, not one of those crackable patterns. It's designed to block attempts to decipher based on her behavior."

I nodded. "I'm pretty sure she's using more exotic effects than radio communication, though she could be piggybacking on other signals to prevent premature detonation based on interference." I sighed. "I don't think I'm going to be breaking this tonight."

There was a complicated glance shared between Taylor and Tattletale that I couldn't decipher. I put it out of my mind and pushed on.

"What about her control system? How's she detonating the bombs?"

Taylor tensed and glanced away. "She said it's mental control. That she can trigger the bombs just by thinking."

I let out a dry laugh, which drew a sharp look from the girl. "I doubt it."

"What do you mean?"

"My neural interface is the size of a refrigerator. I seriously doubt Bakuda's managed to shrink one down to the point that it can fit in her mask. Implants are even less likely. That's specialized work and hard to do on yourself. If she could pull it off we'd be seeing an entirely different class of bombs out here."

"He's right." Tattletale was giving me another serious look. "No external hardware and too much of a control freak to mess with her brain directly."

"Could be a souped up EEG, though getting that calibrated for someone like her would be a trial." I noticed her expression. "Unless you know what she's doing and are waiting for an opportunity to show how smart you are?"

I put a sarcastic edge to my voice, but Tattletale smiled her fox-like grin, the first time I'd seen that expression since we pulled her from the locker.

"Toe rings."

"Toe rings?" Taylor asked

I sighed. "Toe rings."

"Target system in the goggles and she crosses the rings to select what to detonate. All for the sake of appearances. It makes her look like she got complete control." She was making and effort at her usual smug posture but there was a brittle edge to it I hadn't seen before.

"Well, that's..." I struggled for the right word. "Disappointing."

"What?"

"I mean, compared to the deadman's signal it's practically caveman tech. You could build that without being a tinker." I shook my head. "Still, not easy to knock out. I can't risk an Overload with the pacemaker system there. Best bet is to find some way of incapacitating her without giving her a chance to react, because I bet she's petty enough to have some kind of shaped charge or personal explosive on her body."

"Oh, she definitely is. Too much pride. She'll take a mutual loss over letting someone beat her."

The chance to flex her thinker muscles seemed to have improved Tattletale's mental state. By the time we reached Grue's location she was a lot more composed. I'm not sure how much of that was just show, but even being able to put up a front was a sign of improvement.

Unlike when we found Tattletale this locker wasn't excessively trapped. In fact, it looked something like a staging ground. It seemed Bakuda had dealt with Tattletale where she had found her, but Grue had probably been brought to this location. That didn't bode well.

I dropped into a lower stance as I approached the door and signaled for Taylor and Tattletale to hold position. They picked up on my intention, though Tattletale gave me a concerned look. Slowly I approached the door and performed a final scan. This close I could hear breathing from inside, labored but in a different way from how Tattletale's had sounded. With a final breath I steeled myself and pushed into the room.

This was one of the larger lockers and had clearly been a headquarters for the early part of the arena. There were still bits of equipment, duffle bags, and scattered personal effects around the room. In the center was a large table that had probably been used for planning.

That was not what it was being used for anymore.

I was grateful for Grue's powers. They did an excellent job of obscuring the details of the twisted shadowy mess on display. There were still ill fitting parts of his costume spread out across the form, but everywhere flesh would have been visible was instead sheathed in darkness.

"Impressive, isn't it?"

My pistol was in my hand and pointed at the source of the metallic voice within a single heartbeat. It was emanating from a camera setup in the corner, one of two within the room. They were more advanced than standard models, so probably part of Uber and Leet's broadcast kit.

"It's certainly striking." There was a sound from Grue that I tried not to think about, possibly a groan or an attempt to speak with deformed vocal chords.

"I think you mean ground breaking. I emulated Vista's power with a reversed Manton effect. Only living flesh gets warped, everything else stays the same. And you live through the whole process, feeling every moment." She broke into a manic laugh over the speakers. I holstered my pistol after checking my omni-tool for other threats.

"So it's nothing but pointless cruelty?"

"Cruelty is the point. It's about power and fear. The entire world saw what I accomplished here. Who's going to stand against me in the face of that?"

I faced towards the camera and opened my arms, earning a metallic scoff from the device.

"And what has that got you? You saw what happened to that mouthy bitch. Bet you didn't expect that? Thought you could just swing in here and save everyone? How's that working out for you? You've got one out of three intact, and not likely to stay that way for long."

She didn't know I'd healed Tattletale. I hoped to God for once that girl would have the sense to keep her mouth shut. We didn't need to give up one of our few advantages just so she could show somebody up.

There was also the hint of something bad coming, and I had a guess on what it could be. A glance at my omni-tool showed what she was planning. I started keying commands to Survey through the haptic interface as I kept talking.

"What can I say? I keep my commitments, and unlike some people I don't make deals with damaged merchandise."

"I can guarantee you'll regret not taking that deal before the night is..." There was a pause and I turned to see Taylor in the doorway, standing stock still as her swarm buzzed around her. "Whatever. Bug girl gets a brief reunion with her team leader, and the two of you can continue your little tour of what's waiting for you at the end of this."

"I wouldn't count on it. Lovely conversation, but I think I'll have to cut this short."

Before she could finish the first metallic word of her reply I activated my omni-tool and fried both cameras. Survey still hadn't tracked the broadcast. Leet's streaming encryption went back to the early days of the pair when they were putting out top tier tech on a regular basis. It wasn't on the level of the deadman's signal, but there was a reason it hadn't blown their operation in years and years of heists. Just confirming the presence of a transmission was a challenge.

Tattletale followed Taylor into the room and looked from the burnt out cameras to the shadowy form on the table.

"Can you..." She swallowed, then pushed on. "I mean, I know you can probably, but will you be able to..."

"Yes, I can totally add this to your bill." The thinker glared at me. "Bigger problem though. Bakuda's got mortars in the courtyard. We're in for a bombardment."

Taylor shifted focus. "I'm guessing those are the tube things they're setting up now?"

I nodded. "Can you do anything about them?" She'd made some impressive claims about her range and control, but I wasn't sure if she could handle this.

"Not with the bugs I have out there." She looked apprehensively at the alchemical insects she'd been keeping in a close orbit. In the time since I conjured them they had slowed down and gotten somehow less distinct, but still had something of a dangerous edge to them. With a breath Taylor sent them flying out the door. "Can you make any more of those?"

Tattletale was looking at me very intently.

"Not with what I have prepared. I'd have to break down and rebuild some formulas, and we don't have time for that." I pulled up my omni-tool display as I approached the table. "My drones should be able to intercept anything that's launched, but I'd rather not push our luck."

Tattletale clustered near my display as I laid a gloved hand on an overly thin and spindly limb. The Celestial Forge missed a connection to the Quality constellation as I focused on my nanites. The spread of glowing circuitry lines across Grue's body briefly banished the field of darkness. The effect provided a nauseating outline of the extent of Bakuda's damage. The cloud quickly settled back, obscuring the warped form from sight but not from my awareness. Like when I had treated Tattletale I received a highly detailed picture of the extent of the damage.

Brian's body had been warped and stretched. This might have initially been due to spatial effects, but once that passed the cells had settled in their new configuration. Parts had been stretched, folded, bent, or just horribly distorted. I tried to put it out of my mind as I focused on the work of restoring him to a human form, but the very nature of the process prevented that. I was acutely aware of every distortion, every warped bone and altered blood vessel. The morbid tapestry was spread before me as I worked.

I tried to split focus with my omni-tool in an attempt to coordinate our defense, but it was a token effort at best. The healing just required too much of my attention. I was limited to nothing more than an observation of the situation.

From my drone's perspective I could see nearly a dozen mortars set up in the courtyard. Some seemed to have been pulled from the remains of the jeeps while others had been brought in with the new equipment. Bakuda was barking targeting instructions at the operators, who were clearly struggling with the unfamiliar equipment. I didn't doubt that she would be able to target them with pinpoint precision, but you couldn't just grab someone from a random office job, hand them a mortar, and expect them to know how to use it.

Taylor elected to wait until the last moment before striking. The remaining manifestations of my Sting formula flew down on the gunners in a single cloud. There were barely more insects than mortars and they were reaching the end of their useful existence. Sting was a direct damage formula, never intended to hang around for this long. It was also a mid-range formula. Even if I had direct line of site I doubted I would be able to target the effect across this kind of distance. This was pushing the formula to its limit and I didn't know how it would impact the effectiveness of the conjured creatures.

The primary result seemed to be a substantial drop in damage output. Insect stings that had been able to blow through the head of a creature of animated concrete when freshly summoned were barely able to dent the launching equipment. Still, the disorder sowed from the coordinated strike bought us more time than I could have hoped for. I focused on pulling Brian's body back into sane proportions as I watched the aftermath or Taylor's attack on my display.

When handling Bakuda-level ordinance it didn't take much to send people into a panic. The sparking impact of the alchemical insects sent the gunners and most of the conscripts diving for cover. It looked like maybe a third of the mortars had taken enough damage to somewhat impede their operation, usually from strikes to the barrel or firing assembly.

One mortar began to spark, causing its panicked operator to hurl it into the crater my motoroid had created. For a moment it seemed like a false alarm, then there was a blast of wind immediately followed by a trio of tornados trying to aggressively drill into the center of the crater.

That could have been bad enough, but in shock one of the operators accidently discharged his mortar, sending a shell arcing directly towards Bakuda.

Everyone in the courtyard froze stock still, even in the dust choked wind of the constrained tornados. Thankfully it seemed Bakuda had designed some kind of identify friend or foe system for her bombs, stopping them from detonating on top of her. Thus miraculously, the misfire did not result in a karmically appropriate death for Bakuda followed immediately by a tragic death for everyone else. The only tragic death was the poor operator responsible for the misfire.

Bakuda seemed to be yelling something I couldn't make out, and then the unfortunate gunner began to scream. There wasn't a dramatic explosion, he just kind of fell to pieces. It was like a dozen invisible blades had swept through where he was standing. All that was left was a gruesome pile, including the scrapped remains of the mortar he was holding.

The tornados finally faded, leaving only a haze of dust hanging in the air. Bakuda started yelling orders, or gesturing like she was yelling orders since I didn't have the audio to confirm it. She also pointed directly towards the video feed of my drone and suddenly the view got a lot less stable on account of all the dodging of rockets.

I doubled my focus in an attempt to speed up Brian's healing. It didn't actually make a difference, but things were getting down to the wire. At least he had reached the point where he could be mistaken for human rather than a creation from a John Carpenter film. If it came down to it he could probably be safely moved without snapping like a twig in three places.

The last few moments of healing seemed to take forever and weren't helped by Brian trying to flail as soon as he had the capacity to do so. I needed to call over Taylor and Tattletale to hold him down and keep him calm while I finished repairing the last of the damage.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Brian sat up on the table, whole and under his own power.

He then promptly bent over the side and vomited on Tattletale's shoes.

Taylor lurched to support his weight as Tattletale jumped back on reflex. "He alright?"

"Physically he's fully back to normal. Mentally? There's no brain damage, but some disorientation can probably be expected." I checked a notification from my omni-tool. "But we need to go."

"Is it safe to move him?" Taylor tried to help him off the table.

"Doesn't matter. Bakuda just picked off one of my drones." There was another beep. "Two of my drones. She using larger ordinance. Detonating it when they try to pick it out of the air. The blast is large enough to take out the drone. We have three more intercepts before bombs start raining on us." I checked my omni-tool again. "Make that two more intercepts."

Brian was not an easy person to move. We were roughly the same height but he was built like a body builder where I had what could generously be called a 'runner's build'. Even the boosts from my accelerated life fiber training only upgraded the task to 'arduous' from 'downright impossible'. Taylor and Tattletale couldn't provide more than token assistance so mostly made a point of grabbing the salvageable pieces of Grue's costume.

Fortunately his faculties seemed to be returning fairly quickly and moving him rapidly transitioned from 'sack of potatoes' to 'drunken roommate who can't be trusted to make his way back to the dorm'. Even that eventually transitioned to 'friend with twisted ankle' and then basically a token oversight to make sure he was steady enough to walk under his own power.

We made it out with little time to spare. Bakuda had managed to impose enough order to send a barrage of shots flying but, in a move by Survey that I was particularly proud of, the last two drones sacrificed themselves in a manner that caught all the launched shells in the blast radius. It was a truly impressive show of coordination and foresight.

Unfortunately it meant the follow-up barrage was totally unimpeded. By that point we had put enough distance between us and the staging room that it was little more than a light show, though some of those effects were things I wasn't comfortable being three rows of lockers away from. Honestly the worst of them I wouldn't to want share an area code with.

Rather than spread out the shots over the area in case she had missed us Bakuda seemed content to excessively pummel the same cluster of lockers beyond all rational sense. The reference to 'rational sense' was probably what explained her actions. At least it kept her occupied while we led a gradually more coherent Brian away from the blast site. Eventually we found a quiet corner where we could prop him up and watch the fireworks.

Taylor went to check on him and I pulled up the scanning data on my omni-tool, once again with Tattletale floating nearby and watching the output eagerly. Brian was able to stand on his own, but was maintaining that cloud of darkness across his skin.

"Are you..." Taylor turned towards me. "Is he alright? Under that?"

"...mm fine." Came an echoy slur.

Taylor watched as the shadows slowly dissipated revealing a fully intact Brian. Physically intact. His expression looked like what would happen if someone with a thousand yard stare was hit by a bout of severe nausea. Still, I could see the effort he was exerting to pull himself together. After a few moments he had a somewhat brittle smile and slightly more confident stance.

"Thank god." Taylor's voice was barely a whisper and she seemed unsure of what to do with herself.

Brian put on a brave front and turned to face me. "Thanks for coming for us. We really owe you for this."

"Oh, you have no idea." I grinned at Tattletale who seemed reluctant to meet my eyes.

Brian glanced between us. "What?"

I smiled and left Tattletale to explain while I started sorting reagents. If I'd known what I was getting into or been aware of Taylor's synergy with the Sting formula I would have come better prepared. Instead I would have to break apart reagents sets to try to cobble together more useable formulas.

"Uh, this isn't a goodwill rescue. I kind of hired him."

Brian's eyes widened and it looked like a fresh batch of nausea was hitting him. "How?"

I wasn't sure who he was addressing, so I decided to jump in. "Remember that medical coverage deal I told you about? She decided to call it in, reported injuries and all that."

The only reason I had Sting prepared was a completionist desire to have everything on hand, just in case. While I only had one set of reagents prepared there were other formulas I probably wouldn't need that I could raid for components.

Brian looked around at the shattered facility, the assorted destruction, and the still raining mortars a short distance away. "This counts as medical coverage?"

I smiled. "It does if you include house call and hazard pay charges."

Taking apart my prepared formulas for Acid Rain, Double Drain, and Regrowth would yield enough reagents for two more Sting formulas. I'd have enough left over for a Super Heal as well, one of the stronger healing formulas.

Brian swallowed. "When you said 'incredibly cheap medical coverage', how cheap are we talking?"

Lisa broke in before I could. "Market rate. Whatever the normal cost of the medical bills would be."

I finished sorting the reagents and packed them away. "That's right. No worse than you'd get from any hospital. Plus the cost to get the doctors out into a parahuman war zone." I smiled at them. "Don't worry, I'm running a tab. Now let's go and expand that crippling medical debt."

Brian seemed to be having trouble figuring out if he should be concerned or amused and Tattletale was unable to clarify things for him. As long as he wasn't dwelling on his experience with Bakuda then I was happy. Instead I turned to Taylor who had been sorting the salvaged parts of Grue's costume.

"Do you have a line on Regent or Bitch?"

She nodded and handed the helmet off to Brian. "Regent's closest. He's not doing well. Not like..." she glanced at Tattletale and Brian before deciding to refrain from mentioning recent events. "I don't have a good sense of what happened, but I can pick up stuff through my bugs. It smells burnt."

That was a grim thought. Horrible in an entirely different way and more concerningly something that could rapidly prove fatal. Bakuda may have wanted her victims alive during her little show, but I doubted she was that concerned with their long term survival.

The Alchemy constellation passed by without connection as I turned back to Brian and Tattletale, who seemed to be debating the price of experimental surgery and how serious I was being about hazard pay.

"Taylor's found Regent. We should move while Bakuda's still occupied with that." I gestured behind me at the sustained bombardment, which chose that exact moment to peter out to nothing. Well, nothing but a concerning column of smoke, crystal, exotic lights, and what looked like a crack in space with fire bleeding through it.

I glanced back, sighed, and then looked at the Undersiders. "Can I get a 'fuck this' on the current situation?"

"I'll second that." Tattletale replied in a monotone.

"Yeah, double for me." Brian pulled on his helmet and the salvaged pieces of costume, which seemed to steady him somewhat. He left black smoke bleeding through the tears and missing pieces, creating a seriously impressive image for someone wearing salvaged jeans and leather.

"I'll raise you to 'fuck this shit' with a side of 'screw that bitch sideways' thank you very much."

The other two Undersiders looked to Taylor with shock but no hint of disapproval.

Tattletale turned to me. "Is your robot..."

"Robot?"

"...going to be able to give us enough cover without your drones..."

"Drones?"

"...backing it up?"

I shook my head. "No, it's flight..."

"Flight? Excuse me?"

"...isn't that maneuverable. It was never more than a distraction, and they're too coordinated for that to work."

"So can your scanner..."

"What scanner?"

"...find us a path clear of the bombs?"

"You can detect the bombs?" Brian turned to Taylor. "Can someone please fill me in here?"

"Possibly, but I should get some more drones in the air."

"Again, what drones?"

"You can do that?"

"Sure." I raised my omni-tool and triggered the drone fabrication. Five glowing celestial spheres the size of beach balls appeared above me and launched themselves into the air. I pulled up my display showing a live feed of the action across the facility.

Brian was making vague confused gestures. Taylor just put a hand on his shoulder and guided him with the group as we moved towards Regent's location.

I may have been taking a little too much pleasure in keeping the Undersiders off balance, but it actually served a purpose beyond my own amusement. What they had gone through was nightmarish. I had no doubt it was going to catch up to them in a bad way later on. My main goal was to keep that 'later on' as later as possible. A breakdown in this environment would be lethal. I would rather have them calling bullshit on my abilities than dwelling on what had happened to them.

There was less distance to cover on the path to Regent, but the situation was becoming more complex. Small teams of ABB had started picking their way through the rows, still mostly confined to the area around the courtyard but slowly working their way outward. I wasn't worried about the conscripts with their light caliber handguns and improvised weapons, but every squad had a professional member carrying either a rocket launcher or set of grenades.

There were also the mortars to contend with. Bakuda was maintaining an iron grip on the teams operating them and I had little doubt that the first sighting of us would be followed by a shower of shells. I knew it would come regardless of how many of her own people would be caught in the blast. It put stealth as a higher priority than I would have preferred.

My only hope was that Bakuda was still confirming the kill rather than taking offensive action. Otherwise she could just set to bombard the locations of the last two Undersiders. Then again, she clearly wanted to rub in the consequences of crossing the ABB, so would possibly hold off until after the shock value of finding another injured Undersider.

I turned to Tattletale as we worked through the rows.

"Any idea on Bakuda's next move?"

There was a slight flinch at the bomb tinker's name, but she pushed through and forced an answer. "She's running on pride. You pretty much stole her big moment out from under her. In her mind that's probably the worst thing that could have happened. She doesn't just want to win, she has to prove herself."

"Prove to who?"

The girl shrugged. "To the ABB? To the Protectorate? To the cape community in general? To the people watching at home? To us? To you? To herself?" She took a breath. "Bakuda has her wires crossed. This manic stuff, it isn't an act. She's running hot and it makes her hard to predict."

"Like the new ABB thinker?"

She shook her head. "This is just an excess of variables, not some active effect. I can't get anything on the new thinker."

I nodded. "Me either."

She clenched her teeth. "I was afraid of that. At least Bakuda doesn't seem to be using her guidance anymore."

"In the courtyard one of the gang members mentioned something about the timing they'd been given being shot. Any idea what that means?"

She considered. "Maybe? I'll have to look into it. Assuming we get out of here."

Taylor moved forward from where she'd been walking with Grue. "We're getting close. Can we make it without tipping anyone off?"

I checked the display again. Tattletale had been glued to my side watching every readout and video feed. I'd seen children in a toy aisle at Christmas who were more subtle about their longing. I pulled up the local section of the map with Tattletale watching every twitch of my haptic interface.

"No way to avoid this bomb, and I don't want to risk spoofing the trigger. No telling what the detection mechanism is from here." I indicated another section of lockers. "If we slip over the roofs here we should be able to bypass it without triggering anything. Can you handle the climb?"

Tattletale shook her head glumly. "My shoulder..." She trailed off, then shot a hand up to her shoulder. "My shoulder is fine!"

"Uh, congratulations?"

"No, I mean, Glory Girl dislocated it. It was a mess. I've been on painkillers since Thursday."

"Well, that's a... shame?"

"You fixed my shoulder!" She exclaimed.

I was starting to have my doubts regarding my passenger's regard for the strength of Tattletale's thinker ability.

"Yesss....?" I left the word hanging.

"Oh. Uh, thanks for that? For fixing my shoulder?"

"You're welcome?" It was weird. I'm guessing being saved from horrific merger with a storage locker was a lot more abstract than fixing the damage of a dislocated shoulder. Small things were more personal than giant nightmare problems.

"My stitches too." Taylor was running a hand over a portion of her arm. "Thanks for that."

I just nodded awkwardly and the focus kind of shifted to Brian by default. "I'm just going to go with a blanket thank you until we get out of this and can figure out exactly how much we owe you."

I nodded and we pressed forward towards the hopefully-not-dying Regent. I mounted the roof first, checked that it was clear, and then signaled for the rest to follow me. Once again Tattletale was giving me a strange look as I helped her over the row of lockers, but didn't pursue it any further.

Brian took point with me as we approached the locker that Taylor and Tattletale assured us contained Alec. I had been smelling smoke from the moment we entered the row. It was accompanied by the concerning stink of other incendiary chemicals. Unlike the previous lockers there was no presentation and no booby-traps. The door wasn't even fully closed.

I pried up the shutter, casting light on the collapsed form of Alec. All I'm going to say on the matter of his condition is 'badly burned'. I can say that any hint of guilt over my use of fire on Uber and Bakuda was completely out the window. If anything those attacks had been two degrees too mild.

I was leaning very heavily on my military engineer mindset to push through this. It was different from the carnival horrors unleashed on Brian and Tattletale. This was just a set of awful and clearly hideously painful injuries. As a veteran I knew how to handle it. As a civilian I would probably be as paralyzed by the sight as Brian.

I guess that's another quarter for the jar. Why does it feel like I'm selling my soul two bits at a time?

"Watch the door. I'll deal with this." Brian responded to my tone more than anything and turned, ostensibly to keep watch but mostly he was specifically positioning himself to block Taylor's view inside the locker.

She wasn't keen to peer around him.

I rested a hand on unburnt flesh, eliciting a flinch despite my best efforts. Really, I just wanted to throw a healing formula at him, but since that didn't address scarring it was not an option. I focused and nanites flowed into Alec's body, casting the locker interior in a pale blue light.

Compared to Tattletale and Brian this wasn't a difficult healing. There was some flesh that needed to be rebuilt, but even the deepest burns didn't go far below the skin. There wasn't even that much to repair. It was limited to a portion on one side of his body. It was just that the injuries were horrible and I got an inside look as they were rolled back. Every monstrous aspect of them, all played in reverse to an incredible level of detail.

When I was done Regent was sitting with his back to the cinderblock wall of the locker staring off into space. A large portion of his shirt was missing along with one pant leg and part of his mask. I would have preferred to get him out of the room, but Tattletale advised against it and I was willing to trust her judgement on this. The rest of the group had clustered in, seemingly at as much of a loss for how to handle this as I was.

I was about ready to try something, anything, when he finally spoke.

"We're going to kill her."

"What?" Brian was the first to interject.

"Bakuda. We're going to kill her."

"Eventually." The eyes of the group shifted to me, though with no real opposition to the statement. Even Taylor only looked briefly conflicted before nodding.

"Eventually?" Alec's voice was deeply sarcastic. "Why not sooner?"

"Deadman's switch." Tattletale offered. "She goes down and she takes the conscripts and probably a good chunk of the city with her." He didn't look entirely opposed to the idea.

"Means we need to keep her heart beating. Everything else..." I made a dismissive gesture.

It was a horrific concept, but that seemed to be the theme of the night. I wasn't going to limit myself when it came to options that could end this nightmare a moment sooner.

Regent's lips quirked in a cruel smile. "I think I can get behind that." He climbed slowly to his feed and seemed to be really present for the first time since I healed him. He took in the room like he was seeing it for the first time. "Where's Bitch?"

"She's the next pickup." Brian seemed to be settling back into his leadership role, possibly out of habit, possibly as a welcome distraction from what had happened.

I pulled up my omni-tool map, drawing a whistle from Regent. Taylor pointed to a location near the back of the facility, not that far from us.

"Bitch is there. She doesn't seem to be that badly hurt, but she's pissed off. Really, really pissed off."

"Sounds like Bitch alright." I was a little concerned about how quickly Alec seemed to bounce back. Either he was unusually resilient or was very good at pretending he was. That introduced the concerning possibility of how much of his personality was actually an act.

I checked my omni-tool and the reports from Survey. "Mostly clear at the moment. If we hurry we can probably get there before this search closes any tighter." Once we were spotted or they figured out what we were doing we could expect rains of mortars and swarms of panicked conscripts. I accepted the likelihood of the night ending up there at some point, but I quite reasonably wanted to put it off as long as possible.

As we moved out I felt the Celestial Forge make a connection to a mid-sized note from the Vehicles constellation. It was another cluster, this one with four equally sized motes in it. The power was called Valuable Memories and was something of a conundrum. I could tell the first mote was about vehicles, the third mote was seriously about vehicles. The fourth motes was about something at least on the scale of vehicles. I connected to the second mote. Do you want to know what the second mote was about?

The nature of memories.

I had just received the technology and knowledge necessary for memory manipulation on a shocking scale. And I got it from the Vehicles constellation. I swear, the Celestial Forge makes less sense every day.

And this was serious memory tech. It was basically everything you could want. Download, upload, copy, edit, delete, the works. With the cloning technology I could already manage this kind of thing had some terrifying potential applications. And once again it was of no help to the current situation, which seemed to be a consistent theme. Life or death situation gets you all these wonderful powers, you just have to survive the mess to be able to use them.

"What's so funny?"

I turned to Regent and considered my answer. "Nothing. I just... remembered something." Tattletale seemed to twig to something being up, but didn't say anything. Regent just nodded along.

"So how'd you get roped into this mess?"

"Tattletale wanted to go into a staggering amount of debt. I decided to oblige her." The thinker gave me a sour look much to Alec's amusement. "Are you... You holding up alright?"

I wasn't sure how to press this issue, but the speed at which he turned from despondent to a facsimile of his old self was disturbing.

The boy just shrugged. "I'm managing. After they grabbed me things weren't too bad, at first. I was cornered by gas mask girl and her two thug-boys. All banter and lightheartedness to start." His tone lost a lot of its levity. "People like that are lots of fun until the exact moment they aren't. Decided they liked me enough not to try anything special, just the fire stuff." His fist clenched so hard it shook, then he forced himself to release it.

I considered something. "Career ABB? About a hair under six feet? One with a neck tattoo and the other with the side of his head shaved?"

He nodded. "I see you've met them."

"Yeah, I sort of set them on fire."

Alec perked up. "Seriously?"

"I'm sorry, when was this?"

I turned to Tattletale. "Back when the initial negotiations went to hell."

"Wasn't that risky?" Taylor called up from where she was following with Brian.

"Not really. It's a controlled enough effect that there was no chance it was lethal. Actually, hold on." I started working my omni-tool, pulling up records from my previous drone. Once again Tattletale watched every motion and output of the device like a hawk, but this time she was joined by the rest of the Undersiders. A video feed began to play showing the sparks of my Flash formula wheeling towards Bakuda and her lackeys, including the failed dodge attempt, and the burning impact of the formula across them.

Regent burst into laughter while the rest for the Undersiders were amused but more restrained.

"Wow. No wonder she's pissed."

"Grue, she was already pissed. This is karma." Alec suddenly stood bolt upright. "Holy shit. I need to start going to church."

"What?" The word was echoed by most of those present. Alec just gestured at the screen.

"A prayer gets answered that quickly and specifically then you can't not take it as a sign." He turned to Brian. "Grue you must know a good church. Hook me up."

"I really hope that's not a race thing."

"Oh, maybe I'll join the choir. Won't that be fun?"

"Regent." Tattletale spoke slowly. "When's the last time you were up before noon on a Sunday? How often do you get up before noon in general, barring mission obligations?"

Clearly a man of sophistication and taste.

"Don't disparage my faith!"

A signal from my omni-tool chirped and I pulled up the grim report. "We're going to have to move."

"What's wrong?"

I angled my omni-tool towards Brian, much to Tattletale's annoyance. "Looks like a full mobilization. They're emptying the courtyard." The screen showed squads of ABB working their way through the maze of lockers.

"Are they coming this way?"

"Some of them, but look." I pointed out the approximate directions of some of the farther squads headed towards where we found Tattletale and some more towards Alec's former locker. "Looks like they're checking up on where you are supposed to be. They confirm you as missing..."

"Then they might start dropping mortars on Bitch on principle." He looked between me and Taylor. "I was pretty out of it, but you had something that held them off before, right?"

"The formula?" Taylor asked.

"Two sets salvaged from other reagents. Though from this range... Well, I'm not sure if it'll do more than annoy them. The drones can buy us some time, but not that much."

Grue nodded. "Can we make it?"

I pulled up another map. "We'll have to jump two... no three roofs, but we should be able to get there while avoiding the bombs with enough time to spare."

Alec leaned in and looked at the screen. "I think I might love that thing half as much as Tattletale, and that's only because my feelings don't extend to the biblical sense." The thinker abruptly pulled back at the comment, but looked conflicted about it. "So three roofs. No problem." He turned to Brian. "And you said that my parkour hobby was a waste of time."

"It was a waste of time because you never did anything." Brian answered as the group began to move at double time. "Filming yourself jumping down a flight of stairs is not parkour."

The banter dropped off, though with a focus on covering the distance rather than dwelling on the situation. I had a feeling Tattletale was aware of how I was trying to manage group morale and at least supported it on a surface level. Distractions, confusion, or banter were all better than sudden breakdowns or collapsing into despair. The problems weren't solved, I could clearly see that, but everyone seemed to have at least reached a functional place.

We managed to cross the roofs with varying levels of grace. Alec had very clearly not done parkour to any measurable degree. Meanwhile climbing an obstacle of this height was trivial with my new experiences and mild physical enhancements. It was clear that Tattletale was noticing something about that, but she hadn't said anything yet. Assuming we got out of this in one piece I was probably in for another conversation.

At least this time I'd have some leverage.

As we moved the Celestial Forge made another connection to the Crafting constellation. This was a smaller mote called Fingers of the North Star. In addition to increasing my mechanical talents the power was specialized for projectile weapons. It would let me disassemble, analyze, and reassemble absolutely any projectile weapon I encountered as well as easily upgrade existing weapons. It also helped me design new and unique weapons based on more esoteric technologies.

I wasn't exactly short on esoteric technologies.

It was another upgrade, design and refinement power. Once I got out of here I would need to completely rework pretty much my entire kit. That task was overdue anyway. I had been too focused on big idea projects rather than building up the equipment that would let me properly function in the field. Things had been holding together, but they were slapdash and relied too much on luck for my tastes.


Taylor led us to Bitch's location. Rather than another locker of varying size it was a service room on the edge of the facility. I could hear grunts and profanity coming from inside. Once again I took point with Brian backing me up. I quickly picked the lock, something I could literally do one-handed without looking at this point, and we burst into the room.

I had been preparing myself for the worst. Never in my life have I been so happy to only find a tied up and beaten teenage girl. It really says something about my night when that was the high point. My relief was not shared by Rachel.

"What do you want you motherfucker? Back for more? Well fuck you!"

Her reaction briefly confused me until I realized she had only seen me in costume once before, for a brief period, and about three design revisions ago.

"It's okay," I checked the room for threats, then raised my hands in a nonthreatening gesture. "I'm here to help."

"What the fuck... Grue?"

I let Brian move into the room to help Rachel out of her bindings. I followed after so as not to spook her any further. She had taken a bad beating, but compared to the horrors of the other Undersiders it was easy to fix and easy to stomach.

As soon as Brian had untied her Rachel franticly rushed to a corner of the room. When I saw what she was panicking over I immediately reevaluated my assessment of this being the least horrible rescue of the night.

"Well... shit." Regent's voice came from the door.

"Angelica." Brian's voice was a whisper as he spotted the dog. "Can't you..." He turned towards Tattletale. "Can't she heal her dogs?"

The blond girl shook her head. "They have to be conscious. Otherwise the power doesn't connect."

"Hey, don't worry." Alec loudly clapped me on the shoulder, then winced and shook some feeling back into his hand. "Tattletale called in some medical help. New guy can handle this."

Rachel looked up from the barely breathing terrier she was cradling. I glanced at Alec before approaching. "It's Apeiron, actually."

"Right. Well, A Pie Run will help you out. Apparently we're all in medical debt now. Might as well join us."

I crouched down to Rachel and, with some conflict, she raised the dog towards me. It probably says something bad about my mentality, but seeing something like this happen to a dog affected me to a greater degree than all the casual violence I'd blown through tonight. Maybe it was because my military mindset wasn't helping with it. Maybe because it somehow seemed personal. Maybe I just liked dogs more than people, which I understood wasn't that uncommon of a stance.

Anger warred with grief and desperation on Rachel's face. "Please. Whatever it costs. Save her."

I smiled under my mask and reached out to rest a hand on the terrier's fur. "Please. That deal was for the Undersiders. Your dogs can pay their own medical bills."

Rachel gaped at me, but it kept her from reacting as the blue circuitry lines spread across the animal's fur.

"You, what, expect Angelica to pay you?" The confusion was clear in her voice.

"Oh, no. Everyone knows dogs are horrible with money. I fully expect she'll welch on the bill." I focused as the nanites rebuilt damaged muscles and organs, mended broken bones, and fixed a hundred small wounds that I didn't even want to think about being inflicted. I grimaced and pushed on with false joviality. "Tragic really. It'll destroy her credit rating. She'll never be able to buy a house or a boat. Probably be reduced to offering back-alley belly rubs to get by."

"That's his cute way of saying he's not charging you." Tattletale clarified for Rachel as Angelica began to stir in her lap. Tension melted out of the big girl at the sight of it and she held the dog closer.

"Do you want me to fix the eye and ear as well?"

She gave me a confused look with a hard edge to it. "You think I want my dog hurt?"

"I think your dog has had one eye for a long time. I don't know how she'll react to suddenly getting that vision back. That's why I'm checking with you."

Rachel looked at me and slowly nodded. "Do it."

I focused and my nanites began rebuilding the missing and destroyed sections of the dog's body. The ear reformed in a sheath of blue light followed by a ruined eye socket slowly restoring itself. Across her body dozens of old scars vanished and were replaced by fresh fur. Even before the events of tonight it was clear this dog had endured a hard life.

I finished my healing and pulled my hand away. The terrier opened one eye, then the other. She blinked them out of sequence, tilting her head before realizing that action wasn't necessary anymore, then trying again out of habit. It was an adorable action from a dog I'd last seen trying to chew my wrist off.

I held a hand out to Rachel. "You're next."

"I'm fine." She said dismissively.

"The hell you are." Brian interjected, drawing her eyes away from the dog in her lap. She tried to look defiant, which wasn't helped by the fact that twisting to face him caused her to wince in pain. "Take the damn healing while you have the chance."

She glared at him for a moment, then nodded to me. Rachel was comparatively easy to heal. Roughly the same level as what I'd had to manage with Taylor. Contusions, scrapes, and a few small cuts. They told a nasty story, but not on the level I had to deal with from the rest of the Undersiders. When I finished Rachel climbed to her feet with a look of clear relief on her face.

"Alright," I turned to face the team of villains. "Now let's get out of here."

Instead of enthusiasm I was greeted by a row of blank faces. Brian was the first to speak.

"Excuse me?"

"Uh, time to leave?" I pulled up my omni-tool's map, earning a surprised glance from Rachel. I pointed to the various gaps in the outer wall, including one close to the maintenance room. "Get out while the getting's good?"

"Yeah, fuck that." Regent's voice was uncompromising. "Gas-mask-girl is going to pay."

"Not arguing with that," I made a placating gesture. "But a customized murder arena with half the ABB plus conscripts as back up isn't the place for it."

"Not an option." Brian stepped forward. "Bakuda picked us apart tonight and broadcast it for the world. Reputation is everything in this business. If we don't hit back here the Undersiders are finished as a team."

I wasn't really seeing the downside to that, but bringing up that perspective probably wouldn't help my case. Instead I looked across the team trying to find anyone who could see the sense of this.

One glance at Rachel was enough to inform me of her opinion. "They hurt my dog." She spoke with an iron conviction that brokered no disagreement. I could understand where she was coming from, but it wasn't the right time for this. Instead I looked to Taylor.

"We can't let this go on." She looked out into the facility and put a hand on the hilt of her knife. "We lose the chance to stop her here and there's no telling what could happen. When are we going to get another opportunity?"

"At any other time? In any other location? Preferably when I've had more than eight minutes to prepare? Hell, we could fall back and hit her when she tries to leave."

"Too risky." Tattletale spoke. "Not with Leet backing her up. Could be looking at cloaking, teleportation, phasing, or any number of tricks he was afraid to use before."

"Then we track her to her base and launch a proper strike. I'll do it myself if I have to."

"What if they've sprung Lung by then? You going to charge into a tinker's workshop when she's backed up by him, Oni Lee, and the mystery thinker? Oh, plus whatever Leet has on hand? Are you prepared for that?"

I wanted to say I could be, but there wasn't a guarantee, not with my passenger's silence on this new thinker. Plus, if I had to go in heavy there's a chance Bakuda could be caught in the cross fire, which would just turn things into a prolonged version of taking the kill shot here and now.

Tattletale seemed to pick up on my train of thought. "We wouldn't have been able to leave even if we wanted to. Angelica can't carry the entire team and there's no way we'd get away on foot."

I sighed. "I could have carried a couple of people on my motorcycle. That would have freed up enough for Bitch to manage the rest."

"Great idea." Regent quipped. "But where's the bike?"

I checked my Omni-tool. "Right now it's dodging a rocket barrage above the west side of the courtyard." Things weren't looking good. The ABB seemed to have seriously gotten their act together and there were still the mortars to worry about. At the very least we needed to get out of this room.

"Wait, wait, wait. You have a flying motorcycle?"

"Well, it doesn't fly in motorcycle mode." I switched over to the perspective of one of the drones and showed Regent the motoroid swooping down to buzz the courtyard, leaving a cloud of dust and a set of disoriented mortar crews in its wake.

His eyes lit up like Christmas morning.

I watched the crews fight through the dust to try to reorient the equipment in a distinctly this-way direction. Fuck. Either they had confirmed the other Undersiders were missing or they were going to bombard this place on principle. Either way we needed to move.

"Mortars are being aimed this way." The group tensed. There wasn't really a choice in this. If Taylor was here then I would be staying. It was an obligation I couldn't get away from. "I'll back you up on this."

Grue nodded. "We appreciate that."

"Hey, gotta protect my debtors, right?" Tattletale was less than pleased with that joke. "Conditions though."

"What are they?" Taylor asked as the group filed out of the room. I entered a redeployment command to my motoroid and drones as we moved.

"Keep things nonlethal, at least for the conscripts. I'm not going to make my debut as a cape with a dozen kids chewed up in the crossfire. This is probably still being broadcast, so keep things as contained as possible. We don't want another Aegislash." Regent's beamed at that while Taylor dropped her head at the reference. "Shouldn't need to say this, but don't kill Bakuda." That one was mostly aimed at Bitch, who looked indignant until Tattletale whispered an explanation to her. "Finally, we still bail if things go to hell. I'll take that raid on ABB headquarters over a last stand for the sake of your reputation."

"We can agree to that." Brian looked over the chaos of the storage facility as he spoke.

"No argument from me." Regent added. "Plus I want my stuff back."

"Same here." Bitch growled. Angela was starting to grow, sprouting spikes and bone plates as she walked.

"Likewise." Taylor nodded, drawing her weapons.

Tattletale grinned. "Looks like everyone's on board."

"Great." I checked the status of my motoroid and drones as the Celestial Forge missed a connection to the Size constellation. The mortars were back on target and the dust had cleared enough that they probably were ready to fire. We had sulked around long enough. Time to make our presence known. "Mind if I announce us?"

"Be my guest." Brian made a gesture towards the courtyard.

I smiled as I entered the commands. My motoroid pulled out of a low run and launched into the sky. The rising robot was clearly visible from our position. When it reached the peak of its ascent it flipped and powered its turbines to maximum.

Brian craned his neck upward. "What is it..."

"Everyone, away from the walls. Get near the center of the rows. Low stances. Watch out for debris." Tattletale shouted the warnings before I could give them. Taylor had already put the pieces together. Alec and Rachel may not have known, but they could see the panicked reactions from the ABB and their conscripts. Those included a few desperately launched and poorly aimed rockets attempting to stop the motoroid's descent

They knew what was coming. Trauma does have a wonderful way of making things stick in the mind.

I hadn't followed up on my opening attack, mostly because I didn't think this facility could take it. I didn't want to accidentally collapse it on top of Taylor or the other Undersiders. The most my motoroid had done was take a few light swipes with the tonfas during its flybys. Now it was setting for a proper follow up, a strike on par with the initial, earth shattering assault.

I watched my robot dive towards the courtyard with a smile on my face. It was time to go to war.

Jumpchain abilities this chapter:

Armourer (Light of Terra DLC 5 A Sky Filled With Steel - Warhammer 40,000) 300:
A mental database containing information on the most common types of armour found in the Necromunda Hive and how to build, repair and maintain them. While this doesn't sound impressive, it is worth pointing out there are countless billions of people dwelling within the hive, and they have been here for millenia - the list of things counted as common at one time or another ranges from Power Armour in the distant past to the more common hammered metal plates made by local Gangers to the standard Imperial Guard Carapace Armour. Don't expect to start churning out Adetus Astartes Power Armour the second you get this though - the infrastructure to build the infrastructure to build the infrastructure to build the armour was lost to ruin a long time ago. There's a reason the Space Marines use suits thousands of years old.

Engineering (Teen Titans) 100:
You're a master mechanic and an expert at building robots and other technological devices. You also have a fair bit of knowledge about hacking into computers.

Valuable Memories: the nature of memories (Big O) 300:
You have knowledge related to any particular concept-the construction of Megadei, the nature of memories, Bigs, or the creation of chimeras. Paradigm will have a vested interest in you, and will protect you and provide you with funds if you work for them.

Fingers of the North Star (Cave Story) 200:
You have a natural talent with machinery, and this extends to firearms creation. You can disassemble, analyze, and reassemble any projectile weapon you come across, and you have the ability to create unique, one of a kind guns that utilizes odd and esoteric technology. You also gain a free 'stamp' you can apply to any weapon you create, to show it's your work. Upgrading existing weapons is a breeze as well.
 
20 Offensive
20 Offensive

I can only imagine what must have been going through the minds of the gang members and conscripts that were scattered across the storage facility as my motoroid plummeted towards the ground. These weren't hardened criminals. Even among the gang members I doubted they'd seen a serious parahuman conflict more than once or twice. Now here they were, caught is a clash between capes with no way out.

The motoroid struck the courtyard for the second time that night, sending a pulse of force outwards. Materials like concrete and asphalt, steady reliable things that had no business acting anything like a liquid, rippled and surged outwards. The facility had been built out of cinderblock lockers assembled at minimum cost with only the loosest adherence to building codes. The only robustness that could be attributed to it was in the weight of its materials, not the resilience of its construction. That fact was plainly visible in the aftermath.

The second strike hadn't leveled the facility, not exactly. Still, the damage was catastrophic. Lockers that had just held on through the first blow were now piles of broken concrete and sheet metal. The shattering of the foundation in the first strike had proved a mitigating influence on the following blow. Without a solid medium to carry the tremor the effect had been blunted. Rather than reduce the entire facility to rubble there were still a few lockers standing at the edges, along with sections of the outer wall.

But the maze of rows that had so effectively pinned in the Undersiders was completely gone. That was the point of the strike. Well, part of the point. I had needed a demonstration. Needed a way to show that the first blow wasn't a one off, an outlier. It had been impressive, but without a follow up it would come across as a tinker Hail Mary, that I was breaking out some treasured one shot technology and expending weeks of effort on a single blow.

No one would think that now. I could plainly see it in the individuals climbing through the wreckage. That look of people who had the world pulled out from under them in an almost literal sense. Fortunately the facility had been nothing but single story lockers with sheet metal roofs. There was no second story or attic to collapse on someone. In fact, no one even had a reason to be inside at the moment of impact. It was a huge amount of devastation for a comparatively small amount of injuries.

But there were injuries none the less. That was something I had accepted coming into this. I didn't like it, but staying completely soft handed would have left me and everyone else at the complete mercy of Bakuda. I didn't have the strength or the resources to afford to take that kind of approach.

Well, I accepted the injuries due to my actions. The traveling shockwave had triggered more than a few of the planted bombs. Some of the bombs had been Bakuda's good work, bombs with advanced scanning and detection systems, able to pick out targets and detonate for maximum injury. However, plenty of them had been of the most primitive models. Mines on the level of Claymores, bombs connected to trip wires, bombs set to recognize movement. Pretty much every one of these that hadn't gone up in the first strike of my motoroid was detonating now.

Flares, blasts, and discharges of tinker tech explosives were going up all across the facility. Luckily the damage to the conscripts was proving to be minimal. The ABB gang members knew where they had been planted and the patrols had been giving them a wide berth. The question was whether that berth had been wide enough.

A group of middle aged office workers got flung like rag dolls away from one of the explosives, landing painfully in a scattered mess. Another group scrambled up a pile of rubble as a glowing blue liquid spread out from a device that pulsed like a dismembered heart. The liquid didn't seem to be reacting with anything it touched, but no one wanted to be the first to test its effect on the human body. Another bomb sent out a wave of flame, giving an older man in a set of coveralls just enough time to shield a pair of tiny white haired women who would have looked more comfortable in a bingo parlor than a battlefield. The man dropped to roll out the flames as his group struggled to help him while their gang member fought to maintain some level of authority.

In addition to the scattered detonations the main impact had thrown up a fresh column of dust into the air. Through the murk the staggering and disoriented forms of the ABB were visibly shaken. Some of them were clearly at their breaking point. These were normal people who had spent the entire evening learning the classic definition of shell shock, taught to them in great detail by both sides of the engagement.

The ABB forces were in complete disarray. What objectives they had been given when the teams had been sent out were completely forgotten. Half of the paths were just masses of rubble and the odds were very good that any locker they had been dispatched to was no longer standing. Additionally the huge deployment of directionless forces had left Bakuda severely underdefended in the courtyard.

From her frantic reaction to the chaos she was well aware of it. The tinker was scrambling to redeploy her forces, calling back patrols and yelling commands to the mortar and rocket teams that had held position. In all the chaos one fact seemed to be overlooked.

This time the motoroid hadn't left the crater.

In the smoke, dust, and fallout of still exploding bombs a person could be forgiven for overlooking a detail like that. That is, until an amplified voice echoed across the devastated storage facility.

"Disappointing."

Bakuda froze in place and that unnatural stillness rippled out from her position. Attention started shifting to the dust filled crater. The sounds of heavy steps and servo motors were echoing across the area. Slowly, like a phantom from the night, my motoroid emerged from the cloud of pulverized concrete.

Before she could respond my transmitted voice blasted out again. "I've finished my 'little tour' and I have to say, I'm not impressed." I could see Bakuda bristle at that. "Not at what you 'accomplished', and not at the condition of what you were willing to bargain with."

"Big talk." The tinker was clearly stressing her own voice modulator to its maximum output in an attempt to match my motoroid. It resulted in the normally monotone voice coming off screechy. "Big fucking talk. Think you can cover with that. I know that you're scared. You've seen what's waiting for you."

"Scared? Of that?" The motoroid leaned forward in a very human way. "Juvenile efforts. Sloppy execution of concept. Overly showy tantrums without substance. Is that the best you have? Is that supposed to impress me?"

Bakuda grabbed her grenade launcher in a fit of almost frenetic rage. "Fuck you. Neolithic simpleton who can't see the greatness of something when it's plain as day." Rather than fire she gestured at her surroundings. "I own this city. Me. My genius, my art brought it to its knees. Decades of stalemate broken in a single strike. It doesn't matter what you think. This is my victory."

"Yes, THAT was impressive. But tell me, is the victory yours?" The motoroid brought a hand to its chin in a gesture that almost looked natural. Would need to work on that. "...or is it hers?"

The tinker started shaking in a way that made those close to her start edging away. "That doesn't matter. It doesn't..."

The motoroid turned its head towards the sky. "Total blackout. From here to Maryland people will be really seeing the night sky for probably the first time in their lives. This will probably trump the Northeast blackout of 1965. It would require an insanely precise and coordinated attack to accomplish something on that scale. So tell me." The motoroid dropped its optics towards Bakuda. "Are people going to give credit to the one who made the stone, or the woman who killed the giant?"

"No. She doesn't matter. I did this. I broke this city. I freed Lung. I showed the world what happens when it challenges me." She lifted the grenade launcher on target. "Are you even in there, or are you buying time for your miserable life while you run off with that bug bitch?" Her pitched up speech was becoming more erratic, making it harder to understand as she ranted faster. "Hiding behind your toys, too afraid to show your face, to face me. What does that say, huh?"

"That I stand on my own. Beholden to none but those I choose, and blessed..." my five drones dipped low enough to enter Bakuda's field of view, causing her to mutter some half coherent commands to the conscripts around her. "With competent assistance when I require it."

"Yeah, well there's a problem with toys." Her minions hastily lined up their shots. "They're so easy to break."

Before the first rocket could launch a blast of small objects tore through the dust clouds at the edges of the courtyard. The operators barely had time to register the horrible buzzing before the alchemical insects ripped into their equipment, shattering barrels, triggers, and delicate portions of the weapons. At closer range with a fresher formula the effects were dramatically stronger. Rather than the odd dented barrel or broken trigger metal was torn and rent by the projected creatures as they expended their energy on a single attack.

After the wave had passed only two mortars and a handful of rockets appeared anywhere near functional. The rest either had fully split barrels or shattered delicate components. Taylor had clearly been trying to avoid the ammunition chambers, but these people were not explosive experts and desperately tried to put as much space between them and the damaged equipment as possible.

Bakuda's grenade launcher had taken a glancing strike, likely out of fear of accidentally detonating its ammunition. The tinker had shaken off the impact and was taking in the scattering of her forces with pure fury. With a scream of frustration she bypassed the damaged part and launched a volley of grenades at the stationary motoroid.

In rapid succession three sharp cracks echoed across the courtyard as glowing shots tore through the dust cloud, shattering the grenades. The wind-rune enhanced projectiles left a trail of vortex shockwaves behind them. The aftermath slowly cleared the dust from the air around a pile of rubble that had previously been a line of lockers. As the cloud peeled back the figures of Taylor and myself slowly came into view.

My pistol was drawn and held at the ready, though I was no longer in my firing stance. As the dust cleared enough for the people in the courtyard to make us out I activated my omni-tool, causing a nimbus of orange light to bloom in the dusty air. Taylor pulled the remaining insects from my Sting formula into orbit around her in a pair of rings at offset angles. The effect looked like a cross between hula hoops and an old model of an atom. It would possibly have been amusing if not for the immense damage wrought by the first wave she had sent out.

"Good. Now show off the robot. That always gets to her. She knows she can't build anything like that and she hates you for it."

I didn't show any reaction to Tattletale's voice as I keyed the commands to Fleet through my haptic interface. The motoroid spun up its turbines, then leapt into the air. As it launched it swung both tonfas into the lip of the crater, boosting its speed and sending an aftershock across the area that threatened the footing of the scrambling ABB. It twisted through the air with a precision that it never would have been able to manage at the start of the night before dropped into a three point stance in front of me and Taylor.

I had intended for it to drop into a defensive position, aimed towards the crowd, but it had landed facing us instead. Understandable as Fleet was still learning piloting and I hadn't been that precise with my commands. Of course, the result was the motoroid kneeling before the pair of us like an act of fealty. It seemed pretentious, but apparently Tattletale didn't see anything wrong with that.

"Ha, perfect! Can you do something with your drones as well? Oh, and follow up on that toy comment. She's been excessively precocious her entire life and hates it when people dismiss her as immature or childish."

The motoroid lifted a crackling tonfa into the air and the drones fell into a formation between us and Bakuda, ready to intercept anything coming our way. As it turned and raised both weapons towards the tinker my voice echoed from its sound system.

"Quick to break someone else's toys when they out shine you? Most children learn better than that at a young age."

I could see how much the taunt bothered her, but I wasn't deriving any enjoyment from it. I didn't like this kind of confrontation. I mean, after everything I'd seen tonight and everything I knew about Bakuda I was ready to drop some divine justice on her, but this didn't feel like justice. It felt petty.

We hadn't had long to plan after I launched my motoroid attack. Though granted, we did have more preparation time than if I had left things until the mortars started raining on us. Also the Undersiders were horribly underequipped, even by their standards. I could have fabricated something, but we were too pressed for time. Instead I took the disposable phones Taylor and I still had, slaved them to my omni-tool, and handed them out. That at least let us assemble a rough plan while we got into position.

I had also missed a connection to the quality constellation when we moved out.

"Children!" I'm not sure if Bakuda was actually screeching or if it was just her trying to match the volume of my amplification. "You're the infantile one. I'm changing the face of the city, of the world! What are you trying to accomplish beyond indulgence in some trite sappy sentimentality?"

"Oh, this is good." I had agreed to let Tattletale coordinate my interaction. It was our best chance of keeping Bakuda off balance long enough for the Undersiders to rally and prepare a counter strike. And I had to give the girl credit, when it came to a war of words she knew how to go for the throat. Bakuda was definitely off balance, even if I had to feel like scum to get her there. I think I would have been more comfortable putting a mass effect round through her head than continuing this farce.

"Now you need to take a dig at her love life." No I do not. "She never had a serious relationship, told herself it was because she was too good for anyone, but really she just couldn't make it work." Yeah, not touching that. Is she still broadcasting this on Uber and Leet's show? I still can't nail down their signal. "You should tie it into academics, especially high school. That's the root of the superiority complex and will hit her hardest. Hold on, I'll come up with something for you."

...you ever wonder if you're working for the right side? Like, I'm not saying the ABB was the good side in this equation, but I was kind of feeling trapped between a rock and an asshole.

Miraculously Brian saved me from having to recreate the dialogue of a teen soap opera with his most welcome interruption. "Regent in position. Circling around with Bitch, ready for our entrance."

I smiled at that and looked down at Bakuda. "I've accomplished more than you think."

There was a metallic scoff. "You made it through with your hide intact. I suppose that counts for something."

"More than just mine." I glanced at Taylor who took a defiant step forward.

"Whatever." She brought her grenade launcher towards us. "That's one for five, and it'll take a miracle for the two of you to get out of here alive."

"Not exactly." I made a gesture to cover the haptic inputs to my omni-tool and my drones rose to a more aggressive formation. The motoroid's turbines started spinning, putting out just enough thrust to make my coat and Taylor's hair dramatically dance in the wind. "You never asked what my contract was with the Undersiders. Shame, I expected better from you." I relented to Tattletale's prodding to make that final slight.

"What's that got to do with any..." Bakuda cut herself off as a howl echoed over the battlefield. Not the kind of howl you got from a dog, or even a wolf. This sound had teeth, it rumbled in your chest and seemed to crawl up through the souls of your feat. This was the kind of hunting cry that primitive man had learned to fear, and passed that lesson down in their very DNA.

Mostly because the people who didn't pass down that lesson didn't live long enough to pass down anything else.

The howl went on for longer than I would have thought possible. Gang members struggled to pick out the source from the echoes reflecting through the facility while the conscripts looked to have collectively taken one more step towards the breaking point.

It stretched to the point where the dust clouds began to clear, but that only brought a new level of terror. Anyone with a comprehensive enough understanding of demolitions and mechanical properties would recognize that the dust clouds didn't look right. They had been too thick, too imposing. If Bakuda hadn't been focused on her confrontation with me, or more specifically her confrontation with Tattletale using me as a communication medium, she would have seen it in an instant. Instead she was only catching on at the same point as the rest of her minions.

That couldn't have been good for the ego.

When the dust receded it didn't reveal clear air. Instead ominous clouds of blackness choked the facility on all sides. A hulking armored shape with two riders was just visible darting through the edge of the effect. A cry in a language I didn't speak and a point from one of the conscripts drew the gaze of the crowd to a grinning girl in a tattered purple costume, hovering at the edge of the darkness. A second pointed out a smiling but dead eyed boy half dressed in a charred renaissance fair outfit opposite her. Finally a snarl drew everyone's attention as the muzzle of a dinosaur like facsimile of a dog edged out of the miasma just far enough to expose it's riders, a hulking figure in a skull painted helmet leaking darkness from torn and missing pieces of his costume, and a harsh looking girl with dirty blond hair devoid of her usual dog mask.

I had been against this part of the plan. It was excessive and unnecessary showmanship. I hadn't exactly been outvoted, but when Brian's insistence of needing to make an impression to secure their damaged reputations fell flat Tattletale stepped in. A clear thinking Bakuda was a potential death sentence, even with all our precautions. We needed to keep her off balance, and showing her up at her big night was the best way to accomplish that.

It still felt like more high school level nonsense, but if it got us closer to putting her down then I could live with it, no matter how it came across.

God, I hope I don't get permanently associated with spectacles like this.

Tattletale made a cheeky wave which was echoed with an overelaborate bow from Alec. Brian raised a darkness coated finger towards Bakuda while Rachel whispered something to Angelica that caused the now hulking terrier to start growling. The rune-knife I made for Taylor leapt into her left hand and she deployed the baton from her right wrist. For my part I raised my omni-tool and unnecessarily charged the hologram until I was a beacon of orange light. My drones mirrored the glow as they began charging their attacks.

The posturing stretched out longer than I thought it would, mostly because Bakuda seemed at a loss for how to react and no one present was willing to take any initiative without her permission. She spun franticly between the figures of the Undersiders like a broken garden sprinkler. I watched her body language shift through expressions of shock, confusion, anger, embarrassment, pain, doubt, and fear. Finally something seemed to snap and she shifted to pure rage.

And just like that the world was chaos. The woman dragged the grenade launcher in an arc, launching barely aimed rounds more at the clouds of darkness than at any specific target. Bakuda managed four shots before her leg was pulled out from under her and she face planted into the dirt. I just caught a glimpse of Regent's laughing face before he and Tattletale vanished back into the darkness.

The professional gang members, including Bakuda's scorched lieutenants, tried to impose some order and coordination. Scattered groups had made their way back from the deeper patrols into the facility, but after enduring a second seismic event were not exactly ready to jump into a parahuman dust up. The mostly green gang members leading the civilian conscripts were having a hell of a time trying to keep them on task and were mostly getting only token efforts from their charges.

For all her talk about fear it seems Bakuda never considered what would happen if the thing in front of her forces was as scary as the thing at their back. Bakuda was too distracted to punish every case of insubordination and people weren't keen to jump into the mouth of a monster dog, the weapon of an earthquake robot, the stingers of giant alchemical insects, or the shots of a lightning drone.

Not all the squads were breaking down, but the ones that did were going down hard. I watched one group completely abandon their minder as soon as one member decided he'd rather cower in rubble than jump into the melee. Another group had a teenage gang member berating a group of middle schoolers. In his frustration he went for a knife, at which point he was brutally sucker punched by a man with thinning hair in a charred janitor's uniform. The Magic constellation passed me by without a connection as the unconscious ganger was shoved under some sheet metal. The group then made an unspoken decision to try to look busy while staying as far from the fighting as possible.

I stepped in front of Taylor as an ABB member managed to impose some coordination on one of the teams armed with an eclectic collection of firearms. They weren't exactly marksmen, but fifteen weapons opening up on you means a few will connect. It dispelled my force field, but none of the rest even chipped my durability with my height and coat completely covering Taylor. I fired back with some intentionally missed shots which, when combined with two of Taylor's reserve alchemical insects, was enough to break their formation.

Bakuda had managed to get her feet under her and was pulling herself up. I scanned for Regent, both figuratively and literally, but the darkness effectively blocked my omni-tool. It was clear he was still doing something. Bakuda was showing seemingly random twitches, tremors, and hiccups, it was just that none of them were enough to keep her out of the fight, which was the single task Alec was responsible for.

"Tattletale, what the hell is Regent doing?" I sent another couple of shots painfully close to the head of a gang member who was doing a better job at imposing order than his peers. The shockwave from the runes was enough to completely take him off his feet and I noticed a couple of people from the back of the crowd of conscripts decide to take their chances running blind into the darkness over whatever he'd been planning for them.

"What do you mean?" There was a pause and the sound of someone scrambling over rubble. "...oh shit."

"That doesn't sound encouraging." I called down a drone on a near collision course with one gang member who had grabbed a mostly intact rocket launcher. We had managed to keep the exotic ordinance contained, but I'm not sure how much longer that would last. Taylor was sending an alchemical insect after anyone who looked like they could get off a shot, but her supplies were running low. I only had one mixture of that formula left and wanted to hold off in case any serious surprises showed up.

"He's going off script. It's... fuck. If it works it'll solve all our problems but there's no way he has time to pull that off here and." Her voice had a level of concern I wasn't used to. The only thing I'd heard that was close to it was the call that brought me into this mess in the first place.

That would have been worrying enough, but my passenger decided to chime in. I was getting waves of impressions I hadn't picked out since my first research into the Undersiders. Impressions of Alec's past.

I knew there was something messed up there. The sense was Alec was involved in something terrible at the behest of someone even more terrible. Something that actively disgusted my passenger. He wasn't comfortable about it being part of Alec's past, but was happy the boy was distancing himself from it. Whatever he was doing here, whatever he was bringing back from his past was enough to cause some serious concern.

"What's he doing? What is he bringing back?" I remembered that dead stare in the locker that smelled like chemicals and charcoal and how quickly it had shifted back to the happy irreverent practical joker. Alec was not alright, he was very far from alright and I needed to know just what we were getting into.

"How did you... Never mind. I can't talk about it now, and it's not going to make a difference. For now we need some other way of pinning down Bakuda."

There was no question about that. Despite near constant twitches of her neck, arms, shoulders, and the odd leg muscle Bakuda had managed to rally a decent crowd of conscripts. The level of obedience probably had something to do with the smoldering skeleton everyone was making a point to avoid looking at. So in exchange for one summary execution Bakuda had managed to bring a pair of patched up mortars, three rocket launchers, and her own obnoxious grenade launcher to bear against our elevated position.

Yeah, it was well past time to abandon the show-off high ground. Before we fell back I signaled Fleet and my motoroid prepared for launch. One tonfa swung away to free the hand for support while the other was held at the ready. The whine of the turbines amplified to a scream, sending a torrent of wind across the pile of rubble. With a sudden burst the motoroid rocketed forward a few scant feet off the ground, barreling towards Bakuda's artillery placement.

This was a maneuver I would never have dreamed of attempting at the start of the night, but the software of my A.I. was progressing as well as I could have possibly hoped. Within a single night Fleet had advanced from roughly controlled jumps to precision vectored thrust flightpaths. As the motoroid skimmed over the ground it tilted to one side and jammed its crackling HF tonfa into the surface of the courtyard. The enchanted weapon sunk into the cracked tarmac like it was water and, following that theme, the ground behind it split apart like the red sea. The depth of the chasm and what simple conservation of mass did to the surface meant anyone in the general vicinity of the motoroid's path was thrown into chaos.

Fleet did not fly through the 'general vicinity' of Bakuda's artillery placement. The motoroid barreled straight through the team of severely undertrained weapon operators, tearing a ravine right in their midst. Experienced soldiers might have been able to peg the less than maneuverable robot with a rocket during its approach. As it stood I'd say Bakuda was the only one with a chance of landing the shot and she was too busy trying to coordinate her minions. By the time she realized what was coming she was already at ground zero for the latest earthquake of the evening.

With the heavy armaments literally split apart, and some of them more than half buried, Taylor and I could finally get off of this stupid, elevated, and exposed position. My military experience was light on precise memories, but two things I could confirm from this stunt was I did not like exposed positions and, judging by how speaking in public made me feel, I was probably not an officer. Maybe it was just the subject matter being fed to me by Tattletale, maybe it was residual social anxiety from before I got my powers, but I did not feel comfortable leading that discussion.

Bakuda was the kind of problem I'd want to deal with using long range bombardment, or at the very least a well-coordinated alpha strike. Instead I got a mess of half coordinated super-powered teenagers who it was now apparent all had different objectives.

Tattletale had been light on analysis since the combat had started. I don't know if she was building to something or if her power was just less helpful in chaotic situations like this. My best hope was she was off trying to get Regent back on task.

And Regent had clearly decided to do his own thing. As the situation stood there was no way to reach him to find out what he was trying or why he decided to abandon the plan. I swear I'm never trying this nonsense again without proper communications in place. Preferably implanted in everyone's God damn head.

Does that count as a quarter thing? It seems like it should count as a quarter thing, though hell if I know what it's connected to.

As Taylor and I pulled back I spotted Grue riding shotgun with Bitch. Honestly he seemed to be putting more showmanship into his efforts than was strictly necessary. I was still worried about his mental state and how much emphasis he had put on redeeming the Undersiders' reputation. That was particularly worrying since, as the leader, I was relying on him to keep the rest of the team on task.

He didn't seem to be doing a stellar job of that with Rachel. Bitch and Angelica were dancing against the line of my conditions for joining the fight. Conscripts were merely body checked out of the way by the giant rhino dog that had previously been an adorable terrier. Generally survivable injuries, but that assumed a robust opponent, not whoever could be grabbed off the street. Still, it was better than the fate of the gang members who were grabbed and thrown aside like chew toys.

Bitch was clearly furious and venting her anger, but I had to admit that she was holding back and exercising excellent control. Her dogs must have been masterfully trained just based on the fact that everyone was still alive at the point when she left them. I have no idea how she managed to teach a creature that size that level of restraint.

I still had concerns about severed arteries or punctured lungs, but frankly I could live with more serious injuries from career ABB than I could from their forced conscripts. It was still horrific, but that kind of thing was different for people who had chosen a life of violence rather than been recently kidnapped and enslaved.

Moving down the pile I found a consequence of sending my motoroid away. It seems my initial idea about the imposing nature of my robot keeping away anyone who would think to swarm me was right on the money. It looked like one of the patrol groups had wandered back through Grue's darkness, which proved to effectively conceal them from Survey's constant watch on my sensors.

They had held back at the edge of the obstruction until my motoroid took off, then decided they wanted to be heroes. Heroes for the ABB, that is. This wasn't one of those groups of old women and young children. My guess is that the two career gangsters had picked out the most compliant of the conscripts to form something of a brute squad. It was over a dozen men in their early twenties all with some form of violent melee weapon. About a third of the group, including the tougher of the two ABB members, decided to charge me on the spot.

They fell over themselves skidding to a stop as my omni-tool baked the ground in front of them with a jet of high energy plasma. With my reinforcement I wasn't bothered by the heat, but I could still feel the intensity of it. That intensity was very evident on the front most conscripts whose skin turned an unhappy shade of pink and clothing began to singe. The professional ABB, leading from the rear, tried to rally his squad, but it takes a lot more influence than he had access to in order to get someone to leap into a high temperature blaze.

Before the heat from my plasma burst could dissipate I turned to back up Taylor and was shocked at the image before me.

When I saw her cutting down zombies it looked like the knife was flying out of her hand. Well, it didn't just look like that anymore. The blade was clearly twirling out of her reach as it sliced a pool cue in half, then circled back as the cue's wielder flailed to escape the reach of the flying knife. It looped around her in what looked like an uncontrolled arc, except it split a giant bowie knife in two before tracing the shallowest cut across the man's arm. A handful of the group who were debating getting within melee reach of a knife that could clearly end their lives were suddenly peppered by high velocity debris as Taylor repeated the opening move she had used against Uber and Leet, swiping the baton through the rubble and sending an effective shotgun blast of concrete fragments flying towards her opponents.

It only took one last burst of plasma to convince the group they were badly out of their depth and that discretion was preferable to the loss of limb and eyebrows. With their retreat the knife circled back to Taylor, its hilt landing cleanly in the palm of her hand. With the blade slowed I was able to clearly see the secret behind her trick.

"Spider web?"

Despite the full face mask I got the sense she was smiling at me. As we moved she let the blade drop and I could just make out the gossamer thread connecting it to her hand. Loose threads trailed from other parts of the knife, but suddenly went taught, pulling the knife into a spinning arc that returned it to her hand.

"You said to practice with it." Around us I could see insects, actual living insects, not my alchemy creations, moving with thread trailing behind them. "This knife, whatever you did to it, it's incredible. I mean, obviously, but thank you." She dropped her head before continuing. "Uh, I was experimenting with it, seeing what I could do and it was just so light. I was trying to find out how much strength it actually took to swing it and, well..."

Once again she released the knife and it did a pirouette on a strand of silk before returning to her hand. I nodded knowingly to cover my shock at the event.

Quickly I checked on my drones and motoroid with my omni-tool. Bakuda was still recovering from the first scattering strike, but was calling in more conscripts into a close formation. It seemed she'd realized that her command structure only worked if she was personally there to keep the conscripts in line and that human shields were of limited use if they weren't actually shielding you.

With them that tightly packed a repeat of my previous move would result in a mass of pasted civilians. As a consequence my robot and drones were limited to disrupting the coordination of the rest of the forces. It diminished the ABB control over the area, but didn't deal with the tinker sitting on top of a pile of damaged ordinance.

I felt the Celestial Forge make another connection to the Crafting constellation as we moved into the now ruined murder arena. It was a mid-sized mote simply called Engineer. Incredibly for once the power did not increase my mechanical abilities. Instead it improved my capacity to come up with novel and creative designs. I had encountered intelligence boosters before, but this was the first time a power had increased my creativity. It was an interesting concept and the novelty of it was just about enough to outweigh the innate concerns about how much my mind was continuing to be altered.

As novel a concept as that was it wouldn't have been enough to get me excited over a mote of this strength. Really, it was the second aspect that was truly impressive. This power let me hold any blueprint perfectly in my mind without needing any external reference what so ever. Despite all the 'intelligence' boosts I'd received I was still working with a mortal memory. This power completely dealt with that problem. My mind had an effectively infinite amount of storage space for all the plans, blueprints, and technical reference I could ever want. I wouldn't have to write down anything ever again. No data that could get compromised or lost. In the event I somehow was separated from my computer core I would still have all my projects at my fingertips rather than have to try to redesign them with whatever human technology I could scrounge up.

Ok, that's one more quarter for the jar.

Tattletale's voice chirped through my omni-tool and I amplified it enough for Taylor to hear. "Bakuda's working on something with what's left of her equipment. No line on Regent, so regroup where Apeiron met up with Khepri."

"Confirmed." I called out.

"See you there." Grue answered over his own phone. We really needed better communications. With my latest power I could already start designing the plans for a simple com link that I'd be able to fabricate with my omni-tool. This wasn't the kind of nebulous planning to build some general device, it was precise blueprints with exact measurements and detailed components. With this power I could manage design work in the middle of a battlefield as easily as if I was at a drafting table.

That said, a battlefield was definitely not the place for design work. I shared a nod with Taylor and we moved out, though she gave the knife a final spin to float it into a reverse grip.

On reflection magic was quite frankly bullshit. I sort of knew that when I was getting into it, but it was blatantly clear here. The wind rune array I had engraved into the web pattern of the blade, which I noticed had actual spiders on it now, had a simple purpose. Make the knife light. Make the knife fast. Make the knife accurate. However, I hadn't connected that to the scale of the effects or how they could be exploited.

My Decadence power let me engrave runes to a level of detail I hadn't imagined possible. That was responsible for the stronger than expected results from the runecraft on the knife and baton, but there was another factor at play. Runic effects scaled in power based on the weapon in question. Usually what it scaled with was the literal scale of the weapon, size equals strength and all that, but because this was magic there were all kinds of crazy synergies that I hadn't taken into account. In short, certain weapons had affinities for certain elements.

It wasn't exactly obvious what weapons worked best with what elements. I doubt I would have been able to piece it together without my recently increased smithing skill, and some aspects, like what separated a water affinity sword from a fire affinity sword, were incredibly arbitrary. Regardless, the wind element liked small, light, and sharp weapons. The knife I made for Taylor was a perfect match for her. I had accidently created a flying blade.

As we moved away from the center of the fighting Taylor showed off a few more twirls and spins of the knife. It was enchanted to be light enough for anyone to wield, fast and responsive, and accurate to where you intended to strike. Normally that wouldn't extend to her spider puppet show, but whatever effect linked Taylor to her insects effectively made them part of her body for the purposes of the enchantment.

"Do you have any trouble aiming the blade when you do that?" I asked as we crossed another pile of rubble that used to be a locker. She had been confident enough to use it in a hectic combat where a single misplaced swipe could have removed a limb, and not necessarily one of her opponent's.

"Not with my bugs helping me." She grasped the handle again and showed the spiders on the web pattern. "I can sense their location. That lets me know exactly where it is. I just need to put some bugs on whoever I'm fighting and I have a full picture of what's happening."

And there was the terrifying level of situational awareness that separated the low tier masters from the stand out ones. If the claims she made about her range and the quantity of bugs she could control were true, and it all saw this level of accuracy then that was possibly one of the strongest coordination powers on the planet. The only thing that kept her from being a top tier threat was the relative harmlessness of her minions.

Which was a factor I had removed by giving her that knife. She had kept it on close defensive arcs, but what was her range with that thing? The full three blocks of her bug control? Jesus, that was terrifying. Maybe there would be something to that savior-of-the-world impression after all.

We had reached the edge of the walls of darkness that Grue had set up during his prep work for this attack. It was terrifically intimidating and effectively isolating for the courtyard forces, but not the most team friendly power. My scanners were registering nothing inside the miasma and it was hell on conventional communications as well.

"I can navigate with my bugs. Do you need me to lead you through?" Taylor looked at the weapons in both her hands, clearly reluctant to relinquish either of them in the current situation. I wasn't too keen on being led by the hand like a kindergartner either.

"It's alright, I have a formula that will let me see." I dug out one of my Revealer formulas. After its usefulness the first night I had been sure to prepare multiple sets of reagents for that particular mixture.

"It lets you see in Grue's darkness?"

"It lets me see in a lot of situations. It's not specific to that stuff." I gestured at the imposing black clouds. "And it's not perfect. I don't get a lot of detail, but it's good enough to let me navigate."

She nodded as I dug out the ash and wax mixture and combined them. Suddenly, rather than a solid wall the darkness presented a transition to a low resolution wireframe version of the world. Taylor stepped into it and was suddenly a rough outline of her usual appearance. Still, as unnerving as that was it was miles better than stumbling through blackness.

My formula helped with visibility, but did nothing for the other effects of the darkness. I couldn't even read my omni-tool's display in the limited detail and sound was murky and directionless. I was just able to make out faint wisps signifying Taylor's conventional insects, picking over the rubble or sweeping for obstacles. I also noticed the dozen or so that had found their way onto my costume. Apparently she was getting in the habit of tracking her allies as closely as her enemies.

You know, considering I knew how effectively she could target that blade with her spider web puppetry, finding out I had tracking insects on my body should have been a cause for concern. My passenger didn't think it was any threat, and I was inclined to agree. I still wasn't sure how she was tied to the fate of the world, but of the Undersiders she seemed to have the best intentions.

Of course, saying that about the person responsible for the Aegislash would seem like a bad joke to anyone without proper context of the group dynamic.

It took some work to pick out where our meeting place had been. The question of how Tattletale knew where we ran into each other was just another query for the pile concerning that girl's power. Without Taylor's insect senses or my Revealer formula I doubt we could have made it, but combined we made excellent time across the ruined storage facility.

And it was ruined. This place had more occupied lockers than I assumed, probably long term storage for locals who had run out of garage space. I didn't regret my actions, but the array of shattered furniture, broken china, and household items mixed in with the rubble was unfortunate. Still, I would have reduced this place to a cinder if it meant a better chance of stopping Bakuda before she could repeat her cranial bomb madness on anyone else.

As we approached what I could see as outlines of three figures and a monstrous dog the Celestial Forge missed a connection with the Knowledge constellation. There was a sudden violent transition as we moved from murky low detail darkness to the bright light of the overhead flares. Brian apparently had fine enough control of his darkness to open a gap for the five of us to meet.

The mood of the group was mixed. Tattletale seemed frustrated as well as somewhat out of breath. I'm guessing her power hadn't let her navigate the darkness quite as easily as Taylor and I had. Bitch was running a hand over the plates on Angelica's head and neck. She still seemed to be quietly fuming, but the battle had gotten some of the steam out of her system. Brian looked somewhat agitated and had turned his attention to us as soon as he spotted us through the darkness.

"About Regent..." He stepped forward to speak, then seemed at a loss for how to proceed.

"Any word on him?" Without Grue's darkness blocking all EMF I was able to check in on the courtyard. Bakuda was working on something, which was concerning, while still twitching erratically. The jerky motion seemed to annoy more than it impeded.

"No luck. He's dug in somewhere." Tattletale gave the display a concerned look. Bakuda had advanced from figurative human shields to literal human shields. Particularly, anyone too old, young, or infirm to be of help was being hauled in front of the rest of her forces. My drones and motoroids didn't have the precision to work around the targets or put them down without risking critical injury to the conscripts.

"What's Regent trying to do?" Taylor's attention was half on the screen and half in that unfocused way she seemed to communicate with her swarm.

"Don't worry about it." I was worried about it and Tattletale could clearly pick that up. "It... It's not a terrible idea, but it's probably not something he can pull off in time."

Grue stepped forward with renewed resolve. "Look, I'm sorry about this. I know we had a plan..."

I shook my head. "No, we had a last minute strategy." I would be lying if I said I was alright with the situation, but these weren't soldiers. I would barely expect them to stay on task if they came into this fresh. After what they went through tonight it was really inevitable someone would go in an unexpected direction. "I said I would support you." I assured Brian. "It would have been great if everyone had held to task, but that's not happening. We need to figure out what we're going to do from here."

He gave a grateful nod and turned to Tattletale.

"Bakuda's running low on munitions." She indicated my drone feed. "She's been dipping into equipment that was intended for some kind of follow up after she finished here, and she's burned through most of it."

"What was she going to hit? The PRT building?" Brian leaned in to check the display.

The thinker shook her head. "Not with this level of ordinance. The Protectorate gets really defensive about their civilian staff. A hit like that could bring a response on the level of Eidolon." She saw our reaction. "Okay, she might try it, but this thinker is coordinating things. It was probably a crippling strike on the Merchants, or a serious territory grab against the Empire."

Well, at least we're helping to keep drug dealers and Nazis safe. Okay, to be fair the Empire actually fits into both of those categories.

"Bakuda barely has anything left. She's basically running on fumes. She was already manic and we've been keeping her seriously off balance." She smiled at me in a way I didn't like. "Series of poor decisions, things she didn't prepare for and running into a more competent opponent means defeat is inevitable, and now she knows it." Her smile turned cruel. "There's nothing she can do but run down the clock."

There was a blast from the courtyard as a rebuild mortar sent a shell high into the air. It detonated in an almost soundless ripple that was barely visible until it encountered the fields of Grue's darkness. The black smoke was boiled away like cotton candy in a blast furnace. Some secondary effect of the blast caught my motoroid, spiking it into the ground. It also tore apart my drones, effectively cutting off our visual link to the courtyard.

Brian was the first to speak in the face of the now blank screen. "Uh, what the hell?"

"She didn't have that before." Tattletale's voice had no small measure of concern in it. I shifted to the sensors of my half buried motoroid as I prepared to fabricate more drones. The conscripts were edging away from a hastily constructed series of launchers clustered in the center of the courtyard. It looked like Bakuda had taken every piece of equipment we'd damaged and mashed it into one giant assembly of rockets and mortar barrels.

"Someone's been busy." I kept the concern out of my voice as I analyzed the potential firepower of that assembly.

"No." Tattletale frantically shifted her eyes from the screen to me and then back again. "She should barely be functional. We've been hitting every button of her trigger. There's no way she could have been coherent enough to be able to manage this."

The statement dragged me out of my highly concerned analysis. "Wait, that's what you were doing? Going after her trigger?"

"Yes?" She answered defensively. No one here seemed that comfortable with the concept. Seeing that reaction she pressed on to defend herself. "I know it seems cruel, but we needed to keep her distracted."

"It's not cruel, it's stupid." I pointed at the device on the screen. "You've been... Fuck, no I'm a party to this as well. We've been pushing a God damn chaos tinker into her Sechen range all night!"

"Senchen range?" Taylor asked in a concerned tone.

"It's a theory." Tattletale answered quickly. "The idea that powers get stronger if you're in a situation closer to what happened when you triggered."

"It's not a theory. You've been strengthening her connection to her passenger with every one of those stupid insults and now we have to deal with the consequences. Fuck, she probably doesn't even understand what she's built there."

"Passenger?" I ignored Taylor's question. Without the darkness we were badly exposed. If I didn't get something in the air soon we would be sitting ducks for the next barrage. I flash fabricated five more drones and sent them on a blazing path towards the courtyard.

As soon as they crested the rubble a rocket launched up from the mass of weaponry and veered towards my drones. She had never used tracking systems on her rockets before, but with an attuned chaos tinker there was nothing we could rule out. Taking no chances I directed a drone on a straight suicide run towards the projectile.

The rocket detonated, but not in a conventional blast. A mess of black crystals flew out of the warhead in a cloud of shrapnel. They tore through the eggshell thin casings of the remaining drones like paper, but the real threat didn't start until they hit the ground.

I almost hated my materials and nanoengineering knowledge because it let me tell exactly what was coming. The crystals hit the ground as the seed for a fresh lattice and immediately began pulling in material for expansion. Rather than the towering mass I had seen earlier these grew like brambles, thick jagged twists of angular dark stone. What was worse, somehow Bakuda had made the reaction exothermic. I could see the heat distortion in the air around and between the strands of crystal and even some small fires sprouting on the ground nearby.

They were also advancing, and advancing quickly at that. The momentum of their impact had created a growth vector for the strands and we were staring down a forest of rapidly expanding crystal spears set to completely overrun us.

Without thinking I dug into my reagents and grabbed every copy of my last resort dark alchemy formula. Two drams of grease and a measure of gunpowder. My strongest attack formula, Explosion's older brother, Nitro.

Despite the feelings of desperation I took care when mixing the reagents, cultivating the energy for the maximum effect available to me. The micromanipulators on my hands allowed insane precision during the process and I drew on every shred of supporting knowledge my power had provided me.

When I threw down the mixture in the face of the burning forest of stone it flew into the approaching mass with a titanic detonation. The advance slowed, but kept coming. Fortunately I had been able to recognize enough of the effect to know one formula wouldn't be able to save us. I launched another one, and another. One after another six of my most powerful alchemical mixtures exploded against the abomination of material science. The final detonation was close enough to nearly take me off my feet, but the encroachment finally stalled with only a few meters to spare.

My efforts had bought us a pocket of safety in a burning nest of crystal. The sides had closed in behind us, effectively pinning us down. The heat didn't bother me thanks to my reinforcement, but it was clearly seriously uncomfortable for the rest of the Undersiders. Even Angelica looked unhappy, though that was probably more to do with being penned in than due to the radiating heat.

My motoroid was still trying to free itself from a pile of rubble without impairing our view of the clearly unhinged Bakuda. Too far for audio reception, but she was undoubtedly pleased with the results. Something else launched from the assembly and I feared a second missile before recognizing one of Leet's snitches. It soared away from the courtyard until we could spot it through a gap in the crystal canopy. Bakuda didn't seems at all disappointed with our survival and instead happily went to work on the apparatus.

My mind raced as I tried to figure a way out of the situation. The situation I had caused, or at least been a party to. Even for someone as twisted as Bakuda I hadn't been comfortable digging into her college trauma. I was nearly two years from my first breakdown and those memories still felt fresh and painful. Imagining my own state barely a month after it and well, Bakuda's instability made a lot more sense.

That low blow hadn't served to accomplish anything and in fact had proved to work against us. Effectively we dumped a probable chaos tinker who was consumed with rage and running enhanced powers on top of a pile of damaged highly advanced equipment of their own design and somehow thought of it as a victory. Judging by the power of the first two explosives I had little hope for our survival against the full barrage.

Retreat was definitely the best option here. I still had Escape formulas prepared, but my experience with that effect wasn't that comprehensive. I could probably manage two additional people, any more would be risky. That left two to escape on Angelica with Alec hopefully being able to take care of himself.

The problem with that plan was the complete lack of an escape route for Angelica. I didn't know the exact limits of how high Bitch's dogs could jump, but reaching the top of the crystal hedges wouldn't be enough. She'd have to clear it completely, plus deal with the heat being emitted. Judging from the shimmer above the crystals even if Angelica could endure the conditions there was a decent chance that anyone on her back would be flash cooked.

As I rapidly considered my options the Celestial Forge connected to the Crafting constellation for what was perhaps the most generic and far reaching power I'd ever encountered. It was called Masterwork Craftsman and it made me exceptionally skilled at crafting... things. That was it. Things. Anything that counted as a thing was covered by this power. How skilled was I? Literally the worst I could ever produce was masterwork quality, as in the product of a master who had devoted his life to the craft. That was now my 'phone it in' level.

I watched Taylor try to send her remaining alchemical insects through, over or around the crystals. Unfortunately I was proved to be exactly correct regarding the intensity of the heat. The crystals may have stopped growing, but they were still radiating tremendous amounts of thermal energy. Nothing that she could summon or that I could conjure was making it through that mess alive. Any hope of repeating our opening strike was completely out the window.

Brian was talking hurriedly to Tattletale and Bitch was working to keep Angelica calm. Taylor gave me a hopeful look and I made my decision.

Thanks to blunting their growth with my formulas the crystals hadn't extended nearly as far behind us. There was a decent chance I could blaze a trail. My sword would be able to handle the heat and could extend the reach of its blade thanks to the HF capacitor and shockwave runes. The effect would be more precise than trying to blast our way out, which could easily backfire on us or see me run out of formulas before we were clear.

"Hold on," The group turned their attention to me. I swallowed before continuing. "I think I can deal with this."

Even with all the upgrades I'd built into it my sword might not be enough. Luckily I had something that might take it over the top. I drew a formula consisting of a piece of quartz crystal and a slip of iron and mixed them together. The assembled capes watched as the Energize formula glowed and flowed into my weapon. It wouldn't last long, but the formula would rapidly pull alchemical energy into the weapon, enhancing every aspect of its performance to an incredible degree.

I held out my now glowing pistol and activated the fabricator for my customized omni-blade. That was the moment I realized my mistake. I understood how manufacture by my omni-tool counted as building something for the purpose of my powers, but I honestly didn't expect that to extend to my pistol's blade mount. It wasn't really crafting, it just churned out the same tool every time. Regardless, the fact that it was manufactured out of omni-gel meant it counted and I had a split second to decide, five copies or bigger manufacture.

I chose 'bigger' solely to keep four loose monomolecular blades from flying loose of the assembly. So instead of killing the Undersiders with carbide shrapnel my pistol manifested a sword that could be best described as a surf board with a handle.

That wasn't an exaggeration. The thing was over eight feet long. I had to shift to a two handed grip just to maintain some semblance of control on it. The mass field of the comparatively tiny projectile weapon was pushing itself to the breaking point just to keep the mess together. I had a matter of seconds before this went to hell.

But there was more going on than just a size increase. My latest power decided now was the time to make itself known. The runes along the blade had been printed and thus were usually of middling power with most of the enchantment provided by the body of the pistol. They were more for continuity of effect and would probably have been rendered useless by the size increase, compromising the enchantment of the entire weapon and reducing it to junk. Runes are complicated and you can't just photocopy them at 120% for a power boost.

The thing was, with my new power I was physically incapable of producing junk. Not only were the runes corrected for the new scale of the weapon, but their quality and detail was increased by the level of my new mastery. The sword itself, already an excellent weapon, was further refined and actually subtly adjusted for its new size. It was about as well designed as a sword the size of a motorcycle could be.

That's what led to my current situation. Runes scale with the weapon. Both the affinity of the weapon for the element and the physical size of it. Masterwork Craftsman had ensured the blade was optimally designed for wind affinity. The size of the weapon could handle more magical energy than anything I'd constructed before. The consequence was such a concentration of wind magic that just holding it at the ready was producing vortices on the ground around me, catching my coat in the gusts and causing the Undersiders to edge away from me.

The dangerous glow that was building as the Energize formula pulled in more and more power probably didn't help.

I looked at my display of the courtyard to see Bakuda gaping at her own display. I turned to glance up at the snitch and she bolted upright. Frantically she started hammering controls on the assembly of artillery. I watched helplessly as the last of the munitions were armed and, with the throw of a final switch, three dozen flavors of death came flying towards us.

I had absolutely no idea if this would work. I had never dreamed of going this far into runecraft. I hadn't even used the Energize formula before. What I did know is that if I didn't do something immediately none of us were likely to get out of this alive.

The sword was heavy. Even with the wind runes and mass fields there was a level of inertia intrinsic to its bulk that couldn't be ignored. The limited leverage afforded by the pistol grip didn't help things. Survey stressed the meager mass fields of my omni-tool to assist with the swing and try to hold the weapon on target. I overloaded the HF resonant capacitor to the point of burnout and released every spark of alchemical energy into that swing. I felt muscles scream as I struggled with a power I never thought I would hold in my hands.

I swung the sword.

The night split in half.

I watched it happen from an island of calm inside a maelstrom of destruction. The slash of the blade tore an arc of baleful energy that exploded up from our position into the night. I don't know if it actually cut a line through the clouds or just looked like I did, but that was only because I was distracted by the devastation being wrought around me.

The crystal thorns split as a horizontal line burned through them. Then the split became meaningless as the shockwave of the slice caught up with the initial cut and tore the crystals apart. The same pattern repeated with the clustered munitions. A plane of absolute destruction obliterating anything it touched, followed by the kind of blast you only saw in footage of atomic tests. The bombs didn't even have time to detonate. The ones that weren't reduced to scattered components had the residue of their effects torn away into the sky in a dozen trails of crackling energy.

The impact on the facility was comparatively minor, but considering what it was being compared to that wasn't saying much. Tornado-force winds tore across the ground sending people and equipment flying. The crystal forest was reduced to shards and spread like caltrops over the wreckage. The Undersiders were spared the worst of it, but even the diminished effects sent Taylor colliding into my back. Tattletale ended up sprawled on the ground while Grue clung to Angelica. Rachel was directing her to grip the ground with her claws, providing a much needed point of stability in the chaos

As soon as things settled enough for me to coordinate the action I collapsed the blade, managing it mere seconds before the mass field and energy cell of the pistol would have burned out. The excess omni-gell from the massively oversized weapon vented out as a cloud of glowing orange vapor that flowed across the ground. I held up the pistol and ejected the badly overheated thermal clip which pulsed an angry red and hissed as it hit the rubble.

The Undersiders were looking at me with shock and amazement. All except for Tattletale. From the look in her eye I could tell. She knew. She knew I hadn't expected that to happen, that I had been managing the effects by the seat of my pants, that I was as surprised by the result as anyone else.

She wasn't just looking at me with amazement. The expression she gave me contained no small amount of fear.

I was saved from having to deal with that by Brian taking the initiative. He guided Bitch into the group after she'd been edging Angelica back. Taylor had basically gone stock still until Brian helped Tattletale up and pulled the team back into a semblance of functionality. Finally he approached me and said what were probably the first words spoken in the facility since my counter attack.

"Thank you. Seriously."

I nodded in response as the sentiment was echoed by the rest of the group, though the shock still hadn't completely worn off. Taylor looked up at the rainbow of still burning explosive effects my slash had carved into the sky, then shook her head.

We followed Grue on the way back to the center of the facility. The five of us approached the thoroughly shaken inhabitants of the courtyard. Bakuda was struggling to pull herself up by the now depleted improvised artillery. There was a sense of hopelessness throughout our opponents. Some of the ABB members still had the odd grenade, but no one wanted to try their luck. On top of everything else Bakuda was still erratically twitching, showing whatever Regent was trying to do was still happening.

There was a sense of cautious relief that slowly spread through the group. Our enemy was broken, her weapons depleted, her allies disheartened, and her support gone. There were no more standoffs, no mind games, no sneaking around trying to get an edge. We had done it. We could finally end this madness.

A sudden siren echoed through the courtyard accompanied by an all-encompassing flash of blinding light. Silhouettes were just visible through the radiance and a voice cried out over the din.

"Challenger Approaching! A new foe has appeared!"

Fanfare played as the glare faded, revealing over a dozen figures clustered around Bakuda. Front and center was a bulky man in mismatched pieces of technological armor and a skinny figure in a blue and yellow jumpsuit with various gadgets strapped to it, including a katana slung across his back. The rest of the figures were an assembly of men in an erratic arrangement of outfits. I spotted an orc, some blue space armor, something that looked like a rubber suit for a power ranger's villain, multiple military uniforms, a badly made robot suit, and a Roman legionary.

Uber and Leet were back, and this time they brought their henchmen. Their sorry assembly of henchmen who seemed to be outfitted in whatever RTS gear they had on hand. Some of it was potentially dangerous if it worked, but they had phased out henchmen tinker tech ages ago. I had no idea what they thought they could accomplish here.

I was getting more than a little fed up with this mess. I was tired and getting low on reagents. I had almost fried my pistol. My motoroid was only now extracting itself from being spiked into rubble. I'd had my awareness tour through more medical procedures than I'd ever wanted to know existed. And after all that I now had to deal with these clowns again. I had no idea who put them up to this, but I was ready to put them down.

A couple of henchmen helped Bakuda to her feet and handed her a headset and more concerningly a pair of cases that they were handling very delicately. At least I was more concerned about the cases until I heard the tinker speak into the headset.

"Yes, alright, just put her on." She adjusted the headset and pulled a new grenade launcher from the case. "Fucking fine. I don't care. I've had it. Just give me the timing."

I shared a worried glance with Tattletale as Leet worked something on a device on his wrist. It seemed the ABB's new thinker had entered the match. Leet launched something into the sky and a set of words appeared with Uber reading them out in his annoyingly over-dramatic voice.

"Round two, fight!"

Jumpchain abilities this chapter:

Engineer (Super Mario RPG) 300:
You're more adept at coming up with novel and creative objects. Any blueprint can be held perfectly in your mind without needing to draw it on paper.

Master Craftsman (Forgotten Realms) 300:
You are exceptionally skilled at crafting things. At your worst, your results are masterwork.
 
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21 Closing Moves
21 Closing Moves

I looked across the newly arrived figures. Leet's stupid fighting game message still burned in the sky while he and Uber posed like jackasses. Behind them were their motley assortment of henchmen clustered around Bakuda, the last serious resistance that had been left in this hell pit.

The two villains were preening, presumably for cameras I still hadn't tracked down. Either they deployed more when they arrived or Leet built his surveillance equipment to withstand disaster areas. Either way I was definitely taking that tech when this was over.

Behind the posing assholes their henchmen were grimly getting to work. Unlike the pair they did not seem happy to be here. Scut work for the city's least successful villains wasn't exactly the most envied position in Brockton Bay. It was probably limited to people who couldn't stand the major gangs and couldn't qualify for Coil's tactical squads. Actually, they mostly looked like out of work longshoremen. I'm sure middle age blue collar workers were absolutely thrilled about having to put on a stupid costume and get teleported to a warzone on the whim of a pair of twenty-something gamers.

In any other circumstances I might have felt sorry for them. Now I was just done.

Despite their harrowed expressions they were still significantly more professional than the conscripts or even most of the career ABB members. They were scrambling around Bakuda with pieces of equipment and weapons, generally doing a good job of working around their ridiculous outfits.

I glanced at the Undersiders. Aside from the new arrivals we were the least injured people in the facility. The after effects of my slash had subjected everyone present to a massive range of cuts, scrapes, and bruises. Bakuda was trying to play up a second wind, but looked barely able to stay on her feet. One of her gas mask lenses was badly cracked and the costume and body armor she showed up with was in tatters. On top of all of that were the burns from my opening attack.

And she was still randomly twitching. Whatever Regent was trying he hadn't relented in the face of facility wide disaster. I pushed my thoughts and irritations on that aside and focused on what I could actually accomplish.

A quick look exchanged with Taylor's team confirmed that they shared my opinion. No more of this. No more dancing around, no humoring the villains, no mind games, and no showboating. This ended now.

Uber took a wide stance and hefted a rifle with an accordion like section on its barrel. The big cape glanced at Leet, then smirked at us. "It's time to kick ass and chew bubble gum…and I'm all outta..."

His movie trailer voice was cut off as the mass effect round collided with his face. The impact caused a glowing barrier of light to flare into visibility around Uber's body. The man was rocked back slightly, but the shot did no actual damage.

The rest of the Undersiders, Taylor in particular, gaped at my reaction but no one said anything. Whatever conflicts of faith they might have had over taking lethal actions were well behind us now.

"Excuse me," Uber had the gall to look annoyed at being shot in the head. "Can you..."

"No."

I fired three more rounds in quick succession, each aimed straight at his face. What looked like one barrier was actually a complicated interlacing of several types of force fields. They unfortunately had the sense to come into this expecting a serious fight, which was a step above their previous behavior.

The combination of the field effects negated the damage but the additional force from my pistol's shockwave runes was enough to drive him back, causing him to drop to one knee. From what I could tell it looked like at least six different barrier types. Some kind of charged particle barrier, a type plasma sheeting, some kind of kinetic redirection, and a few other brightly colored effects I couldn't identify yet.

"Do you mind? We're trying to..." Leet flinched as a round bounced off a near invisible sphere around him that rippled like water. So far I was the only one to take action. Their henchmen were busy working on something around Bakuda, who was listening intently to her headset. They flinched at the sound of each shot, but didn't spare more than a glance before hurrying with their tasks. The rest of the forces were either incapable or unwilling to intervene, generally pulling as far back from our two groups as possible.

We were facing off across a field of rubble. No cover or terrain features to take into account. Given how heavy Uber and Leet's load out seemed to be that was probably more of a detriment to us than to them. I tried to get a look at what they had brought for Bakuda. The grenade launcher she'd picked up was actually smaller and simpler than her previous one. It didn't have the oversized drum magazine of her old model and looked a lot less advanced. Probably a prototype.

So rather than a resurgence with upgraded gear they had most likely rushed in with whatever she still had in her workshop. Somewhat of a relief, but Bakuda wasn't ever going to be considered harmless. The fact that she was apparently being coordinated by a mystery thinker certainly didn't help matters.

"Khepri!" I called to Taylor as I drew a set of components from my belt. "Time to end this."

She nodded as the thrown formula shaped itself into a wasp's nest. Just before it exploded I heard Uber swear loudly as he brought up his rifle. A barrage of crackling blue spheres launched from the weapon and tore into the cloud of insects. Barely a handful managed to escape the blasts, but those were enough to wheel through the crowd and start picking off targets.

Bakuda dropped the grenade launcher just before it would have been pierced by one of the insects. The creature's momentum carried it into the armored pauldron of the orc-dressed henchman next to her. He screamed and clutched his bloody shoulder as Bakuda dropped to scramble for the weapon. The more heavily armed henchmen had their tinker tech or conventional weapons splintered in their hands while Uber's force field unfortunately managed to protect his rifle.

He lifted the weapon again and I took a position in front of the Undersiders. Tattletale stepped forward but kept me between her and Uber. "We don't have the firepower or durability to deal with that. Can you handle Uber and Leet?"

I glared at the two idiots and scowled. When I first fought them it had been hard to get past their reputation as harmless internet clowns, gimmick villains more concerned with spectacle than profit or doing harm. It made it hard to treat them like a serious threat, even with my new military experience screaming at me. Maybe if I'd had that experience for more than six hours it wouldn't have been a problem, but I hadn't trusted the instincts like I should have.

I wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. "Deal with Bakuda. I've got this."

I triggered another fabrication of drones and ordered Fleet into the air. The drones spread out and soared towards the enemy formation. Uber began to pick them off with his plasma rifle, but they served to draw fire from the Undersiders as they circled around and disappeared under Grue's darkness.

I moved forward and pulled out the reagents for a Speed formula. Uber's eyes widened as I mixed them and he immediately shifted to hose me down with plasma orbs. With my level of thermal and kinetic reinforcement I was able to weather the storm, but the mixture of wax and water was vaporized before it could react.

Uber looked a little unnerved at the lack of damage, but still forced a smirk onto his face. "Should have speced for casting speed."

I furrowed my brow and launched an Overload from my omni-tool. I guess it was too much to hope that I'd be able to keep pulling off that kind of alchemy with impunity. I just didn't expect to be picked out for it so soon. Then again, I hadn't exactly been subtle with it so far, and the glowing mixtures and combination time created a very tempting target.

The blast of electricity from my omni-tool washed over Uber and caused the closer of the henchmen to flinch away and fall back. This kind of effect was specifically designed to bring down shields. While it didn't do a perfect job of that here, Uber's layers of protective fields were looking a lot less vibrant and the ones that held on were flickering. Oh, and the sound of a watch alarm caused him to tear a smoking device off his belt and toss it to the side.

Leet had managed to deploy some kind of red tool box into a short turret that began spitting bullets in my direction. They were barely a distraction, but probably not for long. He was hitting the thing with a wrench that somehow caused the machine to swell slightly with each blow.

As Uber was bringing his plasma rifle back on target I keyed up an Incinerate command from my omni-tool. A portion of omni-gel was energized and projected from the device towards the flickering defenses of the cape. I fully embraced the effects of my workaholic and sent a blast three times the size with twenty five times the volume rocketing towards him.

The blast of plasma utterly baked the area around his position. Uber was lost in the fireball while the henchmen at the periphery found the distance they pulled back to avoid my Overload shot wasn't quite enough to completely save them from the Incinerate. More than a few minions were sent diving for cover or trying to roll out the flames that had quickly spread over their costumes.

I wasn't nearly as concerned about those injuries as I would have been at the start of the night.

I missed a connection to the knowledge constellation as the speed and intensity of the bullets ricocheting off me increased dramatically. The turret had expanded to produce a pair of rotary barrels that spun at an incredible rate of fire. Leet kept hammering on the thing and I saw what looked like a rocket launcher begin to unfold.

Yeah, that wasn't happening. Without Uber to bake my efforts into vapor with his plasma rifle I was able to combine a formula consisting of a piece of limestone and a chunk of wax. Leet flinched as the glowing mix was thrown down, then craned his neck to follow it as it shot into the sky.

I caught the expression of panic as the massive stone fist dropped out of the night, crushing the turret completely and popping Leet's shield like a soap bubble. He crab walked back from the wreckage while also trying to work one of the gadgets on his wrist.

I raised my pistol for a shot on his prone form, but before I could get the round off there was a glowing flash and something cut across my back. It hit hard enough to sting badly, even through my reinforcement. I spun around to find Uber standing in scorched and melted armor. His shields were flickering in and out of visibility and I could see badly burned flesh under the equipment. In his right hand he held the glowing shape of a weapon even I could recognize.

"Uber and Leet finishing the fight." His voice had lost its grandiose tone and had an unpleasantly wet texture to it. "There are those that said this day would never come. What are they to say now?" He flourished the Spartan sword and took a fighting stance.

I shot him in the face again.

There was little damage, but the impact wasn't negated to the extent it had previously been. The combined kinetic energy and shockwave did send the cape back a few steps, which was partially what I was hoping for. Even if I hadn't basically fried my omni-blade with that previous attack I didn't want to get into anything approaching a sword fight with Uber. The wind runes might have been enough to level the field, but it was idiotic to meet a physically superior skill-thinker in a battle of skill.

Instead I used the brief moment it bought me to swing my pistol back toward Leet. The tinker had been messing with a glowing disk that had been attached to the back of his costume. Whatever he did caused thin glowing lines to spread across his body. The rest of his form faded to monochrome just before I took the shot.

The round tore through the tinker's head, but instead of a shower of gore it shattered into tiny cubic pieces that flew apart, then pulled back together. Despite the look of agony on his face Leet screamed in triumph.

"Yes!" He scrambled to his feet while laughing as I had to give ground under Uber's renewed assault. "She was right! Oh my God she was right. I could barely get this working the first time, and now..."

I managed to drive back the larger cape with a trio of shots, then spun and dropped an Incinerate directly on Leet. His scream as the plasma engulfed him was chilling, but as I watched cubic pieces of his body that blast had blown off floated back into place. Uber moved to his side as the fire faded and stared me down.

"Digitization." Leet had a mad gleam in his eye as he taunted me. "Existence as matter and data at the same time. Can't damage information, just derez it, and that's an easy backup."

Next to him Uber spit out some bloody phlegm and smirked at me. The cape looked like he'd be lucky to survive the night in intensive care, but was still moving with as much energy as when he was fresh to the fight. "Health bar." His voice was disturbing to listen to. "The only hit point that matters is the last one. Been more than two years since we used this tech."

I clenched my jaw. That would have been about when Aegis joined the Wards. I didn't know if there was actually a connection or if I was just connecting the grim form before me to the Ward's condition during the bank fight. That said, if Leet had based whatever tech Uber was using on Aegis I didn't enjoy the idea of having to fight it. It would be a frustrating and messy affair

Plus, if Leet's defense worked anything like he bragged then that would be an absolute nightmare to counter.

Would it be hypocritical to say that I hated fighting tinkers?

"Did you..." I put a round straight through the disk Leet was holding to his chest, cutting him off. Once again the wound and damage took the form of shattered cubic pixels that quickly reformed, but the effect was still clearly unpleasant.

Uber charged, causing me to painfully deflect the glowing sword with my forearm. There was more to the effect than just plasma, but my reinforcement was blocking the bulk of it. I doubt anyone else on this battlefield would have been able to survive a single hit. Even the brief contact left glowing streaks on my jacket like metal fresh from a foundry.

Two more shots drove the big cape back slightly and caused one of his remaining fields to flicker out. He pulled out a cylindrical object and took a flying dive towards his teammate before driving it into the ground. A sphere of hexagons sprang up around them that reflected my following shots.

Inside the bubble Leet began his taunts anew. "Didn't you find it strange how things just weren't going your way tonight? Big tough new tinker rides in with his super weapons, his best technology, and an agent of the Tripredacus Council," He said that last part with particular contempt. "but just can't seem to land a win. It's almost as if someone was working against you, rigging the game from the start."

Uber started adjusting what I assumed were his shield emitters. There was the sound of a capacitor charging and one of his failed barriers flickered back into existence around him. I cursed internally and drew the components for another Energize formula.

"Your new thinker?" This seemed like elementary mind games, but that would be out of character for these two. Actually, this night had pretty much thrown out every assumption about their character, so who could say what they were capable of.

A quick glance showed the rest of the fight wasn't going particularly well. There were enough rockets among the Henchmen that Fleet hadn't been able to manage an attack run. Meanwhile I watched Bakuda as she seemed focused on the voice in her ear. She launched a grenade blindly, only for Angelica to burst from a cloud of darkness almost on top of it. The monster dog skidded to a stop before dashing back into cover and just out of range of the blast.

I mixed the reagents for Energize and let the glowing mass flow into my pistol. Then I shifted my attention as my omni-tool chirped a notification.

"You have no idea what she's capable of." Uber looked up from a device on his belt to smirk at me, but his bravado faltered slightly as I fabricated five new drones from my recharged capacitor and sent them towards the shield. Still, he continued taunting in his wet, hollow voice. "The whole city's marching to her tune, they just don't know it yet."

I really hoped that was standard thinker bravado, the kind of blanket claims of control you get from inexperienced capes. There was no denying that this mess had been masterfully coordinated, at least outside Bakuda's slip ups, and even then there was the potential for the thinker to have a hand in things. Spoofing Tattletale was also concerning, but I still didn't have a good idea of how strong the girl's power actually was.

But doubting if every move you made was part of a thinker's plan could be as destructive as any manipulations you could be under. In the middle of a fight acting without a perfect plan is better than inaction. Gotta keep the momentum

"Yeah, right." I charged an Overload burst from my omni-tool as my drones circled the translucent sphere. I needed to put these two down fast and start backing up the Undersiders. "Just another thinker with delusions of completely controlling society from the shadows."

"You don't know." Leet finished checking the disk and switched it with the katana on his back. "You don't know anything. She does." He started laughing even as the electricity of my drone attacks danced over the shield. "I thought I was done, hopeless, but she knew how it works. How everything works!" His expression combined with the electric lightning really played up the mad scientist clichés.

My Overload and charged shot tore through the weakened shield with enough force to tear a fresh set of voxels from Leet's body, but the spindly tinker just tightened his grip on the katana and charged straight for me, screaming all the time. Two of my drones were shredded by mad swings and I directed the rest after Uber, who was quickly falling back to the henchmen.

"Tech trees have branches! Dead ends are opening up! It's changing, everything's changing and we're going to ride the front of this wave." He sort of leaped into the air, but it was jerky and awkward. It was clear he was being carried up by the sword and dragged along as it shot down for a brutal strike. Despite its relative gracelessness the action was blindingly quick and I barely had time to get out of the way as the blade struck the earth.

I had decent faith in my durability when facing conventional threats, but not against unknown tinker tech. I didn't know what that glowing sword was and I certainly didn't want to find out from firsthand experience. He pulled the blade up into a spin that I backed away from while letting the pistol gather energy. As he was dragged by the sword into another attack my energized shot caught him dead center, tearing a hole through his torso that dropped him to his knees. The damn sword stayed up and flailing in an attack formation, dragging it's wielder behind it even as he was reconstituted.

At that moment my motoroid dove out of the path of a fired rocket and, with the worst luck possible, directly onto one of Bakuda's lobbed grenades. That said, I was beginning to doubt how much of a role luck played in the actions of anyone connected to this new thinker. The grenade went up in a bloom of heat I could feel from halfway across the courtyard. It scrapped the entire left side and sent the motoroid spiraling out of the sky into the ground.

There went my air superiority. And given its performance in that role there's clearly a good reason for not generally equipping aircraft with melee weapons.

The impact must have damaged the magitek core because it was accompanied by a sudden flash of thaumic discharge. Incredibly every other cape in the area flinched and focused on the sparking wreckage in a motion so synchronized it was almost eerie.

Whatever they were focused on, it didn't matter to me. I drew a bead and put an energized shot directly into the glowing sword, wrenching it from Leet's grip and knocking the tinker down. With whatever entranced him broken he scrambled for another piece of gear, but repeated shots kept him from accomplishing anything. Even if they couldn't damage his bullshit defense, he had half the mass of Uber and lacked the big cape's exotic shielding. I drove round after round into the tinker. Hand, chest, chest, head, chest

I moved forward to close the distance and he pathetically scrambled, the pixel like damage repairing itself. Behind him Uber was working to reinforce Bakuda against the Undersiders. I hadn't been hearing the constant barrage of explosions that characterized her earlier fights. Apparently this thinker was interested in conserving ammo and taking shots effectively rather than throwing out everything they could in a display as much about showing off the bombs as taking out the target.

It meant the battle was being conducted a lot more effectively. The Undersiders weren't helped by the fact that they were at eighty percent strength with a third of their usual mobility options. Brian and Rachel were riding on Angelica while Tattletale and Taylor took advantage of the clouds of darkness. They were still badly out gunned and probably only saved by the fact that the henchmen hadn't joined in the fight.

"She was right." Leet spat. "It worked perfectly."

I moved to close the rest of the distance and flipped the tinker into a hold with my knee on his back. "And exactly what about this has worked?" A point blank shot into the disc accomplished nothing, merely spreading more reforming voxels and earning another muffled cry from Leet. In the distance a bomb went off that made my teeth itch and sent a few henchmen who were too close to the blast into epileptic fits. I pushed past the sensation and increased the pressure on Leet's back.

I could hear him laugh through the rubble his face was driven into. "She said you'd be mad enough to stay focused on us."

I froze. I didn't even need to ask what else I would have been focusing on. The henchmen had been working on something and thanks to Uber and Leet's sense of showmanship it was announced to the entire facility with an electronic voice. I had actually played the game it was referencing.

"Chronosphere ready."

They weren't reinforcements. They were a rescue attempt.

I put one last shot through Leet's head before jumping to my feet. The center of the courtyard had a baby version of the teleporter super weapon that I remembered from that game. It had split open and was spinning up and sparking. The only reason that it hadn't activated yet was Bakuda had decided to delay the plan. Though for the worst possible reason.

Past the henchmen recovering from tangential exposure to the seizure bomb was the real target, who appeared to have taken a direct hit. Bakuda loomed over Taylor's twitching form with the bowie knife drawn. The bomb tinker looked over at me and with a flourish brought the monomolecular weapon down towards the girl who carried the fate of the world in her hands.

Then her arm froze mid swing. Then flailed in the wrong direction. A chirp from Survey drew my attention to my display. A feed from a remaining drone showed a boy in a charred and tattered outfit approaching the courtyard. Regent was finally back. I was split between gratitude for saving Taylor's life and rage for allowing the situation to get this bad.

Bakuda made another attempt at a swing, but it just flailed her arm open. Uber called something from next to the chronosphere, but she tensed and made one last attempt.

The knife flew away.

With the tinker's hand still attached to it.

Bakuda stared at the bloody stump, then staggered back as the wind blade spun down, saving her head from being cleaved in half still catching a shallow cut that split her mask. The spider webs manipulating the knife were turning into bloody lines as it looped around for another pass, this time literally cutting her legs out from under her.

Uber rushed towards the crippled tinker and hauled her back from the flying knife. Bakuda was screaming a garbled mess of electronic profanity as she groped for something with her left hand. She then demonstrated why I hadn't defaulted to amputation the moment I learned about the control system.

With a single pull of some kind of release more than a dozen blinking grenades spilled out across the ground. Uber took one look at them, then hauled up the bleeding cape and made a mad sprint for the chronosphere. That left Taylor surrounded by Bakuda's last resort bombs while still convulsing helplessly on the ground.

I desperately fished out the only formula that had a hope of letting her survive that mess. There was a single effect that provided a stronger defense than the invulnerability of my Barrier formula. I combined two pieces of wax with a quartz crystal and sent the formula flying towards the girl. Simultaneously there was a brilliant flash from the direction of the henchmen and an electric voice called out.

"Warning, chronosphere activated!"

I watched a flickering distortion expand from the device to encompass the crowd of capes and henchmen. Everything it touched faded and vanished from the facility. The flashing of red lights on Bakuda's grenades accelerated as the last of the reinforcements disappeared and my alchemy crossed the final distance to Taylor's prone form. The Stop formula reached her just before the explosions started.

The blasts were so rapid and clustered that it was hard to pick out the individual detonations and effects. There was a plume of brownish red fog that was dispersed by a column of fire that shot a good forty feet into the air. Electricity tore into the sky, but spread like a growing tree instead of a normal discharge. The bolts shot up, froze in place, then sprouted new tendrils of lightning that repeated the process. On the surface deep gouges were being cut through the ground like a twenty foot area was being cleaved randomly by a giant invisible axe. A radius of rubble transformed into glass before being liquidated by the heat of the column of flame. I felt what seemed like a repeat of the splash of that seizure bomb, only turned all the way up to eleven.

The cacophony only lasted a few seconds, but the intensity made it feel like hours. Finally the effects of the detonations started to vanish. The column of fire pulled itself into the air and dispersed. The lightning tree stopped growing new branches and faded out of existence. The tearing of the ground ceased and the smoke cleared. All that was left was Taylor's frozen form above a pool of molten glass.

I had to get to her before that formula wore off.

Wading through that pool of red hot molten silica was a unique experience and one I wouldn't recommend, even for a person with ridiculous thermal resistance. Taylor was suspended maybe a foot over a crater filled with a shallow pool of liquid glass. Trudging through it, well it wasn't like water. Imagine someone filled a kiddy pool with cold molasses that hardened slightly every time you pulled your foot up.

I knew there were only seconds left before the Stop formula ran its course. Fortunately I was able to reach Taylor before that point. She was horizontal over the pool, still contorted mid seizure. The frozen wind blade hung in the air next to her, bloody spider-webs trailing from it like a macabre puppet show.

I had no idea how she maintained any control over it during her seizure. It looked like she was lashing out instinctively, but I got the impression that controlling the blade took serious focus and coordination. Still, I had bigger concerns right now than the details of her power.

I kneeled down in the glass to catch her before the effect ended, then moved as quickly as I could to lift her away from the heat of the molten material. Despite my best efforts of fighting against the hardening material a few locks of hair brushed the pool and burned away. I rushed her to the edge of the rapidly solidifying pool, a task easier said than done with her in the midst of an epileptic fit, and began channeling my nanites. The knife whipped behind us as we moved like a kite.

As soon as she was clear of the pool I caught the still flailing wind knife by the blade, brushed off the bloody spider webs, and sheathed it. I needed to focus entirely on the nanites.

Her brain was a mess. That bomb, whatever it was, didn't trigger a seizure, it induced a full, permanent case of epilepsy. There was all kinds of interesting damage my nanites were trying to sort out, a situation not made easier by her stupidly active corona pollentia.

Hers was lodged into her frontal lobe, typical for masters, and was lit up like a Christmas tree. Okay, she was having a seizure so her whole brain was lit up, but the corona pollentia was running so hot I was afraid it would explode. There was a gradual calming effect as the rest of the damage was repaired, but the corona pollentia was like a separate creature, and one my nanites couldn't perfectly interface with. Whatever Bakuda had done I could only hope it would be able sort itself out on its own.

I looked up from my healing to find the rest of the Undersiders clustered around me, though still giving me a healthy amount of space. That is, barring Regent, who was still hanging back for obvious reasons. With the immediate crisis dealt with I suddenly had the chance to fully appreciate the magnitude of the fuckup that had just been perpetuated.

Fuck. God fucking damn it. It was even worse than before. Bakuda had dropped the knife that I could have used to track her. I had a sense of the blade on the other side of the crater, probably blown free before the more destructive effects set in. The sheath was just gone, likely dropped and incinerated. Damn it, if we left when I suggested I would at least know where their base of operations was. Maybe launched an attack when I was better prepared.

Survey drew my attention to the sky above the courtyard. In the aftermath of the teleportation and bomb blasts a single piece of technology was standing out like a sore thumb. A damaged camera drone of Leet's design floated unsteadily above the rubble. From my readings it looked like it had started going through some kind of emergency shutdown and wipe as soon as it was detected. The signal cut off before anything could be determined about its source, but I fried its systems before it could completely self-destruct. That was something, I guess.

Oh, there's a nice distraction from my failure. A Celestial Forge connection and my second mote from the Magic constellation. Don't know why it's called Maliwan Intern of all things, but it gave me incredible mastery of elemental weapons, both in terms of power and control. That would have been very useful if it arrived anytime earlier in this fight.

Oh, it even gave me the skills to create technological versions of some of the elemental effects I'd been making with my runes. That was interesting, and fairly useful. Also the elemental mastery portion covered all weapons, including my omni-tool. Once again, would have been useful at any earlier point, but that could be said about pretty much all of my powers.

Grue cleared his throat, which brought my attention back to the Undersiders. "Uh, about how this went down..." he petered off, seemingly at a loss for how to proceed. He glared over at Regent, then looked across the devastation of the battle's aftermath, then just seemed to give up. Frankly I was right there with him. With the immediate threat gone and a moment of peace the reality of the situation was sinking in. I couldn't find an element of this operation that hadn't needed a drastic amount of improvement. This was a damn disaster.

I looked at the vacant ground that was the former location of Leet's chronosphere. Simple silica based glass that had started to cool enough to become brittle crumbled from my arms and legs as I drew up Survey's scans of the event, but I didn't have enough information to discern the effect that was used, let alone determine the target location. I looked from Taylor's resting form to Tattletale. She seemed to pick up my meaning.

"I have no idea where they went." That admission seemed to hurt her, but I still resented my last hope of turning this around being squashed. "I have some guesses on Uber and Leet, but the new thinker's throwing everything off. The ABB, well there are some front businesses I know about, but they won't be using them to regroup from something like this." She swallowed and looked down at Taylor. "Is she alright? I can't see anything wrong, but..."

"Corona pollentia's overworked." I clarified. I took a deep breath and pushed my frustration at the botched mission aside. "It's causing some kind of strain. I've fixed everything else, but I think she needs rest."

I looked past Tattletale to where people were beginning to emerge from the broken cover of the storage facility. A few more shards of brittle glass fell from me as I quickly checked my omni-tool. The conscripts were still alive. Well, the ones that had survived Bakuda's unfriendly fire and summary executions were alive. At least Bakuda hadn't yet bled out. She did have Uber with her, so that was perfect medical technique on demand. She was also apparently impaired enough that she hadn't just detonated them out of spite.

There would be time for self-recrimination later. At this moment I had a chance to make a difference.

I stood up to the tinkling sound of the remaining glass shards snapping and falling free and pushed past Tattletale. The looks of fear on the faces of the conscripts that greeted my action were more than a little disheartening, but all together understandable. I took a breath and called out across the rubble.

"Bakuda is gone." The words echoed out to a mix of emotions on the faces of the forced recruits. "She fled and was badly injured. For the moment she can't detonate any of your bombs." There was a stirring at those words. "I don't know if her wounds will be fatal, but right now you have a chance. Your best chance to be free of this. Stand down and I might be able to get those bombs out of your heads."

I was met with looks of absolute shock, and not just from the conscripts. Brian moved towards Tattletale and the two had a muttered conversation with a concerned tone. Rachel looked stoic, but was running a hand across Angelica's armored flank in a way that was probably giving more comfort to her than the monster dog. The conscripts were gaping at each other, seemingly at a loss. Probably waiting for someone to step forward and give them direction. Across the courtyard Alec just shrugged at the announcement.

Then the shot rang out.

The caliber of the weapon wasn't even enough to make me flinch as it bounced off my cowl. I turned slowly to see a tall man in ABB colors holding a glock. He was sporting the bruises and cuts of the rest of the conscripts, but the smattering of burns identified him as one of Bakuda's right hand men, last seen in person when I had set him on fire.

The gun was held in a shaking grip and he had a look of pure rage plastered across his face. "Fuck you!" Honestly, I was kind of stunned. I understood his anger, but what did he think he could accomplish here? What kind of Dutch courage was holding this guy together? "You think you've won? You think this will stop us? We're the ABB. We're going to own this city. Everyone here knows it. They're ABB now and you're nothing."

More of the conscripts were moving forward at the man's words. This was really not the type of direction I was hoping for them to receive. I saw weapons being gripped and an older man in a scorched and tattered set of janitor's coveralls walked up to stand by the ABB lieutenant. The gang member smiled at him and turned back to me.

"See? These people are with us forever!"

Then the man in coveralls raised a small pistol and shot the lieutenant in the head.

The entire facility went silent as the gang member crumpled like a sack of potatoes. The man in the coveralls put the safety on his weapon, put it away, and pointed a finger at me.

"You start with the children."

Well, I wasn't going to argue with that. From the looks of things that was the push the conscripts needed to start organizing themselves. It also imposed enough order to prevent some kind of mad rush at my promise.

I missed a connection to the Alchemy constellation as I considered the new situation. Maintaining order would be a problem. I didn't know if Bakuda was going to hit a mass detonator as a departing 'fuck you' as soon as she was capable of the action, but I wouldn't put it past her. We had to assume we were working on limited time here. The conscripts knew it and would no doubt start fighting over position once surgery started.

Right, surgery. I was reasonably certain I could handle this. When it came to disarming the bombs I was probably the best person for that task on the planet. Between my omni-tool and diagnostic tools I could pick apart functions of the devices like no one else. My Deranged Alchemist power meant I at least knew my way around a scalpel, even if those talents weren't exactly up for brain surgery.

I could manage the disarming and removal, but I couldn't keep order at the same time. My motoroid could have helped with that, but it was scrapped. As I glanced at the crash site there was another burst of thaumic sparks. Every one of the Undersiders flinched in response and turned towards the wreckage. Even Taylor made a jerky motion before settling back to unconsciousness.

That was a bit concerning and I should definitely investigate it once I didn't have a queue of bomb surgeries to manage.

Turning back to the group I saw that Regent had wandered over and was holding a safe distance while acting as nonchalant as possible. Quite the accomplishment considering Bitch was staring daggers, Angelica was growling, and Grue looked like he wanted to deck the boy. Tattletale seemed conflicted on how to act, and for my own part I would have been happy to join them.

As much as I wanted to lay into Alec for ruining the plan and letting Bakuda get away I didn't feel like that would accomplish much. Especially not when I was working under an unknown time limit. Alec also didn't seem like the type of person who would respond to being chewed out, so other than letting me vent my frustration what was I going to accomplish? I wasn't even on his team. It would just be a waste of time that I couldn't spare.

I grit my teeth and stepped towards Grue. "I'm going to need you to put this on hold until we deal with the current mess."

I could see the tension dancing through his form as he processed my words. "What, are you okay with what he did? With how this went down?" His voice was a low whisper made extra unsettling by the reverb from his darkness.

"Fuck no." I whispered back. "This is a disaster. But the only way we can keep it from being a complete disaster is to deal with the conscripts." I turned to Tattletale. "Tell me, Bakuda wakes up and decides to hit the detonator for everyone here. What happens then?"

The girl pulled her gaze from Regent and processed things. "The PRT will report them as civilians killed in a clash between the ABB and the Undersiders." She looked at me. "And Apeiron, I suppose. Threat assessment and response measures will be stepped up. Worst case scenario if someone in the governor's office doesn't like us we could end up lumped in with whatever kill order gets issued to Bakuda."

Brian rocked at the news. "But, that... We didn't have anything to do with that. We couldn't have stopped it."

"We could have left." I interjected. "If we bailed when I suggested these people wouldn't be under a ticking clock right now."

"Are you saying this is our fault?" Rachel practically growled at me. Next to her Angelic literally growled at me.

"We chose to get involved and stay involved. You rush into a hostage situation and you need to take responsibility for the effects of your actions. Congratulations, you're on the other side of the bank job, only you don't have a PR machine to smooth things over."

Brian lowered his head. "If Regent hadn't..."

"Everyone fucked up tonight. We can figure out the serving size later." Grue hadn't exactly been focusing on obstruction of Bakuda's firing lines. His clouds of darkness had been placed for maximum showmanship. Bitch had been more focused on inflicting pain than any clear objective. I'd already covered the magnitude of Tattletale's fuckup, and if Taylor had held back I might have been able to disrupt the escape instead of covering her. And all that was only scratching the surface of my own errors and missed opportunities. "Can you keep your shit together long enough for us to pull some damage control?"

He tensed and looked around. "The Protectorate..."

"Not coming." Tattletale clarified. "Whatever's happening in the city has them stressed to the breaking point. This is bad and we're only at the edge of it."

"We could still be looking at a PRT squad, or just the cops."

"If they show up they can take over. It won't be our responsibility anymore." I checked my fabrication capacitor and sent five new drones into the air. A wave of tension spread through the conscripts, but died down as the orbs rose away from them into the night. "That will give us advanced warning of anyone inbound and give us eyes on the area."

Brian glanced to Tattletale, who nodded, then to Regent, who gave him a shrug. I felt an urge to deck the smaller cape, but bit down on it. I couldn't afford this kind of conflict now.

"Look, you know the bill that's headed for you after tonight?" Brian actually flinched at that. "Well, let's call this a down payment. I need help with this, so I'm hiring the Undersiders. Time and a half on what you would normally get for a job like this, but we need to start now."

The reminder of his financial obligations seemed to punch through his resistance. I had a rough guess of what their take was from the average job, but also a rough idea of how much they owed me for tonight. I could almost see the numbers being crunched inside his head, mostly presented as a cloud of dread that suffused his body. The chance to chip away at a piece of that looming debt was enough to bring Brian around.

He took a breath. "Okay, as a job." He looked over the conscripts, specifically at the younger members who were being shuffled forward. "Can you really do that? Get the bombs out of their heads?"

I nodded. "I should be able to handle anything she set up. The surgery shouldn't be a problem. As for the triggers..." I made a flippant gesture. Other than her deadman's signal I hadn't been overly impressed. I knew I was leagues better at mechanics and electronics than Bakuda could ever dream of being. She might be able to create impressive and exotic explosives but she was clearly working with support systems to facilitate her work, not as her driving focus. Limits of being a chaos tinker.

"Tattletale can probably help you with that."

The thinker nodded. "My power can help spot things, types of bombs, medical issues. I can assist." She didn't look thrilled about it, but pushed through.

Grue was settling back into the leadership role he was so comfortable with. "Me, Bitch, and... Regent." He tensed, then continued. "Can manage the crowd and keep watch." He looked down at Taylor. "Is she going to be alright?"

I took a breath. I was in new territory on this one, but was hopeful of the result. "I've fixed as much as I can. I think she just needs rest."

"Hey," I turned to Tattletale. "That thing you used? It was a time stop effect? Like Clockblocker?"

I nodded. "Basically. More limited and doesn't last as long, and has a kind of pseudo Manton Effect, but the results are similar."

She looked like she really wanted to ask follow up questions, but just exchanged a worried look with Grue and gave a slight nod.

"Excellent." Everyone turned to Regent. Most of them were glaring. "Let's get this party started."

"Fuck you."

Alec turned towards Bitch and made a mock gesture of offence. "You heard him, gotta save the innocents."

"What the hell were you trying out there?" Brian practically barked, and I got the sense it was only my presence that was saving Alec from a thrashing.

Regent shrugged again, but it was a lot less irreverent. "It just seemed like the thing to do." His voice was distant and hollow and for a second I could see the empty eyes that greeted me when I walked into that smoke choked locker. Then the façade of irreverence was back.

Fuck, Alec was not alright. None of these people were, but he was apparently better at hiding it than the rest of them.

"Did you even manage anything?" Tattletale's voice was both frustrated and for some reason hopeful.

"If I had another five minutes, maybe less." He shrugged, though with a bit more emotion than last time. "Haven't gotten lost in it like that for a long time."

"Since when does that happen?" Grue asked.

"It doesn't." Tattletale interjected. "It shouldn't anymore." She was actually looking fairly concerned. "But five minutes. That means one more appearance by Bakuda..."

"If she even gives us that chance."

I didn't like being left out of the loop. By the looks of things Rachel was also in the dark and enjoyed the state to roughly the same degree as I did. We shared a sympathetic glance at what we had to deal with.

"I probably would have stuck with it if something hadn't distracted me." He looked towards my crashed motoroid, which elicited a series of reluctant nods from the rest of the Undersiders. At that moment the wreck emitted another shower of thaumic sparks causing the entire group and Taylor to flinch.

"So tell me, is that thing powered by Hell, or what?"

I considered Regent's question. The magitek apparatus was stable enough, but it was drawing from an embedded call bead and the core had clearly taken some damage. The bead was unaligned, but it did connect to the shared space of the passengers. I wouldn't really classify that as any mythological realm, but it was seriously alien and passengers did keep data from the capes they were connected to. Even without an inside look you could see that in Butcher and the Fairy Queen. I guess if you stretched the definition...

"Fuck."

Grue's exclamation brought me out of my musings. "What?"

"Ok, 'is your motorcycle powered by Hell?' is not the kind of question that should take any level of contemplation to answer."

I turned towards Regent. "Well, it's not exactly Hell."

The entire group just gaped at me in response. "Well, there's a new item for the list of 'scariest things your tinker can say'."

I wasn't thrilled about their reaction to my magitek drive, but it at least seemed to get their minds off internal group conflict for a moment. "Look, I'll deal with the bike. Can you start sorting things out over here?"

"Yeah, sure. You do that." There were more than a few unsteady glances towards the wreckage as I went. I left Grue to manage things and finally had a chance to check on the status of my downed Motoroid.

It was bad, but not a total write off. Okay, it might have been without my Mechanic power that specifically let me rebuild from devastating crashes. On a more important note the magitek core was still intact. The call bead wasn't in good shape. Even if I got this fixed I'd barely have enough power to get home in motorcycle mode. No more flying tonight.

A lot of the support systems were damaged or just gone. That thermal blast had been no joke. Bakuda was probably shocked there was anything left to crash afterwards, but the hyper alloy had held out pretty well. Fleet wasn't processing anymore, but the memory drive was intact so none of the night's development had been lost. I powered down the core, put the systems in safety mode, and generally stabilized the situation to the best of my ability.

The Celestial Forge made a connection to a small mote in the Toolkits constellation. This was another workshop, but there was a particular element to it. Like how there's been a connection between the Master Builder and Science! powers there was a connection between this workshop and Grease Monkey, the first serious technical power I had.

This workshop was designed to allow me to build or repair absolutely anything that was possible under Grease Monkey, which was basically all the cyberpunk technology you could ever want. My skills had improved and expanded tremendously since then, but it was still miles better than everything I owned, with the possible exception of my nanofabricator. This would make new projects so much easier in the future.

It also included a studio apartment. Somewhat rundown, but given what I was used to probably a major step up. It also meant I would be able to clear out all my crap from the entryway.

I put that out of my mind and hurried back. That man in coveralls had organized a rough line of the youngest members of the conscripts waiting for my first attempt at surgery. Grue was working with the crowd to keep a semblance of order, helped largely by the presence of Rachel on Angelica's back. Regent had recruited some of the more mobile conscripts to start collecting equipment from around the facility. Though he didn't seem to have any enthusiasm for it he was able to pick out various lost or trapped members of the ABB forces, possibly through whatever senses his power granted him.

Tattletale had set up a rough attempt at a field hospital. The bedding seemed to be salvaged or donated coats, but she had lighting and some other odd pieces of equipment on hand. Taylor was laid out on another improvised cot nearby. As I approached she dismissed other Undersiders away and moved to meet me.

"You've never done this before? Surgery?"

There wasn't much point lying to her. "No, but I can handle it. I know I can, and we don't have much choice."

She glanced across the crowd of children and nodded grimly. They were only three or four years younger than her, but that didn't really matter in this situation. She shook her head and pressed on. "Look, I... I don't know what your power is doing, but I can tell it's seriously affecting you. How you acted tonight..." She paused before continuing. "Are you going to be okay?"

I let out a breath. "With this, or in general?" She gave me a flat look. "I'm managing. I have a system. It's not something we need to get into now." Hurray for the regulating power of quarters and pickle jars.

The thinker swallowed, but relented and led me to the improvised surgery bed. "They're ordered by age. I'll help as much as I can. The bombs aren't really inside their heads, Bakuda wasn't sawing through skulls with that number of surgeries. Top of the neck, just underneath the skull. Almost no variation in placement."

"Amateurish. And a hack job. Look at that scarring." The middle school girl on the surgical bed tensed at the words and I stopped talking. Instead I pulled up my omni-tool interface.

"Can that handle surgery?" Tattletale's eyes were glowing again.

"No. Well, not the way it's set up now. I need some tools for this."

This was it. I could finally get started on the surgeries. I'd been half terrified everyone's head was going to explode while I got everything set up and talked people around. Now I just needed to get my damn equipment ready.

She watched as I entered the fabrication program. My work on a new item was glacial when compared to modification or repairs of existing equipment. It's why I wasn't just churning out gear for the Undersiders in the middle of the fight. The omni-tool was pretty much freshly issued with limited features activated. If I had been able to spend a day experimenting with it this night would have gone very differently.

I pushed those thoughts away for now. There would be plenty of time to ponder all my mistakes later. Right now I needed surgical and mechanical tools.

While I wasn't at the point of designing new equipment mid combat, the hybridization with my micromanipulator greatly increased the speed and detail of entering parameters. Survey was also more developed now and was able to help with the process.

I had to work around the non-optional nature of my Workaholic power, but that just meant scaling down everything. The size boost also meant I could fabricate surgical trays, basins, and other items that should have been beyond the limits of my omni-tool.

Tattletale, and in fact everyone present, watched wide eyes as the improvised medical station was filled in with professional grade and beautifully made equipment. It was an impressive display, but I wasn't done.

There was no question that Bakuda had booby trapped these bombs against removal. I could probably work around that, but there was no reason to make things harder for myself than they needed to be. I picked up a custom designed scalpel and an engraving tool.

I had never dealt with water runes before. Most of their applications were fairly mundane. Fluid strikes, flexible weapons, or blasts of water following your attacks. It would be significantly less impressive than the other elements. That is, if not for the fact that the human body was mostly water. So if you wanted to deal bleeding or festering injuries then water runes were the way to go.

My runecraft has snuck up in power when I wasn't looking, feeding off every design and crafting power to incrementally increase its potency. It was an advantage I'd overlooked, but with my new mastery of elemental weapons it wasn't one I could practically ignore any more.

I was making a blood scalpel. On its own this weapon would have been able to turn a tiny nick in the skin into an arterial spray. Despite its tiny size the scalpel was perfectly attuned to this function, an effect even further amplified by my customizations. When I drew the engraving tool across the scalpel I was able to etch detailed water sigils as easily as signing my name. The item actually glowed red in my hand when the final mark was added to the tip of the blade.

My diagnostic tools and scanner had been able to locate the device in the girl's neck. She tensed as she lay face down, ready for the incision. Then the incision came and she gave no response.

High level elemental control of a masterwork blood weapon meant I could make the body essentially ignore the wound. There wasn't even a drop spilled as I made the first cut and it went completely unnoticed by the patient.

Guided by the readings from my scanner I carefully entered the incision with my mechanical tools. This the girl did feel, but Tattletale sat down next to her and worked to keep her calm. I was half blindly disarming a tinker tech bomb embedded next to the brain of a middle schooler. It should have been insanely stressful, but I was drawing upon more technical knowledge than any person in history. It turned what would have been a harrowing guessing game into a set of rote tasks.

Block transmitter. Bypass detection trigger. Disable primary fuse assembly. Halt countdown of secondary assemble. Divert power to short out biometric detection systems. Extract device.

With a clink a small metal object the size of a walnut dropped into the surgical tray. I placed a gloved hand on the girl's back and activated my nanites. Blue lines spread across the girl, perfectly sealing the incision without Bakuda's sloppy scarring and patching up every scrape, bruise, and minor injury of the night.

The girl was crying and clinging to Tattletale as the thinker helped her to her feet. A woman rushed in from the now dead silent crowd and enveloped the girl in a massive hug while speaking to her in what sounded like Korean.

It was a touching moment, but one that could easily spark trouble. Murmurs were spreading through the crowd and I was seeing motion from further back. If they started rushing me for bomb extraction this whole thing would fall apart.

Luckily a combination of the naturally intimidating nature of Brian and Rachel combined with some very angry words from the man in coveralls seemed to impose a sense of order. I shared a glance with Tattletale and she nodded before bringing forward the next middle school aged ABB conscript.

It was a unique surgical setup. I was doing my best to convey a sense of professionalism, but my training was from the days when pharmaceutical commercials were telling people to ask their doctor 'Is snake oil right for you?'. It was light on medical sanitation and bedside manner. My nanites meant infections were a complete non-concern, but no one liked being operated on with bloody tools.

This led to me making a dramatic show of sterilizing everything with jets of plasma between patients. Maliwan Intern gave me precise control of my omni-tool's thermal output and the display seemed to reassure the patients.

People were also picking up on the fact that everyone leaving the 'surgical center' was completely devoid of so much as a skinned knee no matter the state they had been in to start. That led to a heated discussion over triage. There were some serious injuries to manage, including some who were not safe to move. I deferred the decision to Brian so I could maintain my surgical pace without distractions. I hadn't encountered anything I couldn't manage between Tattletale's powers and my own sensors, but every one of the bombs had a different configuration of triggers and components to contend with.

Fucking chaos tinkers.

After the last of the middle schoolers had their bombs extracted I left to deal with the more serious injuries. It was a harrowing tour of the consequences of collateral damage and demonstrated just how much my overly flashy strikes had contributed to the injured. If I had come in with more of a plan, better equipment, or...

No, not the time for that. I pushed on my tour of the too injured to be moved, which happened to be conducted from the back of Angelica. If you want to make a striking appearance you can't do much better than a rhino dog the size of a bull moose. Rachel was 'driving' and may have slightly contributed to the level of intimidation. Her mood wasn't being helped by fact that Regent had coordinated the search for the injured.

"You shouldn't have to do this."

They were the first words she spoke to me since we began our tour. I had just climbed back onto Angelica with less grace than I would have preferred after dealing with a pair of partially buried businessmen who wouldn't have been able to keep their legs without the help of nanotech healing.

I looked at the back of her head as we rode to the next location Regent had flagged. "We've covered this. The PRT will nail us for any civilian casualties. They'll be looking for any excuse to increase the heat." I looked across the facility where the recently healed were making their way back to the main crowd.

"It's not our fault. We should just go, let them deal with it." There was an exhausted and hollow edge to her voice. I had the sense that feel good charity work was an unfamiliar experience for her if the beneficiaries weren't four legged and fluffy.

"Look, what's happening tonight? It's bad." I pulled up my omni-tool again. Cell towers were still up, independent power systems were mandated for communication networks in the age of Endbringers. There wasn't a lot of information on what was happening in Brockton with several states being dark, but what I'd gleaned was general chaos, violence, borderline riots, and actions from every criminal gang. "We pull this off then even if we let Bakuda get away…" I saw Rachel's back tense at that. Frankly I was right there with her, and at least she didn't end up being fooled by Uber and Leet at the last minute. "then we'll probably come through looking better than anyone else in the east coast."

Rachel let out a huff. I guess public perception wasn't high on her priorities.

"Also, the bombs I'm pulling are the best chance we have of tracking her down and countering her technology." I looked over the destruction. "I'm not letting this happen again."

Rachel may have nodded or may have just dropped her head. Either way we finished the tour in silence.

On the way back the Celestial Forge made another connection to a workshop addition from the Toolkits constellation, and this one was complicated. It gave another room of living space and some more workshop area. Said workshop was a medical center specialized in cyborg disassembly and repair. It had a huge amount of supporting equipment, medications, spare parts, and even a 3D fabricator. Unfortunately it gave no additional medical knowledge or experience and I couldn't exactly open my workshop in the middle of a ruined storage facility.

The addition also came with weapons, an heirloom blade that had been maintained for generations, and a God damn rocket hammer. The latter would be completely useless and probably a liability, but this addition to my workshop came with additional knowledge. I suddenly had solid theoretical and practical experience in a school of martial arts.

What school was it? Weaponized Tai Chi. That flowy stuff that old people do in parks on Sunday mornings? I know how to use that to fight. Specifically I knew how to use it to fight cyborgs, which basically amounted to hit fast and get the hell out. The style did serve quite well when it came to directing a rocket spike at the end of a stick, so the new weapon wasn't a total waste.

Putting aside the martial arts, the pure insanity of how I got these powers was a little frustrating. I spent a huge amount of time dancing around a cramped workshop, only to get a barrage of additions in a single day. I had gone from barely having spillover space to being able to access an entire multi-room apartment next to my heavily expanded workshop. There really was no reason to how these played out.

As we approached the medical area I spotted Tattletale rushing out to meet us. I slid off the back of Angelica with a lot more grace than when I left, the benefits of my new Tai Chi expertise. That earned me a concerned look from the thinker. Rachel just glanced between us before huffing and directing the giant dog back to her patrol route.

"We've got a problem."

Of all the problems I'd considered this wasn't high on the list of possibilities. Taylor was still in a fitful state of unconsciousness, but apparently her power was going strong. A swarm of bugs had been drawn from every direction and was massing around her. More were coming every second, and given that this was at least supposed to be a medical area no one was looking comfortable with the situation.

"She's been calling them in her sleep. I haven't been able to wake her up, and if this keeps up we're not going to be able to manage the crowd, much less surgery."

She was right. I could spot people clearly near the breaking point, particular near the back of the crowd. They were flinching in response to every brush with a moth or fly as a constant low density stream flowed towards Taylor.

"If we can't wake her up we'll have to move her somewhere safe, and safe is not an easy thing to come by at the moment."

I nodded. "Right. Let me deal with the bugs, then I'll see if there's anything I can do."

"How are..." Brian fell silent as I drew a formula from my pouches.

Most alchemy is pretty limited when it comes to splitting it over multiple targets. They all have to be in my field of view, there's a hard cap of three targets, and the power gets severely gutted. One formula is different. I combined three drams of water with a mushroom and activated my Corrosion formula.

This formula is pathetically weak compared to the rest of my alchemy, only slowly breaking down the target over a period of time. Two things keep it from being useless. For one, the damage is fundamentally impossible to resist. It might be a pittance of injuries, but it would punch through Endbringer tier durability like nothing. The other advantage was the unlimited number of targets.

This formula was effectively 'fuck everyone I don't like'. It didn't matter that there were thousands of insects in the area, every one of them got hit equally. While the damage would be petty on larger targets against small creatures it was a near instant death sentence. Within seconds the buzzing of insects was gone and only dust remained.

I got the sense Grue was gaping at me again, but decided to ignore him and check on Taylor. I reached out and extended my nanites. I did not like digging into someone's brain, but with Panacea's limitations I was probably the only person who could manage something like this.

Taylor's corona pollentia was still highly active, but not like it had been before. There was some disruption in the neural tissue around it that had built up since the last time I healed her. I trusted my nanites to manage that while trying not to mess anything up. Within a few seconds she was starting to stir. I pulled back and turned to Tattletale.

"I think she'll be alright. Can you take it from here?" The thinker nodded slowly and moved forward with Brian to help the groggy girl up.

I saw Regent approaching me. I bit down on my irritation and turned to face him. "Hey, Chen says they're ready to start again when you are."

"Chen?" Alec gestured to the man in scorched coveralls who had put down Bakuda's lieutenant. He was coordinating a group of similar looking blue collar workers to try to keep some order to the queue. It looked like we were moving on to the older teenagers, which made up a significant portion of the conscripts, but there were some conflicts over that.

Strangely, they seemed to be coming mostly from the new arrivals who I had healed on my tour with Rachel. It was like there was a different character to them than the rest of the group, and more than just being pulled back from a near fatal injury would explain. It was a kind of determined, high energy agitation. And I had seen it before. I had seen it tonight.

"Fuck."

The assembled Undersiders turned to me. "What?" Brian asked while still helping Taylor sit up.

"It's all my fault." I mean, I knew there was blame to go around, but I didn't think this much of it would fall to me.

"I'm sorry?" He tried again.

"This whole mess. Bakuda getting away. It's on me."

There were some confused looks until Regent broke the silence.

"Hey, if he wants to take responsibility..."

"Shut. Up." Grue cut him off and turned to me. "What are you talking about?"

"It was my healing." There were some near panicked expressions forming and I quickly clarified. "It worked too well."

"Sorry, what?" Even Tattletale was looking confused. I shook my head and continued.

"That healing? It fixes everything. Everything down to a cellular level." Tattletale's eyebrows rose, but she let me continue. "Not just damage. Exhaustion, nutrition, even regular wear. It can take someone worn to the brink and bring them back to full strength."

"Okay, but I'm not seeking how that's bad." Grue glanced between his teammates. The penny seemed to drop for Tattletale.

"It doesn't deal with mental or hormonal effects, does it?" I shook my head. Brian looked to her for clarification. "If you're swimming in adrenaline, cortisol, stress based chemicals they're designed to keep you going through pain and damage. You restore everything to a hundred percent while keeping that mix in your system, it'd be a hell of a trip. Fuck, we didn't even notice."

Neither had I. I'd only messed with nanite healing on this scale once before, and that ended with me almost killing myself with life fibers. This was 3 am thinking brought forward by six hours thanks to overclocking your body. God damn, no wonder they hadn't wanted to retreat.

So, how much of this was my own mistakes, how much was impaired judgment, and how much was manipulation from that new thinker? This whole line of questioning was something we didn't have time for.

"What, like meth or something?" Brian was looking seriously agitated.

"No, it's not like meth." Regent was looking contemplative and his tone had the unfortunate suggestion he was speaking from experience. "Less pronounced. It's like a natural high mixed on top of stress. Probably why we didn't notice."

"Did you know this could happen?"

I turned to Tattletale. "I only went through something like this once before. I decided to try an experiment afterwards." Brian's head snapped up. "It didn't go well."

"Anything we should be worried about? I mean, long term."

Both Tattletale and I shook our heads. I let her answer. "It's more of an unfamiliar sensation than a drug. Still can affect judgment, but frankly the same could be said for any medical treatment."

Brian took a moment to process things, but seemed to accept the assessment. He looked at me. "You wanted us out of here. Did you know?"

I shook my head. "Not precisely. It was more of an instinct."

Brian nodded then turned back to the group. "Tattletale, is Khepri doing alright?" She was going to answer, but apparently Taylor was cognizant enough to make a vaguely affirmative gesture with one hand. "Great, then..."

"Right." She sighed. "Back to surgery."

I put the mental effects of my healing out of my mind and fell back into a routine of countering Bakuda's sadistic project. Every bomb had its own little quirks that meant I had to stay precisely focused. It was a frustrating mix of busy work and puzzle solving. Every time I thought I'd seen every possible combination of countermeasures, contingency triggers, and detections systems some new insanity would present itself.

It was nothing beyond my abilities, but the process remained just challenging enough to be frustrating without being engaging. Imagine having to solve an endless series of placemat mazes if one mistake would result in someone dying. Nothing you couldn't handle, but after the twentieth one it loses any appeal and just becomes a trial.

The only upside to the endeavor, aside from all the lives I was saving which was a good and noble thing and service to the community, etcetera, etcetera, was the variety of bombs I was amassing. I had hoped to thoroughly loot the facility after we captured Bakuda. Things hadn't worked out that way, and my own actions had led to the destruction of most of what I could have salvaged. I was down to a couple of pieces of discarded Leet tech, whatever bombs hadn't been triggered when they were buried in rubble, and the growing pile of cranial mines.

Given the variety on display that was still enough to not count the night as a total loss. There was a titanic assortment of technology on display. Some of the bombs were enhanced conventional explosives, or high tech versions of exotic ordinance like chemical, biological, or thermal weapons. However, a significant portion of them were based on more exotic properties, and they were all mine.

It was odd seeing a device that could alter the fundamental fabric with a triggering mechanism that could have been assembled from the remains of a toaster oven, but that was what you got with chaos tinkers. The conflicting technologies didn't matter to me, only the exotic effects. I actually let out a cheer when I finally found a miniaturized time stop bomb in the neck of an accountant. He took it as enthusiasm for his sake, and I wasn't about to correct that impression.

When I took a break to deal with the pile of bombs I felt the Celestial Forge make another connection, this time to the Quality Constellation. The power was called Tailor Made and it was an aesthetic power nearly as significant as Beauty in the Arts. Yes, it improved my skills as a designer to make beautiful objects, but its unique effect was far more significant. It completely removed the time and effort involved in design work or aesthetic construction. I could make the most detailed, engraved, immaculately carved object with the same time and effort it would take to churn out a standardized model.

Effectively everything I made was now being treated as if I had taken all the time in the world in its design and adornment. Given the upper level of what my design work was capable of it produces some absolutely incredible work.

Case in point, the cases in this point. Okay, bad pun but the cases I decided to churn out with my omni-tool to hold the small pile of bombs manifested like the pinnacle of a luggage maker's life work. I had to ignore the openmouthed expressions as I packed away the bombs and got back to surgery.

So it was, after dozens of surgeries, I found myself working on the very last conscript. It had been a hell of an experience. The number of near complete families that had been dragged into this mess was shocking. I could see groups taking comfort from each other, silently waiting for the last members of their family to make it through the queue. That was heartening, but didn't make up for the groups that were clearly missing someone.

Once the immediate lethal threat had been removed the emotional weight of the situation had started hitting people. The impact of the losses of the night was apparent, and the devastated environment didn't make it easy to find remains, if Bakuda's bombs had even left anything to find. There was a sense of a lack of purpose. That was probably not helped by the exhaustion of the hellish evening.

Once I realized the effect it was having I started being more careful in directing my healing. It meant people were wearily pulling themselves off the surgery bed, but at least I wasn't releasing chemically unbalanced individuals into a high stress environment. It didn't help that everyone was stranded at the edge of the city with no transportation, food, or water, and by all reports a state of chaos between them and any help.

At least they were free from Bakuda, and once I finished the last surgery we would be as well. It was more awkward than all the previous ones, mostly because of the significance. Because of course Chen had decided to wait until everyone else had gone before taking his turn.

I dropped the final bomb into the case and sealed the wound with nanites. Tattletale helped the man up from the improvised surgical bed. "Thank you Chen, that's everything." He had already clarified that it was not 'Mr. Chen' or any variation there of.

The man looked at Tattletale and nodded. I felt I should add something. "Thank you for your help. I don't know if I could have managed this otherwise."

The older man stood up and rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the place where the bomb had been removed. "You did a good thing here tonight. I just helped it happen." He positioned himself so that Tattletale was completely out of his field of view when he spoke. She didn't seem to enjoy the implication.

I looked over the clustered groups of former conscripts and steeled myself before asking. "So, do you have a family?"

He nodded. "My wife and daughter."

I did not see anyone standing around who could have matched that description. I was dreading this question. "Where are they?"

He smiled. "With her sister in Vermont. Sent as soon as this mess started."

I nodded. "Smart."

"Risky." Tattletale interjected. "Bakuda was making people bring in new targets. How'd you avoid the conscription quota?"

Chen smirked at her. "I didn't leave the C.U.I. to hand my family to another crazy dictator. I told them I couldn't find them, they told me to look harder. Happened over and over. No one really cares about a janitor." There was a knowing look to his smile.

The man gave me a nod, then just left to talk to some of the former conscripts he'd been working with earlier. I could see cell phones in their hands, so presumable something was being arranged to get these people out of here. It was probably better for them to handle it than for me to meddle any longer.

Tattletale let out a breath and slumped. Meanwhile I started recycling surgical tools into omni-gel. She looked like she wanted to say something, but just didn't have the energy. Though I swear she bit her lip when I recycled the blood scalpel.

I looked over at the rest of the Undersiders. Their dynamic wasn't what I would call healthy, but it was at least functional. "Are you going to be alright?"

"What, as a team?" I nodded. She just sighed. "Tonight wasn't exactly our shining moment. I'm not sure how this is going to play out." She shook her head. "We owe you for this, but I may need some time to figure out the full accounting."

"I'm not going to come around to break your knees, but we'll have to settle up at some point." She gave me a shallow nod.

The rest of the group approached with Brian supporting Taylor. Rachel was walking next to Angelica whose armor was beginning to droop and sag.

"Hey." Taylor mumbled, then squinted her eyes.

"We done here?" Rachel's voice was still harsh, but not as hollow as earlier.

I nodded at her. "That's the last of them. Well, conscripts. Don't know what happened to the regular members."

"Scattered as soon as neck tattoo got himself shot." Tattletale indicated to the grim site of that act that no one had taken the time to deal with. "They're long gone now."

"Oh, hey, got presents for everyone." Regent dug into a salvaged backpack and produced the knives that had been taken from the Undersiders. Well, the remains of the knife in Rachel's case.

The big girl looked at the scorched hilt and stub of a blade. "Two days, right?"

I nodded to her. "Should get the sheath back to." Rachel seemed content with that but I saw Tattletale's eyebrow twitch.

Brian grudgingly took his knife from Regent and checked it before placing it on his belt. I was still more than a little frustrated with the part he played in things falling apart, but everyone had clearly been dealing with a lot more than they let on.

That 'everyone' included me, if I was going to be honest with myself.

"Santa didn't forget you! Presents for that pie run."

"Apeiron."

He ignored my correction and produced a bent katana and scorched shield generator. Uber and Leet's discarded equipment. Two pieces of the tinker tech that had nearly stalemated me.

I'm not saying I forgave him, but the gesture helped.

"We've had it for tonight." Brian looked over the crowd, still giving us a significant clearance. He sighed. "I hate to leave this hanging, but can we handle the follow up later?"

"No problem." We really should have called it hours ago, but that wasn't possible at the time.

"Do you want to head out with us? I don't think the city is its safest."

I shook my head. "No, I've got to fix my bike, then I'm heading out."

The group looked over at the wreckage. Even Taylor seemed skeptical of the statement.

"Well, as long as you believe in yourself." Alec ignored the dirty looks he was getting from the rest of the group.

"It'll be fine."

"Seriously?"

I turned to Brian. "Sure. Five minutes work, tops."

It actually took me three and a half. The motor wasn't the beast of unlimited energy I'd rode out here with, but it would get me home. Tattletale had her mouth open and the rest of the Undersiders looked about equally shocked.

"Never should have doubted him." Alec laughed. "Should have taken book on that stunt. I could have cleaned up."

I was beginning to realize how much of that attitude was just an act. It wasn't a comforting idea.

"Uh, are all tinkers like that?" Taylor asked through shut eyes. Apparently trying to follow the work had made her dizzy.

Grue shifted his support of her. "I don't know. I've never..."

"No they are not." One of Tattletale's eyebrows was twitching. She took a breath. "Look, we'll reconnect in the morning. I don't think anyone can deal with this right now."

"Agreed." I started the bike and keyed up Fleet's control. "I'm going to need everything you have on the ABB, down to the last detail. This can't go on."

"You'll have it."

"We did good here tonight." The statement from Taylor was a half question, but she was looking over the now freed crowd.

"We did... something." That got a nod from the group. It was better than nothing. With a cloud of darkness from Grue we went our separate ways, leaving this chaos behind us.

Jumpchain abilities this chapter:

Maliwan Intern (Borderlands) 200:
At some point, you got lucky and figured out how Elemental Weapons really work. You know how to use them to best effect, allowing you to set enemies on fire regularly, melt people with acid bullets, and have ALL kinds of shocking adventures with electrical ammo. If you have any technical training, you can even jury-rig ways to apply elemental effects to other weapons, as well.

Workshop (Bubblegum Crisis) 100:
You need tools? You have ALL the tools. Using this, you can effectively build and/or repair any damn thing in BGC, though constructing orbital shuttles might take a while. Nevermind getting ahold of the plans.

Apartment (Bubblegum Crisis) Free:
A run down, single-room apartment. Nothing special, but hey, it keeps the rain off. Don't worry too much about the rent.

Civilian Equipment Package (GUNNM/Battle Angel Alita) 100:
Cramped room in the Scrapyard, basic household belongings, clothing, one Heirloom Weapon for free. If you are employed, attached is enough space to setup a workshop, clinic, studio or whatnot.

Heirloom Weapon (GUNNM/Battle Angel Alita) Free with Civilian Equipment Package:
Everyone in the Scrapyard carries something. Yours is a lot better than most, something that an actual professional might carry. Firearms are illegal on penalty of death - but outside the Scrapyard anything goes. As an heirloom, it has seen hundreds of years of loving use and its craftsmanship compares very well to modern technology. To the right person, it could be worth a lot.

Cyber-doctor Equipment Package (GUNNM/Battle Angel Alita) 200:
As Medic, plus powered tools for cyborg disassembly and repair. Bulky diagnostic computer, ten kilograms of miscellaneous spare parts, very rare compact 3D fabricator capable of milling custom components and printing or repairing circuitry. Free Rocket Hammer.

Medic Equipment Package (GUNNM/Battle Angel Alita) Free with Cyber-doctor Equipment Package:
One clean blood-and-dirt-repellent jumpsuit, facemask, kit equivalent to a modern first responder's kit. Assorted drugs and painkillers, and a few roughly bound texts on mutant and human care.

Rocket Hammer (GUNNM/Battle Angel Alita) Free with Cyber-doctor Equipment Package:
A two-handed warhammer with chisel-shaped head mounting a rocket booster that activated by a switch on the shaft. It can be disassembled and comes with a rolling case and replacement parts. A rare weapon in the Scrapyard, while very difficult to control it performs superbly against heavy cyborg armour and is fully legal despite the firearms ban.

Single Style - T'ai Chi Chuan (GUNNM/Battle Angel Alita) Free:
Solid theoretical and practical experience of a single form of personal combat. In the wasteland, what martial arts survive are pragmatic descendants of old world teachings. In the Scrapyard however, there are genuine schools of combat, though they are often overlooked – most human styles are ineffective against the crudest cyborg brawler, and the emphasis is to strike fast and run away faster.
T'ai Chi Chuan –This art is rarely taken seriously, owing to its firm rooting in qigong breathing techniques and ideas about chi, internal balance and fluid control of defence and counterattacks that have little appeal to cyborg fighters. However many elements of it have influenced the most advanced cyborg combat styles, and the therapeutic version is popular enough with the elderly that the original forms survive.

Tailor Made (Career Model) 100:
You are a brilliant designer, and can ensure objects you create are always looking fantastic, aesthetically pleasing and the like. Making something look good no longer takes any time or effort you can focus entirely on function, and whatever you make will look outstanding.
 
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21.1 Interlude: Dennis
21.1 Interlude Dennis

Dennis had never liked the Forsberg Gallery. It brought back memories of field trips with teachers overly enamored with whatever passed for art at the current exhibit. It always seemed the only things they felt were worth talking about were either painted over three hundred years ago or looked like they had been dragged out of a junkyard. After he joined the Wards it took on an entirely new flavor of discomfort as the most popular site of fundraising events. As bad as it could be when you were being led through by a stuffy teacher and enduring dry lectures about art theory, an extended night of 'charity' work was another story.

Hours of circulating in costume, being careful to precisely manage how you presented yourself, and giving the same list of talking points and canned responses over and over. It was like doing a public appearance, except everything was dressed up, excessively formal, and any missteps would be seriously reprimanded. After the liberties he'd taken at his announcement presentation Dennis had been watched like a hawk at these events.

They couldn't really blame him for that. They had seriously wanted his cape name to be 'Stopwatch'. Taking initiative at that point was practically a public service.

The pressure and scrutiny following that event had only recently been stepped down, largely shifting to the newer and most contentious member of the Wards. Shadow Stalker had made a point of pushing every restriction to the very limit. Despite her efforts she was still one of the more popular Wards, an easy task when they give you the edgy name and costume, not that Dennis was jealous or anything. That meant required attendance for her at fundraising events. And required headaches for whoever managed her.

The entire team would have been uncomfortable enough at one of these events if everything was going perfectly. By this time of night they would be on the third round of speeches, the buffet would have been thoroughly picked over and the team would be working through another round of whatever non-alcoholic beverage had been approved to look good in publicity shots without giving any chance of being mistaken for an actual cocktail. It was usually an orange fizzy mess that tasted overly of mango.

Dennis would have said that was the worst fate possible, probably with some melodramatic comparison to hostage situations or criminal organizations. Right now he could only wish he was stuck in a pompous party full of self-important businessmen, politicians, and local celebrities. It would be a big step up from the darkened gallery with harsh emergency lighting and clusters of frightened teenagers huddled around their phones.

The event hadn't even officially started when the first bombs went off. No, they were in the pre-event exclusive mixer. Dennis had long since given up trying to figure out every obscure method the PRT had come up with to squeeze more money out of people. This was another one of those schemes. Throw an extra, publically undisclosed, donation and you get access to the Wards before the rest of the donors showed up. Personal time, one on one interactions, and as many selfies as you wanted.

The crowd was full of teenagers with the occasional parent playing up their influence. He actually recognized some of them from Arcadia, though none of them were exactly his friends. These were more of Dean's social circle, the kids who were only at Arcadia for the prestige of being at a 'Ward school' and whose parents were a major factor in the school's excessive budget. Fortunately that meant there was little chance anyone would recognize him in costume.

When the first blasts had sounded no one had known what was happening. Then the power cut and the gravity of the situation set in. It had taken fifteen minutes of desperate calls while trying to manage a near panicked room full of guests and staff before he had been able to get any word on what was going on.

It wasn't good.

Confirmed bombings all across the city, including two close enough to the gallery to damage the windows on the ground floor. From what little they could tell The Rig was in chaos. Communications were down and there were signs of heavy combat. The PRT headquarters had been hit as well, just badly enough to lock down the garage and cripple any attempts to scramble the badly needed response teams.

Finally, after tense and desperate communications they got their orders. The entire team, even Flechette, was looking to him as the commands from headquarters came in. Everyone was at the edge of their seat waiting to find out where they'd be sent. This was one of the city's darkest hours and what was their mission?

Hold position and defend the civilians in the gallery.

To say the news hadn't gone over well would be an understatement. Dennis really hoped no one had managed to record Missy's reaction. If word of that got out there would be hell to pay for the young cape. Not that Sophia had taken the news any better, but profanity was at least in character for her. The rest of the team had been set to task as Dennis worked with Flechette to try to get some clarification.

The lack of a clear chain of command was not doing them any favors here. Flechette technically outranked him, but just by a hair. Having to compare birthdays in the middle of a crisis was not ideal. That said she wasn't ready to take command of the team and was still getting up to speed with local procedures and resources. That was the effects of her rushed transfer. Weld was in the same boat, but at least he would have had half a day of procedure meetings to draw on if he wasn't stuck on the Rig or wherever.

So that left Dennis to try to get some clarity from an overly stressed administration that hadn't been that well-disposed to his cape identity in the first place. What answers he had been able to glean weren't encouraging.

The ABB was behind the bombings, obviously. Mammon's warnings had been right on the mark. Maybe if he made his statements in a less dramatic and nebulous manner something could have been done about them. Instead the PRT and Protectorate had been tripping over that stunt to the point where they were probably less prepared than they would have been if he'd kept his mouth shut. The shocking part was the coordination being displayed in the attack.

This wasn't the predicted city wide random bombing spree. This was a coordinated attack and disruption effort. Through his calls to headquarters Clockblocker had been able to confirm attacks on the Rig, PRT headquarters, airport, several streets, and key infrastructure. The first wave had effectively crippled the city's ability to respond to the attacks. Worse, there were repeated explosions across the city, often catching response crews to the first wave. The result was a near total lock down of response and recovery efforts, made worse by the regional blackout triggered with the attack. With every Protectorate branch in the North East dealing with the chaos the power outage was causing in their own city no help was coming.

Simply put, the safety of the roads couldn't be guaranteed. The nearby blasts suggested there could be more explosives hidden in the area, so the region around the gallery was off limits until it could be cleared by the bomb squad. The Wards were to lock down the building and protect the civilians until a safe extraction could be guaranteed.

It was insane. The city was in chaos. They had been trained for this kind of thing, and now they were effectively sitting in a corner when the Protectorate desperately needed every resource it could get. That was the general mood in the group, and Dennis largely shared it.

That said, he was bright enough to know what was really going on here. He might not be the natural leader that Dean and Carlos were, but he wasn't the total fool that he played up for the cameras. He'd heard what people had been saying after the bank job. The presence of a Youth Guard investigation made the implications clear. The gallery was an excuse. The Wards were being kept out of the fight.

It frustrated him as much as any of the other members of the team, but he knew what was happening in the organization. People didn't think he paid enough attention to really guard what they said around him. The full face mask helped as well, as people never were sure what he was focused on. Because of that he knew how close the team was to disaster.

Ward teams weren't a right of Protectorate offices. You didn't have them in exclusion zones or high conflict regions. There were levels of threat the public would never consent to subject a minor to. What Khepri had done may have been non-lethal to Aegis, but it made the situation clear to everyone who saw it.

Brockton Bay was a dangerous city. One mistake could mean a dead child plastered across the news. It was clear very early that no power was worth risking that on the Protectorate's watch.

At least that was the policy being put in place now. Looking back at his career, all the villains he had fought, the patrols with no one but other Wards present, the idea that that wasn't standard procedure in most cities was jarring. He had been swapping stories with Flechette and rather than being impressed at the times the team had driven off Lung or Hookwolf she had seemed horrified.

What she told him about how things operated in New York was equally unnerving. The length of time where you were basically doing foot patrols through safe areas before you could even shadow a Protectorate hero was mind boggling. New York was by all accounts a more active cape scene than Brockton Bay, but they held back half of their heroes.

Maybe that was it. Brockton was at a rough standoff. The Wards and New Wave had let the heroes meet the gangs on equal footing. Only now the Wards were being held back and New Wave was in chaos.

That was another thing. It was weird seeing one of these events without even a token appearance from Victoria's team. They showed up to present a united front, boost attendance, and probably secure some of the take. Dennis didn't really understand the finances, but the night had felt weird without Dean and Victoria doing that 'pretend you don't know each other' thing. He secretly hoped they would be able to rally in the face of this, but some of the rumors flying weren't encouraging.

Dennis was just finishing his walk through of the groups on the mezzanine level. The dozen or so teenagers and handful of adults were on edge, but reassured by his presence. It made him feel the real weight of the situation. Clumps of formally dressed teenagers huddled on benches with their friends, faces lit by the light of their phones as they sought any information on what was happening. All looking to him like he had all the answers and power in the world.

Little did they know the Wards were struggling with exactly the same problem.

He moved into the small side office the gallery staff has offered as a sort of command center. The rest of the team were clustered in the light of the few monitors that Chris had been able to keep active with some on-the-fly tinkering.

Chris was the only member of the team who didn't look like they were attending their own funeral. It was kind of crazy, but the only one of them who wasn't completely devastated by the failure at the bank was the one with untreated injuries, broken equipment, a confiscated invention, and a severe reprimand. You would never know it from looking at the boy as he had repurposed the broken pieces of his hoverboard and, despite being prohibited from building anything new before the review board's evaluation, had been tearing into his old projects like a man possessed.

Dennis was fairly certain that the 'new' guns he had brought to the event had been assembled from the massive pile of half-finished inventions that amassed in the tinker's workshop. Without the cellphone charger he had rigged for the guests things probably would have devolved sharply after batteries started showing red. What he had managed here, constructed out of a coil from one of his guns, an old PC the staff assured us wasn't needed any more, and a scattering of salvage from the gift shop, was keeping the team better appraised of the situation than the sporadic updates Dennis had been receiving from headquarters.

"What did I miss?"

Chris glanced up from the mess of cables he was fiddling with. "Police band's still a mess. Three more recorded bombings since you left, but response is minimal. Looks like the Merchant capes are trying something, but theory is it's just to throw their weight around. Empire's still patrolling their territory. Probably trying not to look weak in the face of all of this. More reports of assaults and looting inside the Docks. Private security has managed to lock down the boardwalk. Still no official word on what happened on the Rig, just that camera phone video from the shore. And the broadcast..."

He trailed off and Dennis glanced at the main screen. Possibly the only clear picture they had of what was happening in the city was coming from the time-delayed stream of Uber and Leet's alliance with the ABB. Though with the direction it was taking it might be more appropriate to refer to it as a snuff film.

Dennis had switched out for his shift around the gallery right as Grue had been caught. He hadn't seen the results, but enough people had been watching the stream on their cell phones for the audio to provide a very disturbing mental picture. The central monitor showed the aftermath, spindly remains of a human body thankfully wrapped in shadow.

The broadcast cut to showing the last two remaining Undersiders, Tattletale and Khepri, running for their lives through the maze of storage units. The entire situation was like one of those monkey paw wishes. Someone took every ill intention the Wards had manifested towards the Undersiders following their defeat and saw how they could be fulfilled in the most terrible way possible, both for Undersiders and the city as a whole.

"Shadow Stalker, you're up." Dennis didn't have high hopes for her as a calming influence, but it would help to get her away from the broadcast. She had a history with Grue and hadn't taken it well when he'd got himself captured. Dennis didn't know exactly what was going on there, but between her frustration at being cooped up during the crisis and whatever unresolved score settling she'd just been denied the girl looked ready to explode.

It seemed like she just might do that instead of taking her shift. The tall girl pulled herself off the wall and looked ready to challenge him directly when Flechette stood between them. "Let me take this one? I need to stretch my legs."

Dennis glanced between the two capes, then nodded. "Keep an eye on the adults. Some of them don't seem to be dealing with this as well as their kids."

The new transfer nodded and shouldered her metal crossbow thing. Arbalest, or whatever its proper name was. Dennis sent her some silent gratitude as she left, but another look at Sophia told him it was a temporary measure at best.

A fixed camera showed Khepri run into view, then drop to the side to avoid the blast of a bomb she couldn't possibly have seen coming. She groggily pulled herself to her feet only to almost run into a pack of the armed civilians the ABB had forced to fight for them. Unfortunately they were only armed with melee weapons and were clearly no match for Mammon's tinker tech.

The super knife was a blur as it sliced apart clubs and improvised weapons, buying her enough space to drag her baton across the cement wall of a locker, spraying the mob with shards of concrete. Before they could recover she vanished down a side path, out of sight of the camera.

"She's trying not to hurt them." The attention of the entire room shifted to the normally silent hulking form of Blake. He just shrugged. "Could have gone through them a lot bloodier than that."

"Villains try to minimize casualties to keep the heat down. Not that it seems to matter for them." Vista's voice was bitter in the darkened office. Next to Sophia she seemed to be having the hardest time processing this mess. If it were anyone else her age Dennis would have kicked her out after that thing with Regent. He knew the girl well enough to understand what would happen if he tried. Vista had been on the team longer than him and had seen more field work at that. She could handle the grisly scenes being displayed better than her age suggested.

He shuddered just thinking about what had been shown. Trust Bakuda to come up with fates that made being pinned under frozen bugs look appealing. There was also the disturbing idea that she had designed her traps to one-up the Undersiders actions at the bank. It was a thought that made him even more concerned over what was happening out in the city.

"I don't know, they let you all off in one piece. Except for Aegis."

Vista's head snapped towards the older girl and Dennis could see the rage on her face. Things hadn't gotten any better between them since the bank. In fact, ever since her meeting with the new Youth Guard representative Sophia had been walking around with a huge chip on her shoulder. The current situation had only made things worse.

"You think that's funny you bit..."

"Anything else from headquarters?" Dennis practically shouted as he cut in. All he managed to do was get both girls pissed off at him. If this is what being a leader means then it's a mystery why Dean was so keen on it.

"Uh, no." Chris fumbled for more at Dennis's urging. "Got a list of priority dispatch areas, but the roads are a mess and response teams aren't getting through."

Sophia leaned forward and looked at the map on the second monitor. "Fuck it, I'm going."

Dennis whipped his head towards her. "Not happening. We're defending the gallery."

"A drunk rent-a-cop could defend this place. We're being tucked away because the rest of you screwed up. Well I'm not letting that stop me." The girl started checking her equipment and drew both crossbows.

"Shadow Stalker, look..."

"No you look." She pointed at the screen. "Priority doesn't mean the area needs a photo op. It means there's actual violence happening and someone needs to get there five minutes ago." She strapped the crossbows to her thighs and turned to vanish through the wall.

Dennis swore to himself for a second, then burst out of the office. He could see Sophia climbing the stairs to the rooftop balcony. Going for the highest point, maximum glide distance. His mind spun trying to figure out what to do, how to handle the situation. Carlos could have brought her in line, but she at least partially respected him. Dean could have talked her around, but he didn't have the charisma or thinker powers to pull off something like that. So what option did he have?

He made his decision in an instant. As fast as he could move without drawing attention he powered into the gallery, past guests and staff alike. He found Flechette by the scaffolding and plastic tarps that signaled an exhibit in the process of being installed. Probably one of those multi story scrap metal monstrosities that are supposed to represent the manifestation of an SAT vocabulary word.

He pulled the girl aside and spoke quickly "Shadow Stalker's leaving. She's heading for the conflicts in the docks."

He could see the worried expression through Flechette's visor. "Against orders?"

"She does that. Look, I can't talk her down from this, not the way she's set on it. She... She's not as tough as she thinks she is. If something happens to her tonight..." He left the question hanging and Flechette seemed to understand.

"What do you want me to do?"

It was a big responsibility. Also, as his first serious act as leader it could easily be his last, but better a harsh reprimand than a dead Ward. "The only one of us who could keep up with her is Vista, and they don't get along."

"I noticed. You want me to tail her?"

"I want you to go with her." Flechette shot him a surprised expression. "She's heading for the roof. Tell her I sent you to stop her, then go along with her. She doesn't have bad blood with you..."

"And if she thinks I've broken protocol as well she's not going to slip off."

Dennis nodded. "As leader I'll take the heat for this, however it goes down. Just keep your phone on and try to look after yourself."

Flechette bit her lip and looked towards the roof. "I will. And thanks." She put an arm on his shoulder. "You make a good leader."

Dennis felt a surge of emotion at that completely at odds with the dire nature of the situation. The girl hefted her crossbow thing and moved after Sophia. At least that was something. If things went sour Flechette would have the sense to bail or call for help. It could make the difference.

When he made his way back to the office Blake rose to meet him. "Look, I'm sorry about that."

It took Dennis a moment to figure out what Browbeat was talking about. "Oh, right. Don't worry about it. Everyone's on edge." He let out a breath. "I sent Flechette with her. It should be okay."

That got a chorus of nods. Blake stepped forward and adjusted the purple jumpsuit he'd used since before joining the team. There were talks about replacing it, but with him having the only 'win' at the bank he's been promoted enough that the look had become somewhat iconic. He's probably be stuck with it for a while.

"I can take the next shift."

"You don't have to."

He shook his head. "It's alright. I don't mind."

Dennis could understand why. Blake was probably the most awkward cape he had ever encountered. He was probably the only one more comfortable patrolling a dark museum full of frightened civilians than sharing a room with friends. He nodded to the big cape and watched him pace out of the room.

After Blake left Chris turned towards him. "It's not good for the Undersiders. They got Tattletale."

Right, monkey paw. The results of it were clear as day on the monitor, the horrible meshing of flesh and inanimate material. Somehow the fact that the girl was still alive and conscious made it even worse. If Bakuda was going for intimidation she was doing an excellent job of it.

"She was trying to call someone when Bakuda caught her," Vista added. "Trying to get help."

He raised an eyebrow behind his mask. "Think it's Mammon?"

The two other capes shrugged at him. "Not many other options. You'd have to be pretty desperate to call your arms dealer for help."

Dennis glanced from Chris to the image on the screen. "I think 'pretty desperate' is about the right word for this."

"Just Khepri left." From Missy's tone Dennis couldn't tell if she was concerned for the girl or eager to see what Bakuda had in store for her.

"She's doing better than people expected." Chris pulled up another screen. "See?"

"People are betting on this?"

The tinker shrugged. "It happened on some of their streams. It was just all set up ahead of time here. Probably while they were prepping things."

It was a disturbing concept, but worse things happened in the cape community. It was unexpected for the villain team, but that seemed to be the theme for the night.

"How do you think they managed to keep their gear working?"

"No idea. Probably change it before it can malfunction? If Leet's been on a time limit then the only thing holding him back would have been commitment to his theme."

That made sense, but was another worrying thought. Everyone considered the pair fairly harmless, but this was a big departure from their usual style both in competence and brutality. Meeting them in the field at this level of aggression was a scary thought.

The feed had shifted back to the main courtyard. Bakuda had climbed up on some crates and was making a grand speech about the glory of the ABB, a new age for the city, her genius, and so on. Most villains didn't monologue, but the ones that did seemed to try to cram five villains' worth of clichés into a single speech.

She was just wrapping up a rant about how 'no one would dare oppose them' when an explosion rocked the courtyard. For a second he thought it was another of her bombs. She hadn't exactly been stingy with the explosives. That idea was dispelled by her clear shock at the event and by the sight of what had to be a tinker tech motorcycle.

The vehicle barreled through the blast like it was nothing, turning into a perfect skid and stopping dead in the center of the courtyard. The dust trailed off it, highlighting every curve and angle of its bodywork. The bike looked fast. Rather than the glowing mess usually associated with tinker tech this bike just looked ready to launch itself at Mach speeds. There was something about it that made it seem like it was about to break the sound barrier when standing still.

Its rider's appearance was both shocking and familiar. From one glance it was clearly Mammon, but he had either changed his costume or Amy had badly understated things. The costume was just incredible.

He wore a long coat fluttering in the wind and momentum of his entry before settling. The material was somehow both deep black and able to catch the light just enough to highlight motion and shape. He wore a cowl on his head, a far cry from the reported bandanas, but still had that steel visor. The same material was peppered across his costume, highlighting shape, contour, and equipment. Not the chunky plates that had been reported as a possible Empire connection. His torso was looped with belts and bandoliers of small pouches. The color scheme was simple but dramatic, black, grey and white.

He turned to Bakuda and raised a gloved hand. The microphone didn't pick up his words, but from her reaction it was clear what was happening. This was the creator of the Undersiders' weapons and the help Tattletale had called for.

"He can't be serious." Vista was staring at the monitor with mad intensity. "What is he trying to accomplish coming in like that?"

And then his bike split open, folded up, and surrounded the tinker in a suit of power armor. The transition was so fast, smooth, and natural that the shock of it almost overwhelmed the shock of the fact that it played the Transformers sound effect during the process.

All three wards stared blankly at the screen as the tinker, now identifying himself as Apeiron, squared off against Bakuda. Gradually attention shifted to Chris who seemed at a loss for words. Finally he found them.

"Uh, okay. That's really good armor. Like, better than what I made for Gallant."

"It has turbines. Can it fly? If it can fly why did he come in through the wall?"

"Drama?" Chris hazarded.

"And the... sound effect?"

The tinker just shrugged. "The same? Look, see how it moves? That's full human range of motion, every axis represented at every joint. The engineering on something like that... well there's a reason most tinkers don't bother."

Dennis swallowed. "So we have a highly skilled tinker who still drops cartoon references in his equipment?"

"Quiet." Vista shushed them and turned up the volume so they could hear more of the exchange. Specifically the frank refusal to leave without Khepri. And the blatantly implied reason.

"Well, that..." Dennis dropped off mid-sentence.

"...explains how the Undersiders were able to afford their gear?" Vista offered. Her reaction to the revelation was complicated, sort of a mix of frustration and vindication. Dennis just shrugged and watched Apeiron, weird name that, banter further with Bakuda, even precisely identifying the effect of one of her bombs.

They looked to Chris for confirmation, but he just shrugged. "Sounds right? And based on her reaction..."

Based on her reaction he was right and rubbing it in her face. He then transitioned to threats, then bragging.

"He broke Oni-Lee's arm?"

"That's what he told Amy. Didn't you read the transcript?"

Chris just shook his head. "Haven't had a chance. Who do you think she's talking about?"

Dennis shook his head. "No idea. Wait, is he giving up?"

The armor had opened up allowing the tinker to stride forward. Without the amplification his words couldn't be picked up, from her reaction it wasn't a typical surrender. Chris gripped the edge of his chair as the empty suit of armor strode forward with fluid grace and took a position next to the tinker.

"Do you..." He turned from the screen to them. "Do you know how hard that is to pull off? The kind of programming it requires? The control systems?"

Chris may have been excited, but all Dennis heard was 'powerful tinker, really powerful tinker, really really powerful tinker.' over and over.

A series of orange holograms appeared around Apeiron's left arm. They seemed to shift through functions in a technical way. Some kind of interface?

The tinker raised his arm and a glowing orange sphere the size of a beach ball appeared floating in the air beside him. It seemed to be composed of overlapping partial shells of beautifully carved transparent material rotating around a glowing core. It looked technical, artistic, and threatening all at the same time.

Bakuda screamed and launched a grenade in a high arc. With speed reminiscent of Khepri's knife and form that any PRT officer would be proud of, the tinker raised a small pistol and put a glowing shot straight through the tiny target.

The shot detonated the grenade in a lightning storm that caused the cameras to stutter out. The Wards exchanges concerned glances as the image returned. Bakuda and the two ABB members closest to her were smouldering from some type of attack the broadcast has skipped. A separate feed showed the tinker leap up and suspend himself from the floating drone. The explanation for the mysterious action was provided immediately.

"Where's the fucking robot?"

The electronic voice was greeted by the sound of screaming turbines as the sight of the empty armor diving towards the courtyard with both crackling electric clubs extended from its arms like spears.

Watching the aftermath made Dennis wonder why they hadn't felt the shockwaves when the attack happened. It wasn't clear how delayed the stream was, but surely they should have been able to notice something like that? Or had they just dismissed it as another explosion?

The courtyard rippled in a way that looked like Vista using her power, but instead of a flowing spatial warp it fractured into hundreds of crevices and leveled every locker in the area. Miraculously, or possibly by design, an empty area had been targeted for ground zero, so casualties were minimal. When the camera settled it focused on the tinker walking towards a set of jeeps with his pistol drawn.

"What's he planning?"

"Shot to the engine block?" Chris offered. "Powerful enough gun could shut down the jeeps. He'd be able to..."

He stopped talking as an orange blade, the same color as the holograms on his left arm, sprouted from the pistol. It crackled with the same energy as the robot's clubs and was as intricately designed as everything the tinker carried. With three quick swipes the jeeps were reduced to a pile of sparking scrap.

They watched as he set commands for his robot and drone before disappearing into the facility. The three Wards exchanged concerned glances as the feed became a display of the tinker's robots harassing the ABB.

"So..." Started Dennis. "I think we can confirm that's the guy who equipped the Undersiders."

"And not exactly with his top end gear." Chris rolled back the stream to the destruction of the jeeps. "Not even close to them. And see the sparks? Reactive cuts. There's a lot of energy going into that."

"How bad are we talking?" Vista leaned in. Dennis followed her eyes and noticed how deeply the slashes had cut into the ground around and even behind the jeeps.

Chris made a confused gesture. "I don't even know how that worked. It's like he managed to destabilize matter in a projected plane, then somehow amplified the effect."

That wasn't reassuring in the slightest. The door opened to reveal Browbeat, looking as concerned as he could behind his mask.

"You guys saw that right?"

"Yeah." Dennis nodded. "How are the guests and staff taking it?"

"Not terribly. It's something else to focus on." He glanced over his shoulder. "I think anything that's standing up to the ABB right now is a relief."

As much as he hated comfort coming from a villain rescuing other villains he could understand that. It was hard to get any information right now, and the clearest picture of what was happening in the city had been Bakuda's tour of horrors. Seeing someone stand up to her was a big deal. He just wished it had been a Protectorate response team instead of a new terrifying tinker.

Chris turned to Missy. "How bad do you think that weapon would be if it was used Downtown?" He might have been a tinker but no one on the team knew more about the dynamics of structures than Vista.

Normally the shaker would have preened at having her authority recognized. Instead she just looked dower. "Devastating." She shook her head. "That broke the foundation of the facility. The shockwaves must have been titanic. I don't know if it would actually bring down a skyscraper, but I wouldn't feel safe in any building after a hit like that."

Which begged the question, why the hell did he have something like that on hand? Giant area attacks weren't common loadouts for new tinkers. The idea that he just happened to have a weapon like that on hand when called was a disturbing thought.

"I'll... I'll take the next patrol." Dennis almost thought about interjecting. Vista had made her feelings on the new tinker very clear. Sending her out where people were celebrating his arrival seemed like a less than ideal plan. Still, she wasn't likely to start anything around the public, though would undoubtedly vent to the team in private. He nodded to her as she left the room.

"Any updates on the city?" His own phone had been silent with no updates from headquarters. It was frustrating that they could piece together a better picture from police dispatch, news reports, and social media posts than they could from official channels.

Chris shook his head. "More explosions, but the frequency is dropping off. Oh, the Rig's not on fire anymore, so that's something."

Meaning maybe now they'd finally be able to get some news on what the hell was happening over there. And it might even come through a proper update rather than a leak to PHO.

Dennis let out a breath. The night was wearing on him. He'd had extended combat missions that felt less exhausting than being stuck in the museum.

After the tinker's disappearance the broadcast had become much less engaging. It mainly consisted of the ABB trying to organize some kind of resistance or expedition only to get disrupted hard by Apeiron's robots. It was a stalemate that was exciting for about the first two minutes, then became repetitive. The robots were tireless and seemed to be getting better as time went on, while the ABB and Bakuda only got more frustrated.

Dennis left for a brief patrol while Chris cycled through the security cameras he'd been able to power up. They showed the same thing they had all night, absolutely nothing. No one was threatening the gallery. No one even wanted to be in the area. It was clear as ever that they were being kept a safe distance from the fighting.

When he got back the broadcast had shifted from the courtyard to a faceoff between Uber and Leet against Khepri and Apeiron.

It was the kind of match up that wouldn't do the rumors about the nature of Uber and Leet's relationship any favors. Even after years that was still a popular trolling topic, mostly because of Leet's juvenile tantrums over the subject.

Unlike the broad shots of the courtyard this was shown from close up, with the benefit of body cameras in addition to their floating surveillance devices. As such they could actually make out the dialogue as the fight began. It was a disturbing demonstration of extreme durability and unknown technology from Apeiron against Uber and Leet with actual functional technology. Even with all the unknown properties on display there was one question that had to be voiced.

"What the hell is the Tripredacus Council?" Chris just shrugged, but surprisingly it was Blake who illuminated things.

"Third party in the whole Autobot and Decepticon standoff. Usually plotting from behind the scenes. No real connection to either of them. Actually have a completely different origin, goals, everything. Usually they showed up to cause problems for both sides."

The both looked blankly at the hulking cape, causing him to shrug in embarrassment. "I used to watch reruns after school. The sixth season of Beast Wars was really good once they got back to Cybertron."

"Think that means anything, or are we just looking at another Leet?"

Chris shrugged. "Honestly? It could just be a style thing. Lots of tinkers add little flourishes. If you're building a transforming motorcycle then making it sound like a transformer isn't that much of a stretch."

"Hold on, roll that back." The Wards listened to the exchange between the capes again.

"So the ABB really has a new thinker." Dennis shook his head. "Is that all it takes to make those clowns dangerous? Knowing when their gear will fail?"

Chris looked grim. "Probably? They can basically cycle through whatever they need. And with one shot items, well it's basically a guarantee."

"This is bad." Browbeat's voice was more deadpan than usual.

"It's been bad from the first blast. But yeah, this is worse. This is a persistent problem." Functional Leet would have been scary if all he was doing was game jokes. Functional Leet thrown in with a bloodier ABB was a nightmare.

Apeiron started to trade insults with Leet at a favorable exchange rate while Khepri cut through zombies in a manner disturbingly reminiscent of the end of the bank fight. Unlike most people Dennis had seen that from his pinned position rather than on the replay cameras. It was the kind of thing that stuck with you, even compared to the nightmare of being frozen under bugs. Watching her now it was clear no one in their right mind would get within arm's reach of her, a fact made clear by Leet's call to Uber to finish things.

The capes watched the attack and aftermath mostly in confusion. "Was that a Street Fighter thing?"

Chris shrugged. "No idea. I've only seen those characters in the crossover they did with King of Fighters. Uber and Leet always reference the most obscure stuff."

"I think they've kept making them."

"Yeah, but nobody plays them outside of tournaments and really hardcore fans."

Whatever the effect was it had caused the first real injury the tinker had shown in the entire fight. His costume was ripped and torn in dozens of places, exposing bloody flesh, battered skin, and some kind of machinery coating his arms. Then in face of Uber's taunting blue circuit like lines spread over his body and the injuries vanished.

"That... is not what Amy described." Dennis looked to Chris, but the tinker just shrugged.

"No idea. Looks like something technical, but I mean, glowing lines? That could be a thousand things."

"Effective though." Blake gestured to the fully recovered tinker. "I couldn't heal nearly that fast."

"I'm pretty sure Amy would need more time as well. That's serious healing tech." Which was in line with what they already knew.

What he did next was not.

"He can make bugs? He can make bugs that Khepri can control?" No one had any answer for that question, and the effectiveness of the bugs was as terrifying as their sudden appearance.

"Oh, and mass produce those drones." Kid Win's voice was tinged with envy. "That's just great."

The broadcast cut back to the courtyard with Uber and Leet's sudden retreat in the face of capture, leading to another long shot of untrained ABB trying to deal with mystery tinker tech. What had been revealed in that fight wasn't exactly encouraging. Between the drones and instant bugs it was a tossup of which news was worse. Vista chose to weigh in when she returned from her patrol.

"Mammon can make bugs? Mammon can make bugs that Khepri can control?" No one wanted to correct her on the name, and Dennis had a feeling she'd keep using that term in her own head long after his chosen name had been accepted by the public.

"Do we have any idea what he's doing with that stuff? Amy said it was healing and teleportation, but he's shooting fire, lightning, and insects from it?"

Chris had no answers, and the rest of the group was at a loss. Just something tied into the contents of his pouches. Any number of tinker devices could be hidden there. Dennis shook his head and took his patrol of the museum.

He wasn't exactly patrolling the museum, just the party space on the mezzanine level. If not for the blackout this would have had a very nice view of Brockton's skyline along with the bay and PHQ. At the moment the Rig was one of the few points of light in the darkened city, though the evident damage made that far from comforting.

Inside the museum things weren't looking much better. The catering had been picked over and was now just scraps surrounding a melting ice sculpture. The event had been planned for far more than the tiny group that got caught in the blackout, but canapés and hors d'oeuvres didn't make the most filling meal so had vanished fairly quickly. Now all that was left were clustered groups of frustrated, emotionally exhausted civilians trapped away from home and safety. At least the staff had taken some comfort in the assurance that they would be getting overtime for this mess.

The most popular viewing was clearly Bakuda's broadcast, with the audio coming clearly from more than half of the phones. How many people in the city were watching it? In the country? They didn't post exact viewership figures, but the chat, gambling, and online reactions were orders of magnitude greater than their typical broadcast.

A few people were edged away from the main group talking to friends and family members. Dennis had checked in with his mother at the start of the night to make sure his parents were safe. His mother assured him they were fine. That his father would be fine. Unless the blackout extended for days there shouldn't be a problem with his treatment. That things would be fine.

He had heard it before. They had been here before. Things would always be fine, even when treatments got more and more severe, more draining. Even when they suddenly needed a bone marrow transplant. Things would be fine, but that had to be acted on immediately. There was no time for things to be fine.

No time. That thought, the needle approaching his skin, the horrible feeling of blacking out and then...

Then he was a cape. He had joined the wards, been the fun guy, broken the tension, kept Vista from getting too serious, played against Aegis, been there for Chris. Then the leukemia had come back. Then the bank had happened. Then the team had fallen apart, and no amount of humor would hold it together. He had to be a serious leader dealing with serious things that he just wasn't ready for. That no one was ready for.

He had been so caught up in his thoughts he hadn't noticed the man approach until he was right on top of him. He cursed himself. This was supposed to be a patrol. Yes, it was basically babysitting duty, but it was a dangerous night. He needed to stay on guard.

The man was one of the handful of adults that had been part of the pre-event mixer. That meant parent or influential relative of one of the teenagers. It was an older Asian man with a suit and demeanor that just screamed 'corporate executive'. He looked fairly nervous about approaching him, so Clockblocker did his best to put the man at ease.

"Hello. Can I help you?" Stage voice, no hint of concern at the situation. Everything is calm and normal, nothing to worry about here.

"Oh, uh, yes. Thank you. And thank you to your team for staying with us during all this..." The man trailed off and checked his watch, probably a nervous habit. Dennis couldn't blame him.

"It's no trouble. We're happy to help whenever we can." This was hamming it up more than he intended. It turned out combining his own instincts with a question of 'what would Dean do?' resulted in something that could probably be described as 'parody Legend'.

"Ah, yes. I wanted to ask, I haven't seen Flechette in a while. Is she patrolling the area?"

Dennis didn't change his stance, but a bit of unease started to creep up his spine. Only questioning about Flechette, no mention of Shadow Stalker vanishing, or Kid Win who had been managing the communications monstrosity since he set up the cell phone charger. Had this man come with anyone?

Cape stalkers weren't unheard of, but usually were more subtle or at least age appropriate. The man didn't seem the type, but the type was good at not seeming the type. He decided to brush it off and give the team a warning.

"She's taking patrol outside the main area. Nothing to worry about. Let us know if there's any trouble."

He left before the man could say anything else. Making his way back to the office he tried to piece together his instincts on the man. Cape stalker didn't seem right, but something was definitely off.

"Any news?" The faces that turned to him were grim. "What? Something with Bakuda?"

Chris shook his head. "Taunted Apeiron when he found Grue, then bombed the place to smithereens. They're playing cat and mouse in the storage rows at the moment."

The news that Grue was dead was a shock, even given his condition following Bakuda's demonstration. That said, it wouldn't have caused the reactions he was seeing. "Then what?"

Chris indicated a screen showing a PRT database he was fairly certain they weren't supposed to have access to. "Casualty list from the Protectorate."

His blood froze. "How bad?"

"No fatalities." Vista offered. "But Armsmaster's in critical condition. Velocity is stable but incapacitated. So is Assault."

"Weld is listed as out of commission. No details on what that means."

Dennis took a breath. "So they're down to Miss Militia, Battery, Dauntless, and Triumph?"

"Plus any members of New Wave they can call in." Chris offered dryly.

He felt rage and frustration at being stuck here boil back to the surface. They should be out there. They should be making a difference, not stuck here watching rich kids while the city was being torn apart. All because they screwed up so bad the entire future of the team was in danger. He took that feeling and pushed it down. He took a moment to consider the situation further. More clearly. And it came to him. "Movers."

"What?"

"They took out the movers. Rapid response. Velocity has always been the first on the scene. With Armsmaster's bike he was close behind. Assault and Battery have that speed trick they do to cycle kinetic energy. Losing either of them shuts that down."

"You think they pulled off a targeted hit during a prison break while coordinating a blackout with half their forces supporting Bakuda?" Missy sounded understandably incredulous.

"They do have a new thinker." That got some concerned looks from around the table.

"What about Dauntless?" Blake asked.

Dennis shook his head. "Infinite growth means he's managed by the Protectorate as a whole. Focusing on defense at the moment, so probably the worst flyer in the city."

"What about Stormtiger?"

He looked at Missy. "Fine, worst flyer who doesn't launch himself on blind trajectories guided only by hope, Nazi insanity, and cocaine."

That got a weak smile from the girl, but it quickly died. "I should get out there."

"Oh, there's an older guy, business suit. He was acting a bit off. Asked about Flechette pretty insistently."

"Cape stalker?"

"Maybe? Not the vibe I got, but keep an eye on him?"

"Got it."

Dennis let out a breath and sank into a chair. The broadcast was still showing the courtyard, the robot and drones buzzing around the ABB while they pushed out further and set up more equipment. "Still no progress?"

Chris shook his head. "Looks like a standoff. Probably going to putter out soon. There's not much point in bringing the fight to Bakuda, so they'll probably slip out soon."

Chris turned his attention back to the screen just in time to see the robot diving into the ground, weapons extended, for a second time that night.

Nobody commented on the inaccuracy of the prediction. It was completely overshadowed by the fact that apparently the earthquake weapon was not a one shot. Apeiron hadn't brought out some desperate one-shot big gun. He had the ability to do that, to cause that level of devastation, whenever he wanted.

Maybe there were limits. Maybe it had a cool down, or limited shots, or some other restricting factor. But they weren't stopping him now. The second hit absolutely leveled the facility. The area was turned into a field of rubble. Fear and panic were plastered across the faces of the ABB. And then his voice came from the crater.

They watched the exchange play out in silence. Bakuda has set herself up as the most feared tinker in the city. Probably in the eastern seaboard. He mocked her. He belittled her to her face. He picked at her insecurities and reduced her to ineffectual attacks swatted down with contempt. Then he strode out of the mist with his glowing arm and Khepri at his side and looked down on her like she was nothing. The robot and drones fell before them like a royal court while Bakuda struggled to find any footing. It looked like things couldn't get worse.

Then the howling came.

Concerned glances were exchanged in the office. "Hellhound."

"They didn't show her, just said they'd dealt with her." Chris pulled up a clip on another monitor.

"Wait," Blake asked. "They found Hellhound? And saved her."

"He is a good healer." Dennis offered as they watched the screen.

Then the dust pulled back revealing choking clouds of black smoke. A giant dog monster darted in and out of the darkness, just clear enough to show two riders on its back. One of the ABB hostages pointed something out and the camera focused on it.

Tattletale.

Her clothes were tattered, but she was alive, whole, and as cheeky as ever. On the other side of the courtyard Regent made himself known. The dog edged out of the darkness showing Hellhound and Grue on its back.

He had healed the Undersiders. He had totally healed them from the worst injuries and mutilations possible. Panacea couldn't handle some of what had been done. Regent, he hadn't had much of his arm left, but he was as hale as ever.

"God damn." Blake's voice was reverent. "I don't know if I could come back from that stuff, and he just..." He made an astonished gesture.

A horrible thought entered Dennis's head.

"He said he sells his services?" He hated himself for even asking. Fortunately they didn't know. They took it as an honest question, not a potentially traitorous one.

Chris nodded. "We won't be able to stop him. Healing like that, they won't care about regulations or villain status. Damn it, he'll be funded forever."

Dennis just nodded and tried not to think about his trust fund, whether it would be enough, could possibly be enough.

Contemplation of the miraculous abilities on display was abandoned as Bakuda opened fire erratically on the Undersiders. Hellhound's dog started tearing through the ABB. Grue sent pillars of darkness into the sky. Tattletale and Regent vanished from the scene, though the effects of his power quickly became evident on Bakuda. Apeiron shielded Khepri from gunfire as she sent his manifested insects at the shooters, aiming without line of sight. All the robots launched into the sky.

When it looked like the ABB might be able to mount a defense the earthquake weapon was demonstrated not to be a two shot either. The robot performed a low flyby, tearing a terrifying chasm directly through Bakuda's position. The rift swallowed numerous pieces of equipment, nearly taking the operators with it.

They watched Apeiron and Khepri abandon their position and walk through a squad of the toughest group of ABB on the field like they weren't there, fire and blade flying as they moved. Then they vanished into the darkness and Bakuda was left cowering under human shields with broken equipment.

"Well..." Dennis didn't know where to go from there.

"Fuck?" Suggested Chris.

He cracked a brittle smile. "Sounds about right."

Blake was just shaking his head. "How do we deal with something like that?"

Dennis let out a breath. "In all likelihood? We don't. Welcome to the new Wards, where we babysit while the city burns." He dropped his head. "I doubt they'll let us within a mile of the Undersiders at this point."

Despite the frenetic pace of the broadcast there wasn't a lot happening. Bakuda was messing with something while hiding from the sweeping attacks of the robot and drones. Chris distracted from the gloom and frantic chaos of the broadcast by cycling through the rest of their data sources. The bombings were at least dropping off, though response and rescue was still a mess. No update on the state of the Protectorate heroes or Weld. He did find a report of Shadow Stalker and Flechette stopping an assault in the docks, so that was encouraging.

The sound of a blast drew their attention back to the fight. Bakuda had launched something into the air that wiped out the drones, cleared the darkness, and buried the robot in a pile of rubble. The bomb tinker had assembled a nightmarish conglomeration of barrels and rockets being aimed deeper into the facility.

A fresh set of drones rose from the ruined lockers, but were met by the first tracking missile Bakuda had deployed. Its payload wiped out all five constructs, then scattered like seeds across the ground.

Impossibly the seeds started to grow, sending glassy black vines clawing into the air and towards the source of the drones. You could see the heat shimmering off them and small fires sprang up from any flammable items in their path. From within the horror brambles a series of explosions rang out, each seeming to slow the progress slightly. Finally the growth stopped, leaving a burning crystal thicket the size of a three story business complex.

Bakuda launched something and the view shifted to a remote drone. It showed the Undersiders huddled behind Apeiron in a clearing in the barbed strands. The ground in front of him was scorched and blackened, apparently the result of whatever had held the mess back.

They watched as he pulled an item from a pouch and allowed a glowing mass to fly into his pistol. Then he activated his sword and the blade grew from the gun. Then grew some more. Then it kept growing.

The tinker stood there with an honest to God anime sword, complete with swirling aura. Dennis looked to Chris for any explanation but just got a hopeless shrug. The blade was crackling even worse than before and the glow from whatever he had added to the weapon was mounting at a frightening rate.

Apparently Bakuda thought so as well because she decided to launch everything she had. Rockets, mortars, bombs, and grenades sailed towards the Undersiders. Then the tinker swung the sword.

That was the last thing they were sure of, because everything afterwards was a chaotic guessing game. You could see the crescent of orange light tear into the sky, obliterating everything in its path. You could see the initial shockwave tearing things apart. After that land and air became indistinguishable as everything was swept up in the blast.

When the display settled it was limited to an off center depiction of the former courtyard. There was a sense of stunned aftermath that the Wards would likely have enjoyed if not for the sudden frenetic knock at the door tearing them back to reality.

Dennis calmed his heartbeat and quickly rose to open the office door. He was greeted by the face of the man he had spoken with earlier, only several times more desperate and panicked.

"Sir, is there a problem?"

"I need to speak to Flechette." His answer was frantic and his eyes scoured the inside of the office.

Dennis steeled himself. "I'm sorry, she's not available. If you could return to the group..."

"No!" He practically screamed. "There's not enough time. Have..." He checked his watch. "Seven minutes and I have to ask her about the train."

"What train? What are you..."

"Clockblocker..." Chris's voice was hollow. Dennis turned to the tinker and he held up one of his cobbled together devices. Dennis couldn't make sense of the display, but Chris clarified. "His neck."

A chill went up his spine. "Sir." His voice was deadpan as he spoke. "Could you turn around?"

The man looked conflicted, but slowly rotated with awkward, shuffling steps. There, creeping just above the collar of his shirt, was the edge of a fresh scar.

Dennis fought his urge to pull back from the man, something Blake and Chris didn't manage. He swallowed. "Sir? I'm going to need you to move away from the group. Down the hall please."

He was practically crying as he moved. Dennis's mind spun as he considered his options. Seven minutes. There was no doubt as to what would happen after that. What could they do?

Anything. At this point anything would be better. "Kid, I need something that can make contact with the bomb without setting it off."

"What are you planning?" His hands were already scrambling through the gear scattered around the office as he asked the question.

He swallowed and put more confidence into his voice than he felt. "If it's close enough to a continuous object I can freeze it. Then we can get it out."

"Oh, yeah. Great idea." His hands froze. "How are we going to get it out?"

Dennis shifted his gaze to Browbeat. It took a moment for the big cape to register his intention.

"What? No, God no. I can barely do self-biokinesis. This is another person. I don't know medicine. All I could do is try to mash stuff in there. What if I screw this up?"

"The base situation has him dying a horrible death. Just try to take it up a smidge from there." It was darker humor than he was used to, but these were darker times.

The improvised surgery took place in a bathroom off the side hallway. Chris had managed to cobble together some multi stage needle thing that he said should be able to make contact without setting off any sensors. Dennis kept a finger on it ready for Chris's signal. Blake stood by looking like he might vomit or pass out and Vista stayed by the door, ready to stretch as much space as she could in a room full of people in the event something went wrong.

Dennis didn't feel any difference in the device when Chris signaled him, but pushing his power into it he could feel the extent of the implanted bomb. Smaller than a ping pong ball, not perfectly round, and lodged just under the man's skull.

The man practically stopped breathing when the bomb was frozen. He could see the skin distort around the embedded object as subtle shifts in the man's body pulled on the frozen device. It reminded Dennis a little too much of the frozen insects that had invaded his eyes and mouth during the bank job.

He stepped aside and made room for Blake. The cape removed one of the gloves of his jumpsuit and placed a hand on the man's neck. Without the covering Dennis could see the bone plates and extra muscles that Blake manifested as part of his power. This was new ground for the cape, but they needed someone with an idea of the human body.

The man flinched as bones pushed their way through Blake's skin and cut into the man's neck. The apparatus extended like a living scalpel, guided by bio-control and tactile telekinesis. Slowly, Blake guided the man off of the time frozen device, keeping a palm pressed into his neck. When he pulled it back there was a greyish mass where the bomb had been.

"Collagen." He panted. "Biologically neutral, no markers or allergens. Should be absorbed by the body eventually, or you can get someone who knows what they're doing to deal with it." He let out a long breath. "Damn thing was wrapped around an artery. Had to jiggle it out like a stuck piece of toast."

"Great job." Dennis congratulated him, but was overshadowed by the tearful hug the big cape received from the businessman. It took a few minutes to get the full story from him. Less than a minute after that he was on the phone to Flechette.

"Hello?"

The voice that answered the phone was a lot more upbeat that Dennis would expect for someone fighting muggers during a blackout.

"It's Clockblocker. Can you talk? It's urgent."

"Oh, sure. Shadow Stalker and I just ran into a new cape."

"Is everything alright?"

"Oh. Yeah, not like that. She's awesome. What's this about?"

"Does the name March mean anything to you?"

There was silence on the line. "Just a minute, I need to take this." The voice was distant. She'd moved the phone away from her face. "Yes, thank you. Yes, you too." There was the sound of rapid footsteps, then she spoke again. "What about March?"

Dennis took a breath. "She's joined the ABB. From what we can put together she planned all of this, everything tonight."

"Fuck. God fucking damn it."

"You know her?"

"Old villain from New York. She can take a gang of pickpockets and turn them into a team they won't let Wards near. With the ABB..." She trailed off.

"Yeah, looks like it. She was after you, had a plant in the gallery."

"Figures. Are they, I mean, have you?"

"He's fine." He considered his next move. "He was supposed to lure you away by asking about the train." There was dead silence. "Does that mean anything to you?"

"My trigger." There was real rage in her voice. "March knows about my trigger. I don't know how, but, oh God damn it."

"Look, she's coming here. I need everything you can give me. Strengths, weaknesses, habits, tactics, anything. If she's coming she's probably not coming alone. We have over thirty civilians here to protect. Anything you can give will help."

Flechette began to talk.

And Dennis began to lead.

A big part of that was just stepping up and being the person who took the initiative. Come up with a plan, even if it's not perfect. Utilize your resources. And report.

He pulled up the PRT.

"This is Clockblocker. We have reliable intelligence that multiple villain capes are incoming on our position. Arrival imminent."

There would probably be a mountain of paperwork for this. As soon as Weld was back Dennis was going to dump as much as possible on him.

"This is Console. Prioritize the safety of the civilians. Support is... not available. You have clearance for intercept and engagement. Withdraw if possible."

Now they tell us we can leave. They may have had less than five minutes to come up with a plan, and that plan may have endangered a civilian, but given the circumstances and the vindictive feeling of the civilian, it seemed appropriate. It might also be his ass once Piggy got ahold of him, but after tonight he could live with that.

Which was how Toyoda Tsuneo, fifty two year old business executive, found himself standing in a darkened hallway next to a feminine figure in purple half obscured by scaffolding and plastic sheeting. The man did not need to fake his nervousness as he paced back and forth in the confined space.

Slowly, steps began to echo through the museum. They grew closer and closer until finally a figure could be seen through the gloom of the hallway. It cast a striking silhouette, particularly the large rabbit ears emerging from the military cap on its head. There was a slight swish as a long object was swung back and forth behind the figure. Finally the approaching person stepped into the light.

She wore a red and green marching band uniform with peaked cap in the same shades. Her face was completely covered by a rabbit mask and two large ears emerged from the hat on her head. Behind her back the glint of a saber was just visible.

"I brought her." The man volunteered. "Just like you said."

"So you did." Her voice was light and musical. "...just on time too, why a couple minutes more, and..." She made a popping gesture with her free hand. The man swallowed in response. "Now, where's that device? So hard to keep track." She made a show of patting down her pockets, then glanced up at the feminine figure. "Glad you could join us. Aren't you just dying to find out…" Her voice cut out as her eyes fell on the figure.

With the wave of a hand a mass of plastic sheeting launched itself over the rabbit cape. The corridor behind them distorted, allowing the man to reach the end in a single step and a white clad cape covered in clocks to step into his place and with a single lunge the plastic sheeting locked in place like a force field. The purple figure swelled in size and stature, taking the familiar form of Browbeat. Meanwhile the corridor widened and warped, revealing a girl in green and a boy in gold and red armor, training a pair of pistols on the villainess.

The woman ran a hand over her impassible plastic prison. "Clever. Bringing out new tricks for me. I guess you had to learn something after that bank." She sighed. "Such a shame."

"Give it up, you're trapped and surrounded."

The woman tilted her head slightly, causing the rabbit ears to brush against the plastic. "Really, did you think I'd come here alone? Flechette isn't the only one Bakuda made presents for. All those little rich kids, so vulnerable, and you're not there to protect them."

Vista just smiled at that. March seemed to catch on. "Really? What a pity, then I suppose..."

Oni Lee appeared in front of the cape shaking his head. Kid Win shifted to get a shot on him, but a new copy appeared in reach, causing him to roll and fire wildly while propelled by his new greaves.

"Lee? Change in plans. Bring the place down." With a nod the demon masked ninja began reaching for his belt. Dennis exchanged a panicked glance with Missy before diving forward. He was barely looking where he was going, just tagging clones and bombs wherever Vista put them or him. Blake had bulked up more than Dennis had ever seen and was taking on four clones at the same time. A near constant barrage of stun bolts were flying from the erratic arcs Chris kept launching himself.

It looked like they might have the upper hand, like they might win the day. Then a crackling sound came from March's prison.

The cape had extended her rapier through the time frozen material and was trailing it in a spiral, leaving a path of misty purple blue behind it. The path started to spark like a line of gunpowder. When it reached the end of the spiral the plastic exploded to shreds. Time frozen material completely negated like it was nothing.

"Bullshit!" The word came before he could process it. March raised her sword and lunged towards him.

Then she stumbled, her blade coming short. She shot Vista an angry glance, then her mood changed to levity once more. "Oh well, time to call it for today." She slipped towards the railing of the mezzanine, dodging stun bolts and a clumsy swipe from Browbeat while also working around a dozen Oni Lee clones. She flipped onto a piece of scaffolding, saluted with her saber, then slid down it like a fireman's pole while trailing a line of wavy purple-blue energy behind her.

The diminishing presence of Oni Lee's duplicates was enough indication of what was happening. "Vista, get us out of here."

The girl nodded and space warped through the mostly empty building. They followed her steps as the gallery seemed to turn backwards, inside out, and upside down around them. Finally they made it through all the distortions, to a reinforced corner formerly just large enough for a janitor closet.

At the moment you could fit a football team in it. Or the staff and early arrivals of a charity event, plus one very stressed businessman.

As soon as they were inside Dennis froze the door, the only portion not warped by space. With the gallery spread out by Vista's power they didn't feel the blasts, but they could hear them. A lot of them. And the collapse. Chris guessed March had hit a main support pillar. When the dust finally settled, the last of the time frozen clones dissipated and bombs detonated, they pulled the civilians out of the remains of the gallery with a combination of Missy and Blake's powers. It was a mess, but they had come through alive. That had to count for something.

Plus no one would ever have to endure a field trip to the Forsberg Gallery again. There's always a bright side to things.
 
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Jumpchain Abilities by Constellation
Jumpchain Ability List by Constellation
(in the order they were acquired)


Toolkits

Workshop (Personal Reality) 100: Each purchase of this adds to your Personal Reality Workshop needed to perform specific type of craft, which is to be specified when purchase is made. It comes with a basic set of tools and supplies. Good for fixing or creating all sorts of things, although any complex parts or nonstandard supplies will have to be brought in from outside. Additional purchases can add different types of Workshops to your Personal Reality or expand existing ones. Anything built in one of those workshops is fiat backed to be restored to its original condition within 48 hours if damaged or destroyed.

Access Key (Personal Reality) Free: This is a special key which lets you access your Personal Reality and its contents. When inserted into any lock on any door, the door opens to reveal a gateway into your Reality at a predetermined location within it. You are the only person who can take the key from the lock, the gateway remains open as long as the key is in the lock, and if key is ever lost or stolen you will find it in your pocket a few minutes later. You cannot close the door as long as you are inside the Personal Reality.

Entrance Hall (Personal Reality) Free: This is the room your Access Key opens a door to. It starts off as a 5 meter cube with blank white walls, floor, and ceiling, as some doors, one leading to the current Host Reality, the other into your Cosmic Warehouse, with additional doors leading to other extensions as these get added to your Personal Reality. Feel free to customize this Entrance Hall as you see fit. Additional Halls can, at your discretion, be linked only to certain keys or only to certain extensions. This allows you to have an entry hall just for skiing if you want.

Laboratorium (Warhammer 40,000: Light of Terra DLC 3 - A Grand Day Out) 100: Ancient cogitators, arrays of auspex systems, and volume upon volume of documentation supply an Adept with the tools and information necessary to capably analyse a recovered technological artefact.

Micromanipulators (A Certain Scientific Railgun) 50: These rather delicate gloves were meant for scientific purposes. They're reinforced with small motors and electrically contracting artificial muscles to allow you to perform delicate work on the scale of one millionth of a meter. While they're definitely more suited to scientific experiments, they can be put to use in any situation that requires steady hands like aiming a rifle, conducting brain surgery, cooking, defusing a bomb, or even bypassing some redirection and shielding abilities.

Diagnostic Tools (Outlaw Star) 50: A small data display with numerous connectors and scanners, capable of letting you know what is wrong with simple technology and what advanced technology that has been programmed into it.

Class and Specialization (Mass Effect) 100: You will get enough training in your class to be considered an asset to any team. Not to the point of being a keystone. You are considered to be to a similar level when it comes to your specialization. Specializations are various apexes that can be reached. You also get a set of gear per your two choices. Class: Engineer Engineers are pure technology specialists. Although they lack the implants that most other classes wield, they make up for it with their high-spec military grade omni-tools, capable of bypassing shields and armor or incapacitating robotic targets and some synthetics. They can deploy combat drones to harass enemies. Specialization: Mechanic A more purely focus Engineer. From fighters and frigates to Mass Effect fields and automated machines, you know your way around and are aside fairly versed in mechanical theory. You might not know how to build something, but you can almost certainly figure it out with time.

Workshop (Bubblegum Crisis) 100:
You need tools? You have ALL the tools. Using this, you can effectively build and/or repair any damn thing in BGC, though constructing orbital shuttles might take a while. Nevermind getting ahold of the plans.

Apartment (Bubblegum Crisis) Free:
A run down, single-room apartment. Nothing special, but hey, it keeps the rain off. Don't worry too much about the rent.

Civilian Equipment Package (GUNNM/Battle Angel Alita) 100:
Cramped room in the Scrapyard, basic household belongings, clothing, one Heirloom Weapon for free. If you are employed, attached is enough space to setup a workshop, clinic, studio or whatnot.

Heirloom Weapon (GUNNM/Battle Angel Alita) Free with Civilian Equipment Package:
Everyone in the Scrapyard carries something. Yours is a lot better than most, something that an actual professional might carry. Firearms are illegal on penalty of death - but outside the Scrapyard anything goes. As an heirloom, it has seen hundreds of years of loving use and its craftsmanship compares very well to modern technology. To the right person, it could be worth a lot.

Cyber-doctor Equipment Package (GUNNM/Battle Angel Alita) 200:
As Medic, plus powered tools for cyborg disassembly and repair. Bulky diagnostic computer, ten kilograms of miscellaneous spare parts, very rare compact 3D fabricator capable of milling custom components and printing or repairing circuitry. Free Rocket Hammer.

Medic Equipment Package (GUNNM/Battle Angel Alita) Free with Cyber-doctor Equipment Package:
One clean blood-and-dirt-repellent jumpsuit, facemask, kit equivalent to a modern first responder's kit. Assorted drugs and painkillers, and a few roughly bound texts on mutant and human care.

Rocket Hammer (GUNNM/Battle Angel Alita) Free with Cyber-doctor Equipment Package:
A two-handed warhammer with chisel-shaped head mounting a rocket booster that activated by a switch on the shaft. It can be disassembled and comes with a rolling case and replacement parts. A rare weapon in the Scrapyard, while very difficult to control it performs superbly against heavy cyborg armour and is fully legal despite the firearms ban.

Single Style - T'ai Chi Chuan (GUNNM/Battle Angel Alita) Free:
Solid theoretical and practical experience of a single form of personal combat. In the wasteland, what martial arts survive are pragmatic descendants of old world teachings. In the Scrapyard however, there are genuine schools of combat, though they are often overlooked – most human styles are ineffective against the crudest cyborg brawler, and the emphasis is to strike fast and run away faster.
T'ai Chi Chuan –This art is rarely taken seriously, owing to its firm rooting in qigong breathing techniques and ideas about chi, internal balance and fluid control of defence and counterattacks that have little appeal to cyborg fighters. However many elements of it have influenced the most advanced cyborg combat styles, and the therapeutic version is popular enough with the elderly that the original forms survive.

Skyforge (The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim) 200:
An ancient, mysterious, eagle themed forge added to your warehouse. Any metal items crafted at the forge will be significantly harder and stronger for it. Something about the fires.

Standing Stone: The Lover (The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim) Free:
Those under the sign of the Lover learn all skills slightly faster than they otherwise would.

Hidden Hideaway / Laboratory (Valkyria Chronicles) 200:
You've come into possession of a small but out of the way safe-house, providing you with a place to rest and recuperate. This place has enough supplies for 9 people to live for a year or so. Those who have chosen the Scientist origin however, gain an upgrade to this building in the form of an underground laboratory. It is stocked with all the necessary tools and ingredients for a secret lab in the 1930's, along with a few scattered notes on what appears to be a figure surrounded in light.

Ragnite Container (Valkyria Chronicles) Free:
Ragnite is a valuable resource in Europa, and it is unlikely to appear in any other worlds. You receive a container that replenishes once per day. The free level gets you a box the size of a human head.

Garage (Fast and Furious) 100:
You have a nice garage and parts supply. With a few days and some elbow grease, you could basically rebuild your car or cars from the bottom up; you probably have enough parts to keep someone else's ride running or give it an upgrade, too.

The Vehicle (Fast and Furious) Free:
This object barely deserves the title of car, at least in your opinion. A Volkswagen Beetle, a Pinto, or a Yugo, this car technically meets all the criteria and is very cheap, but it would take a master mechanic and a driving god to let it rival even the worst other racers can bring to the table.

Hangar (Ace Combat) 100:
Sure you might be able to get a fighter plane… but where are you going to store it? You can't just leave your vehicle to the mercy of the elements, it would cause all manners of damage to the plane and then you might be really in a bind. That's why if you come out of this with a plane (or end up importing one) you can obtain a hangar bay which has the tools needed to keep the plane in good shape and can stand up to most forms of weather. It can even attach to a property or the Warehouse after your time here should it please you. For an undiscounted +100CP, this turns into an automated hangar bay with heavy arms and equipment to make repairing and moving the plane significantly easier.

Basic Flight Training (Ace Combat) Free:
If you couldn't fly before, you have a basic idea of how to fly a plane now. You know how to maneuver the joystick properly, which button fires the missiles, and how to properly land a plane without creating a multi-million dollar pile of scrap. It won't save you if you dive into a massive swarm of planes all by yourself, but you can learn.

Missile Surplus (Ace Combat) Free:
Well this is odd. Any plane you pilot seems to hold an unnatural number of missiles for its type, far more than it should. You're not sure where it's getting this many missiles, but you'll have to restock them if you run out. The same thing happens with special weapons, though you have to have a working model to attach if you want to swap it out. The standard number of missiles thanks to 'Missile Surplus' is 150 missiles on a plane, barring any differences depending on the description of the weapon.

Comm Chatter (Ace Combat) Free:
While an important part of war is knowing what your opponent is up to, sometimes it's good for puffing your ego up too. For whatever reason, your radio will occasionally catch communications being broadcast from the enemy. This can range from important information to wild surprise at your antics. Not too useful, but good for knowing how you're doing.

Flight Suit (Ace Combat) Free:
When taking off, an important requirement of being in a plane is a flight suit so that the G-forces don't make your organs explode. It sounds silly, but you'll be lucky you had it. So, have a nifty flight suit to help keep any pressure issues down while you're in the sky, on the house. It can come in any color you wish with a snazzy helmet to boot, ensuring that you're the most glamorous pilot in the sky.

4th Generation Fighter Plane (Ace Combat) Free:
These planes have been around for some time now, and as a result some would consider these particular planes to be outdated. It's not the most advanced machine in the sky, but it will get the job done when you need it. Whether it's an MiG-29OVT, an F-18, Su-27 or something else, you can be given a 4th Generation Fighter Plane to do your work and achieve what you need to achieve. Show them that the old ways still work.
Autocannon - Something of a standard on anything that flies in the air, autocannons or gatling guns on a plane's nose can help one shoot down enemy planes or other targets by unleashing a torrent of bullets upon whatever has the misfortune of being in front of your plane at the time. This option will grant a single gun with 1000 rounds.
Standard Missiles - One of the things that is noteworthy regarding just about any plane is the fact that they will carry missiles. The reason is obvious; you need more than just bullets. That's why you have a good supply of missiles, attached to your plane and ready to fire off the moment you achieve radar lock with your plane. It's simple, but it works. Sometimes that's all you need.
Flare Launch System - Flares are fairly important when it comes to aerial combat. After all, you are in enemy airspace. Enemies will want to shoot you with missiles. Ergo, having protection against missiles would be the smart thing to do. Radar-guided missiles can be duped easily, but infra-red missiles that track heat sources are a concern. Thus it is important for this flare countermeasure system to be equipped, allowing you to launch flares while you do a sharp turn and reduce engine power to dupe the missile into hitting the flare instead. It's not perfect… but it could be better than nothing.
Ejection System - You know the old saying of going down with the ship? Yeah, nuts to that. This isn't the navy, this is the Air Force. That's why there's ejection equipment for when your plane gets shot down, assuming said plane wasn't just instantly vaporized by whatever attacked you to begin with.

Advanced Materials Upgrade Kit (Light of Terra 4 - Lords of the Iron Line - Warhammer 40,000) 300:
Plasteel, adamantium, armourplas, synth-leather and other sophisticated materials are used for all sorts of purposes within the Imperium and are typically far more resilient than their archaic equivalents. Archaic styles of armor are seldom effective against advanced weapons, and rarely used in any case, but many of those who hail from primitive cultures favor the styles of wargear they are accustomed to. Wrought from plasteel and armourplas instead of bronze, iron and steel, a suit of chain or plate can be a quite effective defense, often the equal of more modern armors.

Workshop (Samurai Jack) 200:
A small base filled with all the equipment you'll need to work. This lab can be used for your choice of scientific or magical research.

Volcanic Forge (God of War) 300:
The Smith God's power is great, but it is not by his will alone that his works are forged. There is also his tools to consider, and with this you have one such tool. Attached to your Warehouse is a small volcano, a fiery beast that will never fade and never falter. Its power is great, reducing the time you need to break down metals and minerals, reworking them into new forms while increasing their quality and inherent strengths. Should you choose, you may also take a significant hit in forging time to experiment with different metals and minerals, melting and combining them to create a different, newer resource with one quality from the second object in question. Rise, craftsman. Rise and begin your work.

Tool Kit (Macross) 100:
Woah now, Sonny Jim! You don't expect to fix that machine with your bare fingers, do you? Don't go anywhere without the equipment you need to make sure that tech keeps on trucking! A handy dandy set of tools to accommodate for maintaining Variable Fighters. This will make things easier if you want to keep things in shape or just want to poke around and see what's inside!

Serene Sinatra (Macross) Free:
You're no slouch in the singing department, that's for sure. You may not be popular idol material, but no one's going to complain if you decide to sing along to a song or randomly bust out a tune with a voice like this. Who knows, maybe you could practice and get a little better?

Basic Training (Macross) Free:
Piloting a Variable Fighter can be pretty complex. There's all kinds of modes and maneuvers to worry about... with this, you won't have to worry so much. You'll know which button does what, and you won't end up turning into a mech when you need a jet. ...but I reserve the right to laugh if you mess up anyway

Space Suit (Macross) Free:
A futuristic, spandex space suit that will let you survive for 20 minutes in deep space. It's really more in case your vehicle gets stranded, but otherwise it's pretty darn cool looking.

Basic Variable Fighter (Macross) Free:
Your good ol' Fisher Price Veritechs! They may be the beginning, but they're classics and were the groundwork for future generations. Editions like the VF-1A Valkyrie (or its other variants), the YF-4, VF-2SS or the VF-4 Lightning III are made available for your stay here. It can transform in the atmosphere and operate in space, but it cannot reach escape velocity on its own. Comes with basic armaments and like all Variable Fighters can transform into a Jet, a Mech, or a 'middle' form called Guardian Mode.

Knowledge

Not A Stupid Grunt (Mass Effect) 100: That you are not. You are smart enough to be the foremost scientist in your field. This doesn't make you so, but you could get there on your own with not a terrible amount of effort. Still not as smart as a drell, but hey, who is?

Grease Monkey (Bubblegum Crisis 2032) 300: What can you fix or build? What CAN'T you fix or build? Nothing, that's what. From hyper-cars to Buma, computers to Hardsuits, with the right tools and enough time and experiments, you can build it all, weaponry included

Skills: Physics (Star Trek - TNG+DS9) 100: How the universe works. The law of gravity, the conservation of matter & energy, quantum physics, etc. Remember though, there are dozens of creatures in this universe that defy the laws of human physics, so you may want to try and rewrite a few of these books while your here.

Engineering (Teen Titans) 100:
You're a master mechanic and an expert at building robots and other technological devices. You also have a fair bit of knowledge about hacking into computers.

Machines, They Just Speak To Me (Firefly) 200:
You have no formal schooling, but can fine-tune and repair engines with nothing but shoe polish. You don't know what the parts are SUPPOSED to do, but you know how to make them work the way you want. You can diagnose a faulty part in the power core just by listening to the AC cycle, and can fix pretty much anything with naught but a wrench and some duct tape. It may not be pretty, and it may not last long, but it'll work.

Xenospecialist (Gears of War) 200:
The problem with fighting and violence is that it's no place for an egghead, and as a result valuable information could be lost to a wayward grenade before study. You've taken it upon yourself to bring that knowledge back, and as such you have an easier time understanding alien language and technology. It won't give you instant knowledge, but as you study further you will find it becomes easier to comprehend.

COG Armor (Gears of War) Free:
Standard issue armor that's made of multiple metal plates. On the back of the suit is a magnetic 'holster', that resembles a general infantry backpack, allowing people to carry two weapons on their backs. The armor provides medium protection against damage (multiple assault rifle shots only bruise the wearer), but will not withstand concentrated or sustained gunfire. Helmet optional.

Combat Boots (Gears of War) Free:
They're thick, they're heavy, and they'll serve you well. Along with giving excellent comfort and protection from the myriad of terrains you'll find here, they're also very handy for stomping the heads of enemies like watermelons at a comedian show.

MX8 Snub Pistol (Gears of War) Free:
The standard sidearm for all COG soldiers, this weapon makes up for its low damage and small 12-round magazine through a high rate of fire and its impressive accuracy. Expect to find ammo for it everywhere. Weapon purchases will grant a small stockpile of them inside your warehouse to equip your allies with.

COG Tags (Gears of War) Free:
A form of identification that takes the form of a necklace with small gear-shaped tags. They will have whatever identification you desire upon them.

Personal Digital Assistant (Gears of War) Free:
There is still a reliance on technology, even if the war with the Locust make things... problematic. With this, you'll have an easier time with Command and keeping track of your data.

Weapon Reload System (Gears of War) Free:
You will also gain a weapon reload system inside the warehouse for the unique weapons you may have purchased from this jump.

Imulsion (Gears of War) Free:
Upon completion of this jump, you gain a small pump in your Warehouse that can supply you with fifty gallons worth of Imulsion per month. Do be careful when handling this, especially around other biological organisms.

Engineer (Halo UNSC) 200:
Yet by understanding the nature of computer systems, wouldn't it be prudent to understand the technology those systems command? After all, what if you found yourself needing to recalibrate a Magnetic Accelerator Cannon or repair one of the dangerous Shaw-Fujikawa Translight Engines that makes faster-than-light travel possible? What if you found a cache of human weaponry that could be used if someone managed to repair it? While you don't have the skill to create something as complex as a Shaw-Fujikawa Translight Engine, you'll know your way around it just like much of Humanity's 26th century technology. You might even figure out how to make small improvements to the technology if you had the time to sit down and look it over. Hopefully the Covenant give you that time.

Standard Neural Interface (Halo UNSC) Free:
As the requirements of war and militarized technology moved forward, the requirements it puts upon its soldiers was likewise changed. This is one such example, being a brain implant that all members of the UNSC obtain upon entering service. It carries a multitude of functions, integrating with armor worn to provide a heads-up display directly into one's optic nerve instead of on the helmet screen while providing an IFF tag for allied soldiers. Such implants are small enough that there is no visible signs outside the body, and sometimes people have forgotten they even had it until its functions come up.

M274 Mongoose (Halo UNSC) Free:
Some vehicles just weren't designed for combat in mind… at least that's what one would think upon seeing an all-terrain vehicle like this. Being designed to go over nearly any terrain without much difficulty and able to carry an additional passenger on the back in a pinch, the Mongoose is one of the fastest land vehicles in the UNSC. It's highly effective in regards to rapid transportation, reconnaissance and swift tactical versatility. The downsides? Its light mass and lack of armor means it can be unwieldy at times and can be taken out rather easily.

M6C Magnum (Halo UNSC) Free:
Something of a standard issue to the UNSC Marine forces, the M6C is a semiautomatic, recoil-operated, magazine-fed handgun that fires 12.7×40mm (.50 caliber) Semi-ArmorPiercing, High-Penetration rounds. While it does considerable amounts of damage towards flesh-based infantry, Covenant energy shielding might pose a problem and so this weapon is often relegated to a defensive role.

M9 Fragmentation Grenade (Halo UNSC) Free:
When you can't shoot them, blow them up. Coming with a hard metal casing that's meant to break apart upon the explosion, this grenade has a safety feature in that it must hit a hard surface after it has been primed before it can detonate, ensuring that it does not explode in the user's hand. It can also come with a 'spoon' so that it must leave the user's hand before it explodes as well. Either way, a small button on the 'handle' is the method of priming these grenades.

UNSC Marine Corp Battle Dress Uniform (Halo UNSC) Free:
The kind of armor you will generally see on the rank-and file troopers, this model has seen a great deal of use and has been spotted since the early days of the Insurrection. It comes with a CH252 Helmet that has a basic heads-up display to keep track of ammunition and your targeting reticle along with a flashlight and radio system, strong boots and fatigues to keep one protected from the elements while having quite a few pockets to keep things in, and ballistics armor over the torso, shoulder and shin. Ballistic armor may optionally include thighs, groin, and forearms as well for the cautious types. This armor provides good resistance against ballistic ammunition but does little against Covenant plasma rounds. Perhaps you could become skilled at dodging oncoming fire. This armor comes in any camouflage color scheme of your choice.

Build That Wall (Bastion) 100:
You know the basics of Caelondian technology. You understand how to harness the semimystical power of Cores and turn it into usable Mantic energy, to power basic machinery, shortrange flying machines, computers, and a variety of other uses. More interestingly, you can use Core power to reinforce existing structures, running a Matic current through it to enhance whatever physical properties it possesses usually durability, though other uses are possible. This is what allowed structures like the Rippling Wall and the Bastion to survive the Calamity as well as they did. You also gain basic skill for mundane construction.

Phonograph (Bastion) Free:
An old-fashioned hand-cranked phonograph. Very sturdy, gives much higher-quality sound than you'd expect. Has a single record with the full OST for the Bastion game, as well as several additional Caelondian and Ura folk songs.

Analysis (Red Alert 3) 100:
You can immediately identify any defects in hardware upon casual observation. This is effective on devices, Vehicles, and buildings.

Analysis (Adventure Time) 300:
You have the skill and insight to make powerful analytical tools. Such tools are capable of showing you the physical makeup of the things you come across, detect magic and alert you to hidden doorways.

Skills: Physical Sciences (Star Trek - TNG+DS9) 100:
Understanding of the natural laws which govern the physical world. Biology, chemistry, geology and ecology. Again, you may want to rewrite a few of these books while you're here.

Skills: Combat (Star Trek - TNG+DS9) 100:
Hand to hand fighting is an ancient and quintessential skill for every soldier no matter what time period.

I Am Iron Man (Marvel Cinematic Universe) 400:
You're not the ACTUAL Iron Man, but you could make a fairly decent knock-off. Power armors, sonic cannons, holographic interface, laser weapons, repulsor technology, you have the knowledge to build these things and more. Furthermore, you can think of different upgrades and modifications to adapt to different situations much easier than normal when presented with a problem that's hampered your technological progress.

Valkyrian Science (Valkyria Chronicles) 300:
Somehow you've gained some of the knowledge that the Valkyrur used to possess, giving you the skill and ability to graft Ragnite machinery on a level far above any modern human. At first, you'd only be able to create replica's of the Valkyrian weapons, but with many years of study it might be possible to recreate the Valkyrur themselves.

Vehicles

Black Thumb (Mad Max Gauntlet) 100: You have the skills of an expert mechanic, able to keep vehicles running even in the most inhospitable conditions. Repairing and tuning up engines is your bread and butter, even while they're still operating. You also have a feel for how to upgrade cars in more esoteric ways; hey, it takes skill to add that many spikes and not hurt the handling!

Aerospace Engineering Makes Things Go Fast (Kerbal Space Program) 100: You have an intuitive grasp on the mechanics of wind-flow, material sciences, atmospheric drag, tensile strengths, rocketry, so on and so forth, and how it applies to the art of designing vehicles that traverse the sky and space.

Mechanic (Fast and Furious) 100: Machines, especially ones that go fast, just speak to you. You have no problem fixing up and tuning any motor vehicle, and can rebuild them after the most devastating crashes. You can keep anything in top condition with just a few simple tools. Of course, you also need to understand the electronics, so hotwiring cars (and sometimes, alarm systems) is not a problem either.

Fingers of Silver (Macross) 200: While other kids were building tinker-toy creations, you were fiddling with your dad's car and doing a better job than him. By purchasing this, meddling with machines and OverTechnology is as easy as breathing for you. By getting your hands on something, you can easily figure out how it works and how to copy its inner workings, provided that it wasn't just bullshit magic. The more advanced something is, the harder it may be... but with time and effort, you just might succeed.

Valuable Memories: the nature of memories (Big O) 300:
You have knowledge related to any particular concept-the construction of Megadei, the nature of memories, Bigs, or the creation of chimeras. Paradigm will have a vested interest in you, and will protect you and provide you with funds if you work for them.

Valuable Memories:the construction of Megadei (Big O) 300:
You have knowledge related to any particular concept-the construction of Megadei, the nature of memories, Bigs, or the creation of chimeras. Paradigm will have a vested interest in you, and will protect you and provide you with funds if you work for them.

Valuable Memories -the creation of chimeras (Big O) 300:
You have knowledge related to any particular concept-the construction of Megadei, the nature of memories, Bigs, or the creation of chimeras. Paradigm will have a vested interest in you, and will protect you and provide you with funds if you work for them.

Time

Scientist: Machinery (Girl Genius) 100: You have a DOCTORATE! And skill in ACTUAL SCIENCE! That doesn't need you to go crazy to work! Admittedly, it won't break the fabric of space and time, but meh. Tradeoffs everywhere you go. You're highly trained in one field, and can easily apply its principles to your work. After all, building a crazed abomination upon the natural order usually requires at least a smidgen of understanding of which bones are supposed to go where (Even if you end up changing them around a little). At the very least, you're also in the genius range of standard intelligence.

Machinist (Gargoyles) 200: You are an expert mechanic. You can rebuild and improve a helicopter in 12 hours or create a functional motorcycle from spare parts. If honed, this ability will let you make nearly anything from incredibly advanced robots to nanite swarms in only a few months time.

Workaholic (Sonic The Hedgehog) 300:
Sometimes you wonder how some geniuses are able to build entire armadas within days or weeks of their last defeat. You become a walking factory of production. Building in masse is something that comes without issue to you. That one bot that took a week to build? Now that one bot is now 5. Or roughly 3x the size it was before. How do you even have the resources to build so much you say? The hell if I know.

Don't Need A Team (Ace Combat) 100:
Fighter planes are pretty complicated machines, and more often than not you need a whole crew to maintain them so that they don't break down in the middle of a fight and doom the pilot. You know your plane well enough to circumvent this issue. You've got just the right idea on what needs tuning up and what needs fixing, along with having the speed to be able to fix a plane up by yourself without the need for a crew in a fraction of the time. Performance issues are a thing of the past for you.

Most Holy Order of the Socket Wrench (Fast and Furious) 400:
You are a master mechanic. Repair and upkeep is nice, but you can go beyond the impossible and improve any vehicle. Take a van and make it beat a supercar? Put NOS injectors on a bicycle (and make it work)? How bout something challenging? And anything you can build up you can tear down, too. You're a one-man chop shop and wiring a car to explode takes but a few moments and some chicken wire.

Savvy Sultan (Macross) 400:
When people think of building things, they think of you. Provided you had the resources and the understanding of the technology, you could construct all manners of machines in a fourth of the time it would normally take. By yourself. You're no slouch with any of your tools either, wielding them with the precision of a machine with no loss of speed. Quality and a deadline? No problem.

Researcher (Age of Mythology) 400:
You are far faster at designing and discovering new technologies. Inspiration and breakthroughs hit you far more often.

Manufacturing Line (Valkyria Chronicles) 400:
You've always been of the opinion that technology advanced too slowly before you arrived, but now you can apply that to the physical world as well! Any building process you oversee, whether it be the forging of a sword or an entire tank factory, will now produce results twice as fast and with half the required materials used.

Crafting

Smithing (Thundercats 2011) 200: The ancient art of working with metal to forge weapons and armor. You know how to make beautiful equipment that can survive countless battles and you could even forge a legendary weapon if you dedicated enough time to it, although it'd probably take at least several years to complete.

High-Frequency Manufacturer (Metal Gear Rising) 300:
A blade launderer, huh? Anyway, you can now make a HF blade out of anything you want. Depending on the original craftsmanship of the weapon, it could be good or shit. But if you picked this, you probably have something in mind.
Must be a physical object. No lightsabers and the like.
Yes, blunt objects can become HF weapons. No, they can't cut. They only get stronger, and can resist other HF weapons.

Weapon Modifications (Archer) 100:
You design and modify weapons with flair, creativity, and skill.

Armourer (Light of Terra DLC 5 A Sky Filled With Steel - Warhammer 40,000) 300:
A mental database containing information on the most common types of armour found in the Necromunda Hive and how to build, repair and maintain them. While this doesn't sound impressive, it is worth pointing out there are countless billions of people dwelling within the hive, and they have been here for millenia - the list of things counted as common at one time or another ranges from Power Armour in the distant past to the more common hammered metal plates made by local Gangers to the standard Imperial Guard Carapace Armour. Don't expect to start churning out Adetus Astartes Power Armour the second you get this though - the infrastructure to build the infrastructure to build the infrastructure to build the armour was lost to ruin a long time ago. There's a reason the Space Marines use suits thousands of years old.

Fingers of the North Star (Cave Story) 200:
You have a natural talent with machinery, and this extends to firearms creation. You can disassemble, analyze, and reassemble any projectile weapon you come across, and you have the ability to create unique, one of a kind guns that utilizes odd and esoteric technology. You also gain a free 'stamp' you can apply to any weapon you create, to show it's your work. Upgrading existing weapons is a breeze as well.

Engineer (Super Mario RPG) 300:
You're more adept at coming up with novel and creative objects. Any blueprint can be held perfectly in your mind without needing to draw it on paper.

Master Craftsman (Forgotten Realms) 300:
You are exceptionally skilled at crafting things. At your worst, your results are masterwork.

Customized Weapons (XCOM) 100:
You know that efficiency is number one, because waste is a thief. You know how to make the best designs better, and will ensure that the equipment in use is ergonomic, streamlined, and efficient.

Dwarven Craft (Lord of the Rings) 400:
You are a master smith, able to singlehandedly run even a large forge. You can make weapons and armor that stand up to hundreds of years of continuous use, and even know how to mine and forge mystical metals such as Mithril.

The Arcane Craft (Sword and Sorcery) 300:
As much as you might look down upon brutes and barbarians who know only how to break bone and spill blood, you and the warriors of this land have one thing in common. You require the tools of your trade. You know all the methods and ways to bind arcane and mysterious forces into physical vessels. Rings, staves, talismans, warded stone towers, and even more. These items allow the channeling of such forces to work your will, capturing, bending, and shaping the worlds invisible tides to enable works of sorcery and occult splendor. The strength of these items and their effects rely on your skill, knowledge, and power. Of course should you yourself be a font of such forces from your varied lives then you would be surely capable of building the focuses and talismans to augment and amplify your power. The world rewards men for diligent labor. It would behoove you to refine this art to get everything you can out of it. This also includes the skill to use such items, even those not made by your hand should you have the ability to reveal their secrets.

Bandit Gunsmith (Borderlands) 100:
You have amazing technical insight and when shown to a pile of broken weapons or energy shields you can use parts from some to reassemble others into decent condition. Don't expect it to be pretty, but you can nail 15 repeater pistols together to make a functional shotgun, or use bits of five shields to make one that works.

Weaponsmith (Light of Terra DLC 5 A Sky Filled With Steel - Warhammer 40,000) 300:
To weaponry what Armourer is to protective gear, this is a massive database of the various tools of mayhem the denizens of the Necromunda hive have wielded against each other. While the high tech equipment possible may seem nice, do not underestimate the value of low tech weaponry. Crafting a plasma pistol and crafting a bayonet require wildly different sets of skills, and all too often people who have one assume they have the other, to their chagrin.

Clothing

Fashion (Highschool of the Dead) 200: Your clothing and entire body acquire defensive properties equal to the most superior protective items you have currently equipped. Emphasis on protective item- an iron or steel ring won't give you metal-tough skin- the minimum is things like knee pads from extreme sports, helmets- even an apron would count, though all that'd do is protect you from the dangers of a kitchen...

Life Fiber Spool (Kill la Kill) 400: A medium-sized spool of Life Fiber. It's only enough to maybe make a pair of gloves out of, but with the proper knowledge, one could create Goku Uniforms- Or enhance existing articles of clothing to be like Goku Uniforms. One spool of thread is enough to make several one-star outfits, three two-star outfits, or a single three-star outfit, assuming you have the knowledge of how to work with Life Fibers.

Garment Gloves (Dodgeball) 200: These are a pair of pure white gloves. Bound to them is an intelligence with a mind for fashion: a designer, seamstress, clothier, and tailor without mortal peer. It has the ability to scry for fashion based information from international trends to precise measurements. Given materials and orders, it will industriously produce fine apparel, producing any modifications, clothing, footwear, accessories, etc that is within theoretical mortal ability. It has sufficient telekinesis to move itself and to independently suspend materials. It must be provided with materials, though it may be provided a lump sum or budget with which to magically acquire materials at cost. You may wear the gloves to channel the skills (but not powers) of the entity, perhaps even learning from it.

The Flock's Fleece (Actraiser) 400: Men and women have not wandered the wilds naked since the long-gone days of the Garden. Whether they knew it or not, the act of clothing oneself is one that at once protects and isolates. A shirt or a robe is a metaphorical armor against the elements, against shame and against the prying eyes of others. You are such a skilled craftsman that you can take the 'metaphorical' part out of the equation. You're a one-person clothing creator and tailor, able to take the raw materials of silk, cotton, wool and hide...and then with almost no tools produce wondrous clothing, fitted just right for anyone who dares try the garments on. They're protective vestments against the harsh elements, able to keep people in comfortable condition be they in the deserts of Kasandora or the icy plains of Northwall. Not only that, but people who wear them find that they'll be kept safer from the claws of beasts or the swords of their enemies, acting as a light chain-mail mesh despite being soft and maneuverable fabric.

Juggernaut (Terraria) 200:
Your armor is a lot more effective at doing what it does just by the sheer virtue of it being latched onto and wrapped around your fleshy bits. Not to get too far into the math of it, your armor is about half-again more effective than it would be otherwise.

Secular Skills (Red Dwarf) 200:
Through growing up in a society in which religion tried to stem the natural instincts of the cat people towards vanity and good looks, you learned to craft amazing clothes and outfits from the most base materials and tools, and don't worry they all will look fantastic.

Putting On The Reich (Indiana Jones) 200:
They may fear your tenacity. They may hate your cause. They may even oppose your beliefs. But one thing remains constant: A begrudging respect for the aura of organization and sharpness you give off. You have an excellent sense of how to design uniforms that not only are intimidating and show the power of your group, but are also fashionable and make your group look organized, official in a way. It's time to show them who's Boss.

Tailor (Kill la Kill) 300:
You have the knowledge of how to safely work with life fibers, and how to make them into clothing that empowers (or inhibits) the wearer. In addition, because you know how Life Fiber uniforms work, you know their weak spots better than anyone.

Magic

Magic: Enchanting (Samurai Jack) 200: You can grant magical properties to weapons by marking them with ancient runes. Right now you only know how to give weapons elemental properties but you can learn more enchantments by studying other enchanted and magical weapons.

Maliwan Intern (Borderlands) 200:
At some point, you got lucky and figured out how Elemental Weapons really work. You know how to use them to best effect, allowing you to set enemies on fire regularly, melt people with acid bullets, and have ALL kinds of shocking adventures with electrical ammo. If you have any technical training, you can even jury-rig ways to apply elemental effects to other weapons, as well.

Advanced Materials (XCOM 2) 200:
As you experiment the physics and rules of a world ideas for new materials come to you. Elements and compounds from different universes often follow the same rules after all, so it should be theoretically possible to mix them. While you are developing new materials for your projects you will instinctively know whether or not materials will be compatible with each other and roughly how strong they will be. You will not know the exact ratio or procedure you will need to perform to fabricate these exotic materials, and it's not guaranteed that every material will be compatible with each other, but development will be made a lot easier.

Elven Enchantment (Lord of the Rings) 500:
You can enchant objects, if you pour energy into them as they are created. Some of your enchantments are useful in battle, such as swords that never dull and bows that always strike true, but most are simply to ease the life of the wearer, such as cloaks that weigh nothing and aid in hiding and water-flasks that never leak. You may also perform great workings, such as the creation of hidden doorways, given time.

Heretical Adaptation (Senki Zesshou Symphogear) 200:
Symphogears are, in essence, a Relic adapted into a combat system for it's ability to generate massive amounts of energy that can be formatted into a certain kind of matter through a generic mass-energy converter. However, they also have the ability to 'evolve' overtime, gaining additional armor and improvements to features such as onboard thrusters. With a bit of study, it might be possible to apply this adaptive behavior to other materials, encouraging them to improve themselves over time.

Calling Card (Senki Zesshou Symphogear) Free:
You spent a lot of time coming up with your combat techniques. It's only fair to name them! When you make an attack that's above par, time almost seems to freeze for a second, and all those onlooking instinctively recognize the name and intended theme of the technique. This effect can be toggled.

Quality

Bling of War (Macross) 100: It's one thing to have a weapon or vehicle of mass destruction, capable of rending an entire ground force or a squadron to shame. It's another to make it look so damn good your enemies would not dare get near it if they had a lick of sense. By purchasing this perk, you can design your equipment to look much more stylish and carry a 'theme' you prefer. This can range from the clothes you wear, to the weapons you wield, to even the vehicles you pilot into battle. It's all about style.

Decadence (Dune) 100: You have the skills to sacrifice neither form nor function when you design, create, or arrange things, which is especially important in a society whose upper crust values opulence the way this society does -- after all, the Emperor's throne is carved out of a single massive gemstone. Whether it's interior decorating, crafting a knife or sword, building furniture or a vehicle... you can make it appeal perfectly to the most crass or the upper crust. You can also figure out the optimal decor for any purpose or environment, which includes the best places to hide discreet surveillance devices.

Stylish Mechanic (Gurren Lagann) 100: In addition to knowing how to repair and create mechanical devices you also have quite a knack at making anything you work on look good. Any time you fix something it'll end up clean and pleasant to look at, and you can easily come up with humorous or awe-inspiring designs for vehicles and devices.

Beauty in the Arts (God of War) 200: The Greeks and their gods have an eye for the aesthetics of their surroundings. Whether it is the statues around them, or the floors they walk upon, or the things they carry and wield, it is better if it is appealing. Your ability to design any of your crafts has increased with this knowledge, able to appeal to form without sacrificing function. Regardless of what you create, it's going to look good enough that the gods might take notice... might. Whether this is a good thing or a bad thing is for you to decide.

Unnatural Skill:Smith (Percy Jackson) 200:
Whether from your heritage or just being that good you've got one particular mundane skill that your feats with border on supernatural. Whether you're a smith on the level of the Cyclopses, a near prescient tactician or a swordsman who is ny unstoppable with a blade your feats will be legendary. You are on a level within your skill such that only other beings of legend can hope to match you. This may be taken multiple times. You may not choose magic but you may choose a particular application of magic if you have it already (so curses, enchanting might work, more specific gets a bigger boost).

Tailor Made (Career Model) 100:
You are a brilliant designer, and can ensure objects you create are always looking fantastic, aesthetically pleasing and the like. Making something look good no longer takes any time or effort you can focus entirely on function, and whatever you make will look outstanding.

Do One Thing At A Time (Dinotopia) 300:
When you focus yourself on doing a single task, your skill and efficiency doubles. Material requirements are unaffected, but time taken is halved and quality is doubled.

Ambrosial Artificer (Macross) 400:
So many moving parts, so many pieces to the puzzle. It's so... needless. The other tech teams are complete morons. That's why you've learned how to figure out the optimization of your complex machines like Veritechs. What parts you don't need, you find a way to do away with. What parts you DO need, you can use the now-extra space to improve and bolster their performance. Some will call you mad. But the only madness that will come from your work is the rage of your enemies and rivals.

Divine Child - Hephaestus (Percy Jackson) 400:
You are the direct child of a god of your associated pantheon and gain various benefits from this. You gain lesser manifestations of your parent's domains as well as generally being better than an ordinary mortal. You may take most any god as your parent but to take one of the heads of a pantheon as a parent you must take the "Fate finds you interesting" drawback receiving no points for it (you can also do this with a lesser god to get greater powers). Generally this will give you insight into and some control over your divine parent's domains, a son of Poseidon for example can control water and ships, talk to horses, cause minor earthquakes and is empowered within water.

Old Traditions (Percy Jackson) Free:
You are knowledgeable in the ways of the ancient civilization corresponding to whatever mythology you're most connected with. You can read their languages, know the proper ways to honor the gods, and have a decent grasp of their mythology. Otherwise unassociated Drop-ins may choose any one ancient culture to know of. You may purchase this multiple times, each time gaining insight into a new culture.

Lathe of Heaven (Chrono Trigger) 400:
We're always going to need weapons, so the way I see it, you might as well get good at making them. Now? You'll be able to give old man Melchior a run for his money. Swords, guns, armor, even sunglasses - if it's worn or wielded, you can make it a masterpiece. You'll also learn how to make use of any material, bringing out its best qualities and minimizing its weaknesses. You could make bone sharper than steel, gold sturdier than titanium, and take a legendary material nobody's ever seen before, and figure out how to forge it, what to alloy it with, and how to craft that alloy into an impossibly sharp sword or some amazing shades.

Master Craftsman (King Arthur) 600:
Thanks to being taught by faeries anything you make by hand is a great deal better than anything regular human can make. Armor is nearly indestructible and lighter than it should be, blades are sharper, blunt weapons have more force behind them, bows and crossbows can shoot farther and are easier to pull back. Even mundane items like baskets work better, though you can't give items mystical powers without being a wizard or something.

Fate Finds You Interesting (Percy Jackson) 300:
You must take the "Fate finds you interesting" drawback receiving no points for it (you can also do this with a lesser god to get greater powers).
(This boost the power of Divine Child)

Minor Blessing Athena - Craftsmanship (Percy Jackson) 100:
For one reason or another you've got a god who cares slightly about you and has seen fit to grant you some minor boon within their domains. Choose one god from any pantheon and gain a minor boon from them. The god will care slightly about you but unless you go on to further distinguish yourself it will be more of a minor interest in your affairs than someone they feel the need to help (Effectively think a diminished version of one ability a demigod might have, think minor ones are stuff along the lines of breathing water, lucid dreaming, or appropriate vague extra senses, useful but nothing especially major). This can be taken multiple times.

Aesthetics and Flair (Bayonetta) 100:
A gun isn't quite a gun until it LOOKS good, you know? It's supposed to be classy, make you look amazing just for having it. Likewise, that sword could use a bit of badass styling to it. When you create your weapons, you can make them look DAMNED good even on an off day. Expect any weapon creator to envy you, and those who die by your weapons to count themselves lucky as they perish to such beautiful art.

Inexplicable Innuendo (Bayonetta) Free:
You're not sure how, but just by being here you've gotten the jive of things. Any time you want to come off as sexy or just talk in a lightheartedly dirty manner, it's easy as pie for you. Want to make some people squirm with an implication? Done. You can even implement this in your battle quips, throwing them off their game for that moment of distraction you need.

Classy Contortionist (Bayonetta) Free:
Um... this is something. You've got an innate sense of posing that you can utilize, whether it be to show off your sexiness or simply throw people off their game. It's got all kinds of applications, and no matter what you're always going to look good. Throw it into your battle styles or something.

Size

Nanite Sciences (Generator Rex) 100: You possess in depth knowledge of nanite technologies. With sufficient equipment and resources you could produce and control nanite machines, possibly even recreate the nanite event or maybe figure out how to reverse its effects. But that would take a long time of additional study of nanites out in the world, still you might be one of the few who could attempt this endeavor. You possess no knowledge of the meta-nanites, and understanding how they work is beyond your grasp.

Master Builder (Transformers) 400: You've been programmed with mastery of Cybertronian science allowing you jury rig any tech you see, as well allowing you to quickly build even the most complex Cybertronian tech within a reasonable time period. Smaller devices are almost instant, larger devices take some time and more components. However with enough material you can build a temporary space bridge. Despite your mastery of Cybertonian science, creation of a Spark and therefore intelligent life, organic or inorganic is beyond you.

Nanite Removal and Control (Generator Rex) 400: Many in this world would consider this is your most important ability, you can control nanites and absorb them into yourself, reverting dangerous mutations and can help people regain control of themselves. At first however this power will only work on willing targets, and will not work on incurable, especially virulent nanite infested EVOs. However with training and time, your powers can grow to circumvent these rules. Your greatest limitation is the fact that as you absorb nanites your reservoirs fill to the breaking point, causing dangerous flare ups and renders your abilities unstable. You can purge these nanities, but figuring out how to do so in a safe way with a large amount of unstable nanites may take some effort. After this Jump your nanites can be used to heal people, whether of wounds, diseases, or possibly even mutations or others turned into a monster. Success will vary depending on factors, a mystical curse is probably beyond your nanites, a really out of this world super virus might be cured, but that's iffy. If you happen to run into other nanites in other jumps, you could control and manipulate them as well.

Hybridization Theory (Zoids: Legacy) 400: So one day you had a bit of spare time after your daily Zoid admiration hour. After taking a close look at your favorite Gojulas and your favorite Mad Thunder, you decided that if the Gojulas could wield the Mad Thunder's Magnesser Drills like an arm weapon, you could probably reenact that scene from the show you watched two days back on the professor's hi-def television. Those mechanics can slap on parts and scavenge however they like. You can literally merge two machines together into one, with twice the processing power as before. Mind you, Zoids typically won't respond well to suddenly sharing a body with another core and another mind, but you'll have ethical uses for this...right? For most mundane machinery, you don't need any power source besides your own, but be careful that should you make your machine too big, the internal power supply might not be enough to feed it.

Science! Mechanics (Transformers) 100: Your programming is focused on either Mechanics, Medical, or a field of Science (Pick One), this gives you equivalent of a Cybertronian PHD in that field of study.

Science! Engineering (Transformers) 100: Your programming is focused on either Mechanics, Medical, or a field of Science (Pick One), this gives you equivalent of a Cybertronian PHD in that field of study.

They're Like Legoes, Right? (Kerbal Space Program) 200:
There's robust engineering, and then there's modularity. Pick one. Except for you - you seem to have the gift of designing methods that allow for seamless mixing and matching of modular technology that lack none of the parts incompatibility and fragility you'd except from such a design paradigm. While this seems focused on Kerbin technology in specific, a little work should have you applying such a paradigm to all sorts of technologies...

Tinkerer (RWBY) 300:
You're a whiz at maintaining, modifying and making things. Everything from Sniper Scyfles to Toaster Ovens, as long as you made it yourself or had the blueprints on hand. Unlock the secret of Variable Weapon Crafting.

Aura (RWBY) Free:
You start off with an unlocked aura.

Dust (RWBY) Free:
Dust comes in four basic types: red fire, blue ice, green wind and yellow energy. They can be combined to make new variations.
After this jump, small amounts of Dust will appear in the Warehouse weekly. Enough for a firefight or two at once. Dust augmentation is found to increase the effectiveness of weaponry and ammunition.

Variable Weapon (RWBY) Free:
It's a thing that turns into another thing! One gun and one melee weapon, together at last.

Scroll (RWBY) Free:
Think a smartphone, with terrible wilderness reception, video camera, messaging and more! Practically a passport for civilized society.

Gadget Master (007) 300:
You've been trained by Major Boothroyd at the skills of his job. You're excellent at creating and maintaining gadgets of all types. You can miniaturize nearly anything, and hide things in forms that... really shouldn't work. You can even make lasers! You're also good at coming up with ideas for unusual methods of assassination; beheading umbrellas, flamethrower bagpipes, and the like.

Resources and Durability

Built to Last (Assassin's Creed) 300: Whatever you personally build, be it handheld or architectural, becomes nigh-impervious to weather, rust and time. If it gets lost or buried, you can 'feel' it out too!

Rationing (Mad Max Gauntlet) 100: When you don't have much, it's important to be careful with what you've got. You're very good at saving supplies, ensuring that anything you find of use stays found and that it doesn't get wasted by accident. You'll get every last drop of fuel from a can, and never drop some plastic tubing just because you can't think of a use at the moment.

Repair Savvy (Outlaw Star) 100: Your skills in mechanics are top notch. Your weapons, armor, and personal equipment are all easy to repair, and maintenance of all of them takes mere minutes instead of hours.

Element Analysis (Bomberman 64: The Second Attack) 100:
With a little elbow grease, you can easily identify the elemental composition of ANY material and with the right resources, break it down to its base elements for further use.

Reliable Invention (Kim Possible) 200:
Anything you construct is only broken when used improperly or purposefully targeted with attacks. The items you create do not malfunction and are completely resistant to damage caused by regular usage.

Simple Scientific Solution (Tenchi Muyo) 100:
Science solves everything, even the little household problems. You can create supertech improvements to common tools and appliances, up to and including automobiles or similar works of engineering.
Create dishwashers that can clean dishes in an instant, self heating plumbing or forcefield windowpanes that act as air conditioners.
Well established methodologies and an instinctive grasp of same allow you to draw conclusions or produce results incredibly fast. You halve the time it takes to gather data, compose research on some subject, or devise a test to prove/disprove something handy for when you have to figure out an enemy fortresses's one weakness.

Lack of Materials (God of War) 400:
Times are tough in this land. Forces beyond knowing, monsters that roam the lands, and gods who are as petty as they are powerful. With chaos such as this, there are times you may not be able to get everything of what you need. But you've learned to make do. You can get the most out of your materials, using two bars of metal where you might need four, or three hides when you needed six. Of course, if you DO have all the materials required you can use them to make your creations more effective in quality and capability as well. So maybe it doesn't hurt to put the extra mile in.

Scrapper (Fallout 4) 300:
You have the capability to dismantle and repurpose objects for your own creations; even ones that you might not fully understand. So long as it's not hopelessly beyond your understanding, indestructible, or ridiculously big, you're capable of taking most things and reducing them to their base components, salvaging any working parts with only a few days of work at the worst.

Starting Gear (Fallout 4) 0:
You get faction appropriate clothing (normal clothes for Drop Ins and Railroad, a uniform for BOS, lab coat for Institute, and a hodge-podge of leather and scrap metal for Raiders) and your choice of a 10mm pistol, brass knuckles, a security baton, a machete, or a laser pistol (regular or Institute), as well as 100 Caps

Robust Engineering (Dune) 300:
Ten thousand years of stagnation in technology is a very long time... and now you know how to apply the lessons of those millennia to the construction of anything you have. Mass production does not exist any longer and even relatively common items are made as if masterwork quality, because aside from obvious cheap items, they have been built to last longer than the person using them. Expect anything you construct by hand to be able to last centuries, as long as you take a little extra time while you make it. With the amount of time you're going to be around... you may need that sort of quality.

Waste Not (Monster Hunter) 300:
You have found out a great secret in the blacksmithing trade - the reason that most blacksmiths usually ask for so many materials to make a certain weapon or armor isn't because its material intensive, but because they can make one for half of the materials and either sell the rest or make another to sell at a profit. The bastards! You have figured out how to use less materials to gain the same results when it comes to crafting your own weapons and armor. At first it may just be an ore or two less, but with enough practice you can reduce the amount of materials needed for a project by half (rounded down). As an added bonus, with enough practice, you have a 50% chance to not require high-grade or legendary materials (Rubied, Plates, etc) to make an item, provided you can supplement the build with excess materials.

Weapon & Item Storage Chest (Monster Hunter) Free:
An absolute must whether you're an aspiring hunter or roving trader. You get two chests - the first one is capable of storing up to 1000 individual weapons, pieces of armor, and charm talismans, while the second is capable of storing up to 1000 stacks of 999 of any given healing item, monster part, ore, or item that isn't a weapon, armor piece, or talisman.

Scrapyard Skills (Swat Kats) 300:
Where others see junk, you see treasure just waiting to be utilized. You can make far more use out of scrap metal and tossed out electronics, repurposing them for many different tasks. That washer machine might have the parts needed to help spin an engine turbine, or that piston tube might be JUST the right size to refashion into a grappling hook launcher... it's all in how you use it and how you repurpose things.

Rockin' Music (Swat Kats) Free:
When you're going around or doing something awesome, you can choose to have a sick electric guitar riff or a few notes of heavy metal goodness playing as you work in all your glory! ...or villainy. Either way it's sure to sound amazing.

Mauler (Command and Conquer: Tiberium Wars) 400:
You have the skills of a junkyard hound, able to make even the most heavily damaged tech work again. Even machines too battle-damaged for recovery 20 years ago can be effective under your wrench. Repurposing tech and equipment is your forte; you can turn a pneumatic screwdriver into a reasonable cannon, and heaven help your enemies if you get anywhere near mining equipment, as a powerarmored mutant is quickly appearing in their future. There was even one time where you made a toaster into a reasonable facsimile of a flamethrower…..

Magitech

Mechanist (Final Fantasy VI) 100: You know how regular technology and magitek function and can repair it if it breaks down. You'll still need the tools and supplies, but at least with this you'll know what you're doing with mechanical technology. This knowledge can be used to build basic examples of it too, but don't expect to be able to copy anything too complex without getting your hands on the blueprints.

Setup Wizard (Harry Potter) 200:
You have a natural knack of melding technology and magic. You can easily jury-rig technology to work at Hogwarts. Your inventions could do considerable good for the magical world if they weren't all such luddites.

Wand (Harry Potter) Free:
A wand. You don't have it yet, mind you, but you'll get one soon enough on a trip to Ollivanders. You can choose the wood type and between one of the wand cores he produces wands with (Unicorn Hair, Dragon Heartstring and Phoenix Feather). You may instead choose a more exotic wand core (excluding Thestral Hair and limited to parts from other canonical magical creatures/beings of this world e.g. Thunderbird Tail Feather, Veela Hair, etc.) although the three previously mentioned are among the most reliable and powerful. Different cores and woods tend to act a little differently but regardless of what you choose the wand will choose you as soon as you are introduced. Different woods may alter your historical personality (for all but Drop-ins) and therefore tendencies very slightly (e.g. Cypress wands tend to choose brave people and you will as such have been a relatively brave child, Blackthorn may result in you being slightly more combative, etc.). If you already had a wand you may import it into this role and while it will keep it's wood and core it will gain a significant loyalty boost.

Technosorcery (Gargoyles) 400:
Combining magic and technology is a no brainer for you. You can handily blend the two to create amazing effects like broadcasting spells over telephone lines or melding creatures together through sorcerous surgery. Very little in the field of technomagic is beyond your reach with this skill.

Alchemy

Alchemist (Secret of Evermore) 200: Considered a lost art, the science of Alchemy has reawakened in Evermore, and you've been trained in its use. By combining ordinary ingredients together using an alchemical formula, you can transform them into effects that can only be described as magic. You know both Light Alchemy, the art of healing or protection, and Dark Alchemy, the art of attacking. While it's theoretically possible to learn Alchemy at a later point in Evermore, this will let you skip the training and get straight to the mixing and casting, and will make you significantly better at it to boot.

Alchemy (Banjo-Kazooie) 100: You are incredibly capable at mixing together mundane ingredients to create effects that can only be described as magical. For a short time these potions can create temporary copies of you, turn you invisible, or give you shielding.

Deranged Alchemist (Van Helsing) 300: You have mastered the medieval forerunner of chemistry, and know the transformation of matter via elaborate rituals and mysticism on top of your scientific approach. The greatest secrets of Alchemy still elude you, such as the fabled Panacea, but that can be found in due time. (Hint: Nobody's found it. At all.) However, you are capable of transmutation of many materials (although it requires that said materials be the same base) and can create Homunculi from following Paracelsus' studies into alchemy.

Innate Talent: Alchemist (Overlord) 200: You are capable of brewing potions with magical effects. You can easily create 'true' healing potions that provide instantaneous healing rather than healing-over-time, and can make potions for any 'buffing' spells you know that are in the ranked magic system such as flight, invisibility, increased magic resistance, physical boosts, and so on. Obviously you must actually know a spell in order to make a potion with that spells effect. Additionally to make use of this talent you must actually have the means to make the potions in the first place such as an alchemist's lab or, for slimes, your own body

Alchemist's Laboratory (Overlord) Free with Alchemist: A fully fitted and supplied alchemist's laboratory ready for your use. It comes with the highest quality supplies and equipment required to make magical potions, allowing you to make potions to emulate the effect of any spell you know that could be reasonably made into a potion via alchemy (assuming you know alchemy, at least). The equipment will automatically upgrade itself relative to your own personal skill level, so the more skilled you are the better it will be to reflect that. Reagents for common potions restock themselves automatically on a regular basis.

Alchemy (Samurai Jack) 200:
The ancient science of mixing specific ingredients and then infusing them with natural energy. You know how to make a wide array of potions with both beneficial and harmful effects.

Simplified Formulae (Fullmetal Alchemist) 100:
You understand the connections between parts. You can make large alchemy circles far more easily and far less complex than others. You can combine this with Advanced Formulae for multipurpose combat alchemy.

Alkahestry (Fullmetal Alchemist) 300:
You can feel The Dragon's Pulse. You understand how to perfom basic Alkahestry, an art from Xing wich can perform transmutation from a distance using linked circles, and can heal wounds of many kinds by following the pulse of the body. With practice or tutoring you can make a real skill from it.

Advanced Formulae (Fullmetal Alchemist) 100:
Alchemy comes to you as breathing does. Your greater understanding allows for the creation of more complex alchemy. You can combine with Simplified Formulae for multipurpose combat alchemy

Alchemy (Castlevania) 300:
Through careful experimentation and research, you've gained understanding of the true nature of God's creation of the world. You may now utilize a lesser form of this art to create items of power, ranging from potions and charms to powerful weapons to drive back the forces of evil. You also understand the basics of a darker form of this art, enabling you to understand and counter evil rituals.


Total Points: 25,900
 
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22 Homeward
22 Homeward

I rode out of the ruined storage facility leaving the former conscripts behind me. At the moment I was feeling a bit less than the triumphant hero. Focusing on getting the bombs out of their heads had let me put off contemplating exactly how badly things had gone this night. To be fair I hadn't come into this expecting to be able to end Bakuda's rampage in one swoop, but I think that was part of the problem.

I had approached things, been approaching things, like a freshly triggered tinker. I don't think that was exactly unreasonable, because what else was I supposed to base things on? The problem, which was clear now, was that I was definitely not a tinker. At least not anything like a traditional one.

I could make stuff, incredibly advanced stuff, but that didn't make you a tinker. I'd been fixated on how other cape powers work, how the PRT evaluates them. Tinker is a classification not just for being able to build stuff, but for all the issues around it. Logistics, time limitations, resources, research, workshop space. A tinker couldn't just start building, they had to build up. That's why tinker was a combat relevant classification rather than just the sub-ratings attached to their gear. They had expanded capacities, but also expanded limitations. I had taken that model as an outline for how to function as a cape, and in doing so had taken on the limitations of the classification as well.

Limitations I didn't really have. There were vestiges of them before, but after tonight most of them were irrelevant. My workshop was advanced, persistent, and fully secure. My Workaholic power let me multiply any resource as long as I could even get the tiniest scrap to start with. I could complete mechanical tasks around forty times faster than normal, and if I was doing maintenance or modification of my own gear that ramped up to four hundred times faster. I was getting entire fields of technology fully developed without needing research or testing. When I did need testing or research it was built on established and shockingly advanced principles that I received in full detail.

I needed to stop thinking about what a tinker would do and start thinking about what I could do. What I could be capable of.

For instance, magic. Magic essentially gave me a shocking array of parahuman abilities on command. Finally breaking out my Dark Alchemy made it clear exactly how strong that could be. I might only have two connections to the Magic constellation but they complemented each other perfectly. Runecraft had been a bit of a novelty when I first got it, but it had been empowered by all of those 'useless' aesthetic powers I'd been accumulating. I didn't even know what the upper limit would be for what I could accomplish with it.

Potions were also something I needed to start properly leveraging. A single duplication potion could have swung the fight in my favor, and invisibility might have let me take out Bakuda without giving her a chance to set off any of her contingencies. That entire alchemy field was even more important now, considering what Natural Alchemy was capable of.

Looking back, I just didn't have enough time. There wasn't time to practice, utilize, or develop my abilities. After that first horrible week following my trigger I had gotten so caught up in the fact that I had gotten any power that I hadn't considered how best to leverage what I'd received. The rate powers arrived at had been accelerating, no question, but my ability to manage them hadn't been improving at a similar rate.

The modifications to my mind from those military memories scared me, but without them I don't think I would have made it through the night. They had helped, but they were memories designed for a very different situation and still clashed pretty hard with my mentality at times. I really needed some time to get a grip on them to know how to best utilize them.

Time. The one thing I didn't have to spare. I had been working every second I could manage since the Undersiders attacked the bank, but it hadn't been enough. Maybe it would have been if I'd known what I was getting into, but who could have seen this insanity coming?

Who indeed.

My passenger was being quieter than usual. The complete gap regarding the ABB's new thinker was more than a little concerning. She had managed to stump Tattletale as well, so it might be an anti-thinker effect. That was scary enough, but I never got the idea that my passenger was limited by parahuman interactions. This seemed like something else, and that was a very concerning thought. He had been my safety net since I triggered, and now that net had an obvious hole in it. That was not a comforting idea.

It also made me wonder if there had been any gaps in the other information I'd received. Information regarding the end of the world and what was necessary to prevent it. Once again, not a comforting idea.

I put those thoughts out of my mind and tried to decide my next move. I pulled up Survey through my omni-tool and tried to get a sense of the city. While I'd been occupied in the north end storage facility things had gone to hell across Brockton Bay. It didn't look like the string of random attacks I'd been afraid of. It wasn't even targeted to maximize casualties. No, this was far more coordinated.

I didn't have a perfect picture since the data was being pieced together from disparate sources. Still, Survey had literally been made for this kind of thing so I was able to get a fairly accurate picture of how the attacks had rolled out, as well as a more concerning analysis of the reasoning behind them.

The first wave of attacks had been designed to shock. They were coordinated with the blackout and were the only ones that actually targeted civilian areas, about a half dozen blasts, enough to put people on alert. At the same time there were reported explosions on the PHQ and signs of heavy combat, though still no public announcement on what had happened. Once a response was seriously being mobilized the second wave came.

This was more numerous and tactical. The attacks targeted key roadways, the Brockton Airport, the PRT headquarters and the sites of previous bombings. The PRT headquarters wasn't badly damaged in the attack, but the strike had hit the garage access with an incendiary bomb that was apparently still burning, though thankfully not spreading. The fire was hot enough that attempts to smother it, even with containment foam, had completely failed. Any PRT response vehicles not already on the road were completely locked down.

The secondary bombings had as severe an impact on response to the disaster as the PRT attack. The first few response units to the explosion sites triggered hidden secondary devices. Following that disaster blast sites needed to be cleared by the bomb squad before anyone could be sent in. It slowed the response to a crawl.

This led to the third wave of attacks. These were more spaced out and even more targeted. The third rounds of attacks weren't designed to secure a tactical advantage, slow responses, or create fear. They were clearly targeted based on financial gain.

The blackout dealt with most electronic security and tinker tech bombs removed more conventional barriers. Thus the ABB had led an exceptionally coordinated string of heists across the city. With the chaos slowing police response to a crawl and the strength of Bakuda's bombs backing them up they were able to essentially walk through the juiciest targets in the city.

It was hard to even guess how much they had managed to secure. The rich side of Brockton Bay skewed extremely rich and had services to match. The two auction houses had probably yielded the greatest take in pure dollar value of goods, but that would be difficult to liquidate. There were also the repeated jewelry robberies, hits on depositories, armored cars blown apart or hijacked, and even a good old fashion bank robbery.

It made sense. The ABB would likely have their traditional income streams gutted following this display. No one was going to be heading to ABB territory to partake in any of their vice industries. Protection money was a meager prospect with a depressed economy, even more so following something like this. Beyond that there wasn't much stable cash flow to be had. It seemed their thinker had sidestepped that by ensuring enough take in a single night to support the gang for an indeterminate amount of time.

Actually, I had no idea what the economics of running a gang were like. Judging by behavior it seemed more territory was considered better and quality of territory was a factor as well, but the nitty gritty would have to be guessed from movies and police procedurals. What I did know is this was probably one of the biggest heist sprees in the city's history, and something that could only be pulled off by fully exploiting the chaos of the attacks.

Oh, and the Forsberg Gallery had been taken down. Not 'taken down' on the level of what happened at the storage lockers, but it was definitely in a 'rebuild' rather than a 'repair' category. There was probably a joke in there about not being able to tell when ultra-modern architecture collapses on itself. A few of the supports must have gone, as well as that weird lopsided part that hangs out, but the bottom floors were probably alright.

The damage was a bit excessive if all they wanted to do was cover an art theft. Also I wouldn't really have pegged it as a high value target. Possibly there had been something else going on there, but Survey didn't have any data ready for me.

The A.I. was stressed enough as it dug through social media posts, image board rumors, and news sites from outside the slowly shrinking blackout area. This was not something that would have been possible at the start of the night, but hours of drone coordination and scanner analysis had resulted in a significant boost in the A.I.'s complexity and capacity. Through those efforts I was presented with the worst news of the night.

Lung had gotten away. It wasn't being shouted from the rooftops, and from the looks of things it might have been a close thing, but he was definitely free. There was grainy cell phone footage taken from the boardwalk of some fight on the rig. Not good quality footage. The person was using digital zoom to try to get a close up and turned it into a blurry shaky mess.

It showed a blue blur in what was probably a fight with a big burning blur. The situation wasn't helped by multiple explosions around the two blurs and copious amounts of smoke. It ended with a scuffle between the blue and burning blurs. Then something knocked the blue blur away from the burning blur, the burning blur burned more, and there were lots of explosions. Afterwards the burning blur was gone, the blue blur wasn't moving, and it looked like something had fallen into the bay. Then there were a bunch more explosions, the Rig caught fire, and the force field cut out, taking both the dome and road access with it.

Later on there was a sighting of Dauntless arriving on the scene, then flying back towards the PRT building. Various other sightings of him, Miss Militia, and Triumph were reported across the city, with Battery showing up later in the evening.

It wasn't clear what had happened on the Rig, but a single cell phone photo from an apartment window was posted on Twitter showing a partially transformed Lung entering the city. There were no signs of him going on a rampage or participating in the other ABB activities, but it was clear he was out of Protectorate custody.

Maybe if I'd gone there first I could have tipped the scales. Of course, that would have meant trading the Undersiders' lives, the lives of all of the conscripts, and letting Bakuda run free will all that ordinance. It could also mean a few more Protectorate heroes would be on the streets instead of their missing/status unknown situation, but I wasn't sure how good a trade that would have been.

I could keep thinking in circles forever. The point wasn't if I made the right decision. It was if there was anything else I could do now.

On that note there was something going on pretty much everywhere in the city. The Empire and Merchants were out in force, but unlike the ABB seemed to be having trouble figuring out how to take advantage of the chaos. And it was chaos. This was a blackout with the police heavily tied up and the fire and medical services stressed to their limit. Fortunately there didn't seem to be an excess of firebombs deployed, but any number was a nightmare considering the technology involved. There were scattered fires across the city, likely unrelated to the bombings but still pushing the limits of firefighter's ability to contain them.

Reports from the hospitals were not as horrible as they could have been. A slight shift to the bombing pattern could have clogged the emergency rooms and morgues of the city well past their capacity. Instead they had focused on disruption of response and financial gain, a small and dubious mercy. Still, that took the medical response from an insurmountable problem to a merely taxing one. They wouldn't be doing post-Endbringer style tent hospitals and field amputations, but every medical professional would be on double shifts and earning their pay for the foreseeable future.

I missed a connection to the knowledge constellation as I considered what I should do. What could I do? Panacea was still in containment thanks to the reaction to our conversation. Could they release her for something like this? Somehow I doubted it. It seemed unlikely that containment protocols would have an exemption letting potentially mastered capes free just because their powers would be useful. That sounded like it would be the most exploitable loophole ever.

Thanks to my own status and my effective declaration as a villainous mercenary I couldn't exactly step into her place. I was a suspected master using untested and unverified healing tech that I was not willing to submit to an examination. Medical nanites were wonderful, but in order to develop them a normal person would need to go through iterative designs that could cause all kinds of disasters, and that's not even getting into the Protectorate's stance on nanite technology in general. My alchemy might be a little better, but would raise even more questions. I couldn't see a way to offer help without ending up in PRT custody by the end of the night.

So what else could I do? Somehow just rescuing the Undersiders in the face of all of this didn't feel like enough. Okay, I had saved a bunch of civilians as well, stopped whatever Bakuda was planning to do with that insane amount of ordinance, and while she got away it hadn't been in one piece. The blade hadn't exactly taken her legs, more of a low cut through the shins. The left foot was gone along with most of her calf, but the right wasn't cut all the way through. That said, the right cut was closer to the knee, so that brought its own set of problems.

She obviously didn't bleed out, so credit to either Uber's perfect medical skills or Leet's bullshit technology. This would seem like a victory, but really it just served to hand the ABB a crippled tinker. That's pretty much the nightmare scenario for any tinker to find themselves in and the best present a gang could receive. It also would keep her out of the field, so while that would probably reduce random executions substantially it transfers command to more level headed capes. I'm not sure a less violent but more effective ABB was that much of a step up.

So what did I do now? In a way it was easier back at the facility. The goals were clear and even if the best decisions weren't being made just doing something was generally an improvement. I could deal with a problem that was right in front of me, but a wide reaching, city scale disaster? No.

From what I could discern the wave of violence and looting that had sprung up around the blackout was dying down. Not due to the Protectorate, but surprisingly the activities of minor capes, independent heroes, and even Faultline's crew. Though in their case the smart money was they were defending their stomping grounds rather than taking any stand for law and order. There was no evidence of a coordinated effort from New Wave, but individual members had been spotted on and off through the night. Even the gangs weren't putting up with rioting or looting in their own territory, which clamped down on some of the worst hotspots. I couldn't see any way to help with the general violence that wouldn't throw me unprepared against one of those groups.

I couldn't think of anything I could do that would make a positive impact without also causing excessive entanglement with the Protectorate or another group in the city. I didn't want anything like that until I had time to leverage some of my new abilities. I had rushed into one situation under-geared and half prepared. I wasn't doing it again.

If there was one key takeaway from the night it was that there was a big difference between having power and knowing how to apply it properly. If I didn't want to repeat my earlier mistakes I would have to get my shit together before anything like this happened again.

That led to me hunting for a darkened alley to access my workshop. That wasn't something in short supply in this part of the docks and I found an acceptably isolated door fairly quickly. Despite the expansions to my workshop the entryway looked the same as ever. The scattered equipment and cast off civilian clothing from my rushed deployment were scattered across the floor. I secured the door, stowed my hoard of tinker tech, and started to get changed.

My costume was in a far worse state than when I left. Virtually all of that damage was due to Uber and Leet's Street Fighter attack. I had defenses against a lot of things, but spatial distortions were not currently on the list. That had to change. I knew that broadcast had gone out, even if I hadn't had time to review it yet. I had little doubt that I would be facing similar weapons in the future.

I didn't have the advantage of anonymity anymore. Villains didn't last in the cape scene if they were idiots. I couldn't hope that they would come at me with attacks that had been demonstrated to be ineffective. Spatial warping drew blood, so any cape or tinker who could produce anything similar would be in extremely high demand.

I could build something to defend against that kind of thing, but that would involve digging heavily into the principles provided by my Skills: Physics power. There were fascinating concepts there, but unfortunately none of the engineering needed to bring them to life. I would have to develop my technology the old fashion way, and that meant research and experimentation.

As a positive, it did provide the basis for defending against time stop bombs and the construction of a personal force field. I had a few different personal force fields I could build at this point and should probably start prioritizing that particular project. There are effects from those bombs where the only safe measure is to avoid contact entirely. With some of that stuff there's no level of durability that can reliably save you.

Despite the exertion and messy nature of combat the costume was still fairly fresh. I had The Flock's Fleece when I made this with Garment, so in addition to always fitting perfectly it created an ideal thermal equilibrium. Never too hot or too cold, and even when sprinting in full costume with a face mask you were perfectly comfortable. It was a minor thing, but I appreciated not ending the night swimming in panic sweat.

The state of my pistol made my costume look pristine. That mega slash thing may have been dramatic, but it was beyond anything that sword had been designed for. The HF capacitor has completely shorted out and I wouldn't want to even try activating the omni-blade mount until I had a chance to see what was happening inside. Really I should have stripped it down right after the attack, but there wasn't time for even my accelerated maintenance. Given my new powers it was probably due for a complete rebuild anyway.

While I got changed I updated the copies of Survey and Fleet running in the computational core with the data from the night. Given how much they had been able to derive from a simple ride around the city this would likely be a feast of information for them. I would have to expand their parameters soon. If they hadn't hit them already they would soon. Since I was basing their upgrades on the powers I received they were well overdue for an expansion.

After I finished getting changed I stowed my gear and made sure my reserve armor plate was in place on my shin. There was a chance that kind of durability could expose me but it was still dangerous out there. I would much rather have someone wondering how I survived a bullet than end up a corpse. In fact I should probably upgrade that as soon as I get the chance. I had an entire database of armor technology in my head, and that wasn't even touching on what I could do with high gravity assembly now that element zero based technologies were an option.

Ultra-compressed high grade refined ceramite plates could come later. Right now I just wanted to get back to the relative safety of my apartment. This night had been draining even before I charges into Bakuda's murder arena. Since then I had been running on desperation and conditioning, thank you military training. The moment the costume came off it was like a switch was thrown. All I wanted to do was sleep for a week.

That sounded like a great idea, but this wasn't the place for it. I signaled Fleet and the motorcycle shifted back into civilian mode, changing from its aggressive shape and black and silver coloring to a still sleek but much less aggressive silhouette in blue and white. Still not exactly inconspicuous, but better than riding around in costume.

I wheeled my transformed bike out into the alley, sealed my workshop, and took off towards my apartment. Signs of violence became gradually more common as I moved into the more populated areas of the docks. Even as the damage reached its peak it wasn't as bad as I had feared. Going into this I had expected the entire city to be a rubble strewn fireball. Frankly I saw more damage due to the actions of normal people in the form of smashed storefronts and broken windows than I did from explosives.

The Docks isn't exactly what you'd call prime looting grounds, but I guess people take what they can get. It was probably telling about the city's drug problem that I didn't see a single pharmacy that hadn't been broken into. Anyone who needed prescription refills in the north side of the city was going to have a hard time of it for a while. Somehow I doubted things were this bad Downtown. There was more spacing between the commercial and residential areas, the Boardwalk had its own security, and office buildings didn't exactly have an abundance of light weight, easily liquidated items to grab.

That said, most of the ABB heists were centered Downtown or towards the Beaches, so I guess that evened things up. It would be interesting to see how the fallout from this night shapes itself. Given the number of cities affected this is probably going to end up with one of those cape specific monikers like the Boston Games.

As I rode the Celestial Forge made a connection to a small mote from the Time constellation. This one was called Don't Need a Team. It made it so that I didn't need a team.

Okay, there was more complexity to it than that. The power let me do the work of an entire team by myself. I wasn't duplicating or using telekinesis or anything like that, it just worked as a combination of expanded knowledge and faster speed that allowed me to handle the tasks of an entire service crew by myself.

It was primarily aligned towards fighter jet maintenance, but could be applied to other fields easily enough, especially with my level of skill. It wouldn't be any use on small projects where a second set of hands would get in the way, but for larger projects I could handle the work of up to ten people with no issue. It was actually just what I needed for expanding my workload and trying to leverage new technology.

I put that power aside and focused on the road. The city was still shockingly dark. You got so used to there always being some level of lighting that this kind of thing, the choking, inky darkness, became severely unnerving. Some buildings still had emergency lighting on, and flashlights and candles showed through the windows of some houses, but generally the land outside the reach of my headlights was a complete void.

I turned a corner and was greeted by an unexpected island of light on an otherwise pitch black street. My gym was bright and fully lit. Light streamed out of its windows and open doors across the people milling around outside. I slowed as I approached the old building. From the looks of what I could see inside the place was packed to capacity, probably with half the neighborhood present.

The attitude of the crowd was complicated. I would probably have described it as a high tension potluck. Some of the larger guys from the gym were out on the street, forming a kind of informal perimeter at the edge of the light. Assorted non-members were behind them. A few were smoking, some had paper coffee cups, and some were just pacing in clear agitation. What was clear was that a sense of 'inside' and 'outside' had evolved around the gym and people were keeping aware of the boundary.

I pulled my bike into the crowded parking area and pulled off my helmet. At the sound of my approach an unspoken exchange was conducted between the gym regulars and two of them moved to intercept me, with the others shuffling around to even out the spacing. It wasn't exactly a military perimeter, but it was probably the closest thing that could evolve naturally in a situation like this.

The two figures approached in a decidedly aggressive manner, but the lead figure's mannerism's changes as soon as he got close enough to see my face. The second figure picked up on it and mirrored his behavior.

"Joe?"

I recognized Vince's voice and shifted slightly so I could see his face without the light completely at his back.

"Hey Vince." I tried to keep the mental exhaustion out of my voice as I spoke, but I think he picked up on it. I glanced over the gym patrons and members of the public standing around. This close and without the engine noise I could hear the mummer of dozens of voices coming from inside the gym. "What's going on here?"

He grinned. "A bunch of us were here when the power went out. Doug kind of took command of things, kept anyone from panicking."

I returned his smile. "I can see that."

He nodded. "Yeah. Anyway, heard streets were getting dangerous so we were set to wait things out. That's when people started showing up. Like, more than just members."

"Seriously?" The gym was a nice place to work out, but I wouldn't exactly call it a community hub. Maybe a known factor on account of its Neolithic architecture, but not a place where people would gravitate.

"Seriously. Get this, there was this cape going around breaking up assaults," Vince put a particular inflection on that word and something told me it was probably more serious that just muggings. "and sending people here."

I blinked. "Why here?"

He just shrugged. "Maybe they knew the place would be open and we'd have a bunch of guys here in case anyone tried to start something? Anyway, Doug started organizing things to account for that. You've seen what it's like out there?"

I nodded grimly.

"Right, the cops weren't showing up for anything less than a murder in progress, so Doug set to get us dug in until things calmed down. He called in some favors, including someone who had an old generator." He gestured behind him. "Once we got the lights on more people started showing up. Doug called in more people to keep things from getting out of hand, and well..."

Well indeed. I had no idea what cape would be sending people to our gym, but the situation had worked out better than anyone could have hoped given the circumstances.

"Oh, Joe this is Casey." He gestured at the thirty-something tattooed boxer next to him. The man gave me a crooked grin and extended a hand like a ham hock.

"Nice to meet you." He was clearly one of those people who turned every handshake into a cursing grip contest. I squeezed back as hard as I could manage and hoped my durability boost wouldn't betray me.

"Likewise." He turned to Vince while still shaking my hand. "So, this the rookie you couldn't put down the other night? Mr. Laborn must have been mortified."

I kept a straight face while Vince laughed it off. When Casey broke the grip I made a show of unnecessarily rubbing feeling back into my hand. That earned a scoff, but his own hand was trembling slightly.

"You should check inside, at least let Doug know you're safe. He's been on the phone all night, but we haven't been able to confirm everyone's okay." Yeah, I guess that's what happens when you leave your civilian phone isolated in another dimension. 'We are sorry. The number you have dialed no longer exists in this reality.'

Still, it was an odd sense of community I hadn't really expected from this place. I couldn't decide if it was endearing or intrusive. That said, I at least wanted to find out about this cape.

"You guys go ahead." Said Casey. He looked over the street. "Things seem to be calming down anyway. I'll keep an eye on things." He glanced at my bike, then shared a look with Vince. There seemed to be something going on there, but I just gave him a nod and followed Vince inside.

Past the door things reminded me more of a church social than a disaster shelter. Someone had set up a bunch of folding tables with some of those giant coffee makers that produce truly terrible coffee on them. It was complimented by assorted foodstuffs that I suspected were mostly chosen based on what would go bad without constant refrigeration. What parts of the workout gear that could be cleared away was pushed to the side to make room for what looked like at least half the neighborhood. People were circulating, chatting, or collapsing into folding chairs, but generally seemed happy to be here. A little island of stability in the middle of a night of insanity.

Vince led me through the throng of people, around the ring, and eventually to the back of the gym near the office. I heard Doug's booming voice well before I spotted the big man. He might be a terror to his students, but give him a disaster to coordinate and he was suddenly everyone's best friend. Or at least the person you wanted on your side.

Honestly, I think it might be a bit similar to what I was dealing with at the storage facility. When things are going to hell it's easier to focus on the job in front of you than try to take everything in. Doug didn't seem the most contemplative person at the best of times and probably favored action over careful consideration. It was easy to see how he ended up pulling this together.

Also he got to yell at people. That always put him in a good mood.

Doug was talking with some of the other coaches and older members of the gym. Vince waved to get his attention and his face lit up when he saw me. The man may not have an ounce of tact in his body but he was probably the most earnest person I'd ever met.

"Joe!" He waved off the crowd and made his way over to me and Vince. "Glad so see you're safe. I swear, this fucking night." He shook his head. "Couldn't reach you, and with your new job..."

He left that hanging and there were some knowing looks from the men around him. Not judgmental, just knowing. In retrospect by talking about a job with 'good pay' and 'terrible hours' I should have realized it would come across as a euphemism for some kind of illegal activity. The entire gym seemed to be onboard with the idea that I had found some kind of legally gray side job.

I mean I had, but not nearly in the way they were thinking.

Wait, that's probably what the thing was between Casey and Vince about my bike. Well, looks like they assumed I was riding around on the proceeds from a criminal venture. I'd be offended if they weren't exactly correct.

"No, I got a call from some... friends. They were in a bad spot because of this and needed some help."

Doug nodded. "Things work out?"

"Yeah." I fell back on my 'nearly lying' tactic of staying as close to the truth as possible. "They had some close calls and are probably pretty shaken up, but they'll be fine."

"Lucky they had someone to rely on." I didn't answer, but joined the chorus of nods around the group.

"Vince mentioned something about a new cape?" The gym's champ grinned at Doug but let him launch into the explanation.

"Oh yeah, it's the damnedest thing. City hadn't been dark for half an hour when this girl shows up, skittish as hell. Said a new cape showed up when she was in trouble, then pointed her our way." He shook his head. "Had no idea what to make of it at first, then the next one shows up. Cindy over there." He pointed at a college age girl with auburn hair sitting by the wall. She was wearing a beautiful jacket over a torn t-shirt and had a split lip that had seen some hasty medical treatment.

Looking around I could see more cases like her. Injuries and damaged clothing, and mostly women. Some were clearly still badly shaken and curled in on themselves in quiet or isolated areas. Others were working to support each other, or even mingling with some of the gym members and people from the neighborhood. I could spot what must have been a dozen, and there were probably more.

"And it was a new cape? No one had seen them before."

Doug grinned. "See, that's what I thought. Then someone found said they'd heard of her. Even had a video." He grabbed a smart phone from a nearby folding table, unlocked it after two tries, tried to navigate a website, accidentally went to the home screen, entered the list of apps, and then inadvertently hit the image gallery icon next to the internet browser.

Huh, apparently Doug liked to go kayaking.

"I've got it." The Celestial Forge missed a connection to the Alchemy constellation as Vince stepped in. He pulled it up with his own phone before Doug decided to start swearing at his or smash it against the wall.

I was expecting some kind of guerrilla style street video of the cape in action. Probably with a homemade costume and the takedown of a couple of muggers or something similar. I wasn't expecting the very familiar sight of a set of curtains framing a red dress with a floating set of opera length white gloves.

I worked very hard to keep my face straight as the video played out, complete with assembly of jacket and finishing with the all too familiar incredibly slow typing. Doug and Vince shared a grin at my expense, so I'm guessing they took my carefully controlled reaction for shock.

"Her name's Garment. Has powers like that fashion girl from down by the college, only people think she's one of those Case whatever folks."

"Case 53s." Vince corrected. "She's not actually invisible, it's just the clothing. There's nothing there to hurt."

The prospect of how someone would figure that out made my stomach lurch, but I nodded along. I hadn't told Garment to stay in the apartment. I'd told her to stay safe. She wasn't obligated to listen to me, but even if she had been this was within the bounds of what I'd said.

But I didn't understand why she'd left the apartment. She'd never shown interest in hero work before, and while there was certainly a need for it this night I didn't know why she decided to start.

I took a moment to think about how Garment saw the world. I didn't have a perfect picture, but from the couple of times I'd worn the gloves I'd been able to get inklings of her senses, the information she received and how she processed it. The way she interacted with the environment around her and the sensation that created. Then I looked over the people she'd been rescuing and sending here. Suddenly something fell into place.

Torn clothing.

There were a variety of levels of injury present, but every one of them had some damage to what they were wearing. I tried to remember what I'd experienced about how Garment perceived things around her, the almost tactile relationship she had with fashion and items of clothing. Then I imagined what would happen during one of these 'assaults', how they would come across to Garment senses.

With that thought I could understand why she left the apartment. I was just grateful she was only dealing with normal humans. I didn't know how well Garment could handle herself in a fight, but apparently it was well enough to break up a street level conflict. Against cape opponents I wouldn't be as confident, so I was glad that things seemed to have been limited on the front.

I made a show of contemplating the video as Vince and Doug watched my reaction. "That's really impressive and all, but how was she fighting with that kind of power?"

Vince beamed as he scrambled to pull something up on his phone. "Oh, this is great." Doug was grinning as he leaned over to look at the screen. Finally he found what he was looking for and turned the phone around.

The screen showed a twitter post of a photo of a skinhead. The lack of tattoos meant it was probably not Empire, just someone who shared the style of that movement. He had what looked like paper cuts across his face, but that wasn't what drew the eye. No, the clear focus of the image was the inch wide pink silk ribbon that had been used to truss him up.

With my knowledge of fabrics and clothing I could easily tell the ribbon has been sewn into his clothing as well as wrapped in a way that effectively immobilized him. With the tensile strength of silk, especially silk of that thickness, there was no way he was getting free unless someone cut him out, and he'd still have the material sewn into his jacket and jeans. The man was clearly furious and red-faced, which clashed horribly with the pink of the ribbon.

Weirdly, except for the shade of his face the entire arrangement looked pretty striking. The pink contrasted nicely with the black jeans and dark grey jacket. It was wrapped in a way that created a kind of banding pattern across his body. I mean, it was clearly intended for restraint, but I could see something in that style ending up on the runway of a fashion show at some point.

Though likely with a more attractive and cooperative model.

"She's been leaving goons trussed up like that all over the area. Sent a few guys out to check on them. They aren't going anywhere until the cops can collect them." Doug looked over at the group of people Garment had sent him. "Had a couple Protectorate capes drop by to follow up on things. Shadow Stalker and that new girl. Said the police will be by to take statements once they can move through the city without getting blown to hell."

"But she can't talk, right? How did she send people here?"

Vince broke in. "She had a laptop with her. Typed stuff out." He saw my expression. "With auto-complete. Still pretty limited, but she got the point across."

"Most of the time." Doug said with a smile.

"What do you mean?"

He turned to carefully lift something off the table behind him. "Apparently had some trouble getting the point across a few times. When she couldn't get through with the laptop she made this."

He lifted a small banner of fabric and held it up. I did not know what to make of it. I knew Garment could work quickly, but I did not expect this.

"She sent it down with the last person to arrive. It was petering out for a while, so theory is she's done for the night." Vince grinned. "We're thinking of hanging it over the ring."

I could see where Vince was coming from, but it was still a shock to see. The item in question was a five foot banner of embroidered cloth, about two feet thick. It looked like wool embroidered onto linen. Actually, it was definitely wool embroidered onto linen because that was what the original was made of. It's just the original Bayeux Tapestry didn't depict any men in boxing shorts.

Garment had decided to get around her communication issues by making a twelfth century tapestry depiction of an empty red dress and gloves intervening to save a maiden from bandits, then directing the maiden along a path to where a group of boxers were standing surrounding a very nice depiction of the gym. After that it showed the boxers defending the maiden from figures in the surrounding darkness. All of this was lovingly sewn in the exact style of the finest medieval tapestry work.

I could only stare at it while Vince and Doug enjoyed my reaction. I shook my head and took in the size of the crowd. The shift in the mood inside the gym compared to the feeling pervading the rest of the city was stark. "This is incredible. I can't believe you pulled all this together on such short notice."

Doug just shrugged. "Some cape thinks we're a good enough place to look after people who were... assaulted. If they have that kind of faith in us I'm not going to let them down. I just took some steps to make sure they'd be alright. Things kind of snowballed from there."

Doug glanced across the room at a tiny elderly woman who looked thin enough for a stiff breeze to knock her flat. She was surrounded by a group composed of gym patrons and members of the public and was commanding the group with the grace of a career general. There seemed to be glimmers of actual fear even in the older heavyweight boxers as they scurried around moving chairs and bringing out food and blankets. She looked over at Doug and the big man immediately averted his eyes.

"Uh, I'll just go see if Mrs. Gartenberg needs help with anything." Vince gave us a quick nod before darting off.

"Mrs. Gartenberg?"

Doug took a breath. "She's... active in the community. A good chunk of this is on her." I suddenly noticed that there was something of a division across the gym, kind of a tone shift separating the realm of Doug's authority from that of the old woman. I considered what it would take to get Doug to secede part of his domain and decided that I definitely did not want to get on that woman's bad side.

At that thought the lights cut off for a second. They came back almost immediately, but there was a concerning flicker to them. Mrs. Gartenberg shot Doug a glare and the big man swore under his breath.

"Hey Joe, you know engineering and that kind of stuff, right?"

I did my very best to keep a straight face as I nodded in reply.

"You know Grant Phillips?" He continued before I could reply. "Used to coach here. Had a generator from when he worked up at the market. The thing's ancient, but we were able to get it working, sort of. Been flickering all night. If it gives out and I don't know how this will go."

It made sense. With the city in darkness this tiny dot of light made things seem normal and in control. Even if you were able to switch to lanterns it would still have a very different and less friendly tone.

Which is how I ended up in the back room of the gym looking at a chugging diesel generator that was a good deal older than I was. Doug had picked up on my nervousness and was taking a soft touch as I examined the machine.

I was nervous, but probably not for the reasons Doug assumed. I could fix the thing. Of course I could fix the thing. There was no question about that. The question, and what I was really concerned about, was could I fix this without announcing my cape status to the world?

I knew I could get everything running perfectly in seconds. That wasn't the problem. What I was worried about was the effects of all my secondary powers. As such I was dragging out my examination while trying to figure out how not to accidentally turn this thing into something that was simultaneously a leap forward in power generation and a work of art worthy of the reverence of generations. I mean, this was compression ignition internal combustion, some of the most primitive of human technology. The challenge was keeping things on that level.

Damn it, that's another quarter for the jar.

Doug picked up on my reaction. "Think you can give us a hand?" Doug was probably the only man in the world who can use his normal speaking voice next to an active generator and still come across perfectly clearly.

I nodded, apprehension clear in all my movements. At the moment I was examining every component to try to make sure I kept things at a comparable technical level.

"So," I said, trying to distract myself. Unlike Doug I needed to put in some effort to drown out the roar of the diesel engine. "Did everyone make it in safe tonight?" I checked the fuel lines and tank. Plenty in stock, and I should be able to do this without increasing the efficiency too much. You know this would be so much easier to just build a diesel powered fuel cell and bypass the mechanical side of… NO! Need to work with the terrible caveman tech.

Doug shook his head. "Few guys I couldn't check in on. Plenty more that stayed home rather than make the trip." He looked grim. "And got some bad news about Laborn."

I looked up sharply. "What happened?"

"Was out at dinner when the bombings started. Avoided that, but he got caught in some mess on the way home."

I winced. "He was alone?"

"Yeah. His son was supposed to go instead, but had to cancel."

Huh. I had no idea why a father and son would switch out going to a restaurant alone. Must be one of those weird things you only get in single-child families.

"He alright?"

Doug nodded. "Someone got him to the hospital. He's a bit beat up, but he'll pull through. The man's a tough old bird." Doug seemed to be considering something. "You really made an impression on him last week."

"Seriously?"

"When Laborn breaks out a session like that it's about seeing when some'll tap out. No one expected you to tough your way through it." He looked distant for a moment. "Laborn, well he's not the best with people, with knowing their limits. Some of the training he did with his boy..." He dropped off, then shook away whatever he was considering. "Point is he has high expectations and is used to people disappointing him. You didn't, and that means a lot."

I nodded politely, but wasn't sure what to make of it. That overly aggressive training had come out of nowhere and I still didn't have a clue what triggered it. It had left me nervous about coming back to the gym all week, but I guess it was good to know something good had come from it.

"Any idea when he'll be out?"

"Monitoring for a concussion, but they'll have him released in no time. The man will see to that." Doug spoke with a slight grin. "So, can you help with this clunker?"

I nodded slowly. "Just give me a few minutes. I think I see the problem."

Doug retreated back to the gym as I dug into the modest tool box they had on hand for maintenance issues. I think I could handle this. Most of my involuntary powers triggered on construction, not repair. There was no risk of ending up with four more generators or involuntary over designing the aesthetics of them. But that didn't mean there were no issues at all.

I was pretty much able to instantly fix the generator with no problems or disruption to operation. Even without the support powers my mechanical skill was insanely good. As it stood the only issue I couldn't contain was the effect of Stylish Mechanic. That power made anything I fixed clean and pleasant to look at. The generator wasn't in complete showroom condition, but probably looked better than it had in years.

I smeared some grease and threw some dust onto the casing, but it was a token effort. I really hoped nothing came of this, but just to be sure I decided to wait out the clock in the back room, serenaded by now much more rhythmic but still extremely loud engine. Can't let people think I worked too fast.

And there went the Vehicles constellation with no connection.

I leaned against the wall and collected my thoughts. Even with the shocking news about Garment this had been nice. It was normal people dealing with a horrible situation the best they could and coming out better for it. I kind of hoped similar things were happening across the city, but it didn't seem likely. Brockton was very much a 'cape town'. People followed the lead of parahumans, and without someone like Garment coordinating things they just wouldn't happen.

Garment. That was still a crazy thought. This is probably on me for not checking in after that first call. She had apparently kept her laptop with her, and the copy of Survey. I could have reached them, but the mess with the Undersiders and Bakuda had been so consuming I hadn't had time to think about anything else.

I hoped she was alright. I mean, physically there wasn't much that could happen to her. She was an animating spirit. The number of parahumans who could even interact with something like that was minuscule. Attacks would just damage her clothes and while she might lament them like a passed loved one that wouldn't actually hurt her.

I was worried about what she mentally dealt with tonight. I'd seen some ugly things at the murder arena, but there was a base level of cruelty that happened on the streets that had a horror all its own. I was undoubtedly proud of her for stepping in, but that didn't change the fact of what she'd been dealing with.

Vince said it looked like she'd called it for the night. I needed to get home and check the apartment. If she wasn't there I could scan for the laptop or start a search pattern. Even if it meant churning out stealth drones and infiltrating surveillance networks I would be able to track her down.

Also, I probably needed to address what Survey considered priority information. Social media posts mentioning a new fabric controlling cape should not have been folded into the summary 'minor capes and heroes'. It was a petty gripe considering the comparatively short time the A.I. had been optimizing, but something I needed to address nonetheless.

Despite my decision to leave as soon as possible that proved to be something of an ordeal. Once it got out that I was the one responsible for the lights no longer flickering there was a focus of attention that I could not break away from, particularly given who was directing it. It seemed that all the skills I'd developed fighting tinkers, countering capes, bypassing murder arenas, and taking on a veritable army of conscripts were completely useless in the face of an elderly Jewish woman.

In her own stern but well-meaning manner Mrs. Gartenberg retrieved me from Doug, thanked me personally in front of her crowd of acolytes and proceeded to march me through the various food and refreshment stations she had coordinated. The crowd regarded the tiny woman with a level of fear and respect Bakuda could only dream of attaining.

It was probably a mistake to mention I hadn't eaten anything since lunch. That comment saw me loaded down with three sandwiches, a cup of soup, a cup full of terrible coffee, and one of those tiny packets of cream cookies. It also saw me seated in one of the few free chairs while I ate. It struck me that my life had reached a level of insanity where I could start the night riding a motorcycle through an explosion to confront a super villain and finish it with soup and sandwiches at an impromptu community potluck.

Also, while I didn't want to pry too much, I was seated close enough to some of the people Garment had rescued to learn some interesting details from basic eavesdropping.

"...right on the spot. Not even a word about it. Well, you know, but..."

"Yes, yes. It's beautiful work. She made it right in front of you?"

The girl nodded and slipped off the jacket, which on second viewing was much better quality than the rest of her clothing, and showed it to the older woman sitting across from her.

"She had the materials in her laptop bag. After she dealt with, you know, they just floated up and she made it on the spot. Barely looked at it, she did it while she was typing stuff out."

"The seams are beautiful. Haven't seen hand sewing like this in years. It's practically a lost art." The woman shook her head. "Most people are lucky to get an autograph when they meet a cape. This is something else."

I looked around. Not all, but most of the people who had been saved by Garment had some item of clothing that stood out from the rest of their outfit. Sometimes just a scarf, sometimes a whole jacket. I was glad she had kept her material summoning under wraps, and found a smart way of doing it. Knowing Garment she probably would have given whoever she came across entire new wardrobes if she could get away with it, so it was probably good she was restraining herself.

She had also given the people here something to focus on that wasn't their city falling apart around them. I didn't know how much of this had made it online, but her PHO thread was probably blowing up over it. I was proud enough to nearly override my concern as I powered through the last of my food.

"Sure you can't stick around?" Vince asked as he walked me out.

I shook my head. "Need to get back and check on things." I looked back from the parking area at the island of light and the muffled din of voices. "This is great, but I think you have things covered."

"We're managing. Thanks for your help with the generator. That's probably dropped Doug's blood pressure by a good chunk."

I smiled. "I'm sure Mrs. Gartenberg will find a way to bring it back up."

"Well, they say you don't reach old age in this city without being tough enough to handle it."

"You think the city can handle Mrs. Gartenberg?"

He chuckled in response. "Wouldn't go that far. Look after yourself out there."

"Thanks, you too."

I took off from the gym into the darkened streets. The rest of the neighborhood seemed eerily quiet after the hectic environment of the gym. At least in the pitch darkness I didn't have any trouble finding a concealed location to access my workshop and store my bike.

I sealed it and moved through the murky blackness of the power outage to the exterior steps leading to my apartment. It was the first place I needed to check. If Garment wasn't here I could start fanning out. A broad enough search and analysis profile would find her, assuming I couldn't just track her by Survey's laptop.

I unlocked the front door and entered the tiny, lopsided apartment. "Garmen..."

Before I could finish speaking a shadowy shape shot through the apartment and engulfed me. It took a second to figure out what was happening and collect myself.

"Yes, it's good to see you too." I returned the hug, then moved to close and lock the door. "I'm glad you're safe."

It was hard to make out Garment's reactions in the dark, but I got the distinct impression she felt that statement was both ignorant and inconsiderate.

"Oh, I'm fine."

Once again, it was hard to make out her response, but she seemed to have some doubts about the integrity of that statement. I couldn't keep this conversation going without actually being able to see what was happening. I moved deeper into the apartment, past the open laptop sitting on the desk. At my approach it blinked to life and printed a message on the screen.

'Greetings. Welcome back.'

It was a basic chat-bot level communication, but still a big step forward. Acting as an assistant for Garment had really helped this branch of Survey develop language skills.

"Uh, hello Survey." The screen flickered in response. Speech recognition, or whatever was being processed there, was even more impressive. I really needed to get into my neural interface and check on the development of both A.I.s.

While I moved to use the closet door to access my workshop Garment began frantically entering commands to the laptop. By which I mean mouse commands, not keyboard, since they were coming at a rapid fire pace rather than at five to ten second intervals.

The closet door opened to reveal my entry hall. The normally dimly lit room illuminated my apartment like the noonday sun. Suddenly I could make out every detail that had been lost in the blackout, but that was secondary to the picture on the laptop Garment was shoving in my face.

"Ah." Garment made an expression that suggested more explanation was due. The screen showed confirmation that Uber and Leet had indeed been streaming the events of the storage facility. The specific frame on the screen showed the immediate aftermath of Uber's spatial Street Fighter attack. Specifically, me on the ground covered in bloody injuries. Just looking at it brought back unpleasant memories.

I really needed to track down that stream and find out how much had been shared and what the reaction was to it. God damn but I had a lot of projects piling up. I thought I was down to the wire preparing for this attack, but that was nothing compared to the work that came afterwards.

"Look, it wasn't that bad." I had to duck as my costume floated out of the workshop entryway like a specter. With the light behind it every rip and tear was highlighted. Garment held it suspended next to me and crossed her arms.

To be honest she seemed about equally upset about my injuries and the damage to the clothing. I had already committed to improving my defenses. I just didn't expect to be called to task for not addressing that ahead of time. As I struggled for a way to defend myself I felt the Celestial Forge make a significant connection to the Time constellation.

The power was called Most Holy Order of the Socket Wrench. It was basically the last word in mechanics, at least as far as vehicles are concerned. With it I could improve any vehicle to an insane degree. Full on beyond the impossible level improvements, some of which made no sense but would work anyway. Beyond just improving my skills it opened up new options that shouldn't work, but in my hands suddenly would.

There was also a time component. Much like with my last power this let me do the work of many people. The phrase 'one-man chop shop' came to mind. Unlike my previous ability this wasn't limited to the speed boost from extra hands, it also accelerated any mechanical task to a blazing degree. It was simultaneously the ability to do impossible work, and the ability to complete it in an impossible timeframe.

Actually, this power stacked with Don't Need A Team. With both of them I could function as a one-man chop shop... where each person in it could do the work of an entire team unto themselves. The sheer scale of the projects I could build with this...

And Garment wouldn't care about any of it. She was still standing there, both offended and concerned over the injuries I'd suffered.

"Look, I know." She made a flippant gesture. "I do. This night didn't go as planned. I had to rush in, I wasn't ready, and I didn't know what to expect. I did what I could, but I'll do better next time."

Slowly Garment seemed to come around. She made an accepting gesture and lowered the laptop. With that, in the light of my workshop, I could suddenly see her clearly. And it struck me what a massive, massive hypocrite she was.

"Garment." She froze at my tone, then slowly turned towards me. "Garment, what happened?"

She seemed to consider things, then took a step forward closer to the light with absolutely no hint of shame. What I could barely make out earlier became crystal clear.

Garment's dress was a mess. Not a dirty mess. It was a nearly shredded mess. She had bullet holes in it. She had a long tear that would have hit the kidney on a normal person. The neckline was pulled and torn and probably only keeping its shape thanks to her power. In short it looked like she had gone through hell and was proud of it.

I took in the damage and sighed. "I stopped by the gym on my way home. I heard what you did." She made an intrigued gesture. "They're doing fine. Really well, actually. Better than most of the city." She looked particularly satisfied at that.

"Why did you decide to send people there?" She made a nebulous gesture towards me. I suppose it was a known factor that she was sure would have people at that time of night. If you had to send them somewhere it was as good a choice as was available.

"I'm proud of what you did, what you accomplished." She perked up. "Even with the..." I gestured towards her dress. "Actually, why haven't you fixed that?" I knew she could have, and easily. So why leave it?

Garment went over to the laptop, which automatically pulled up a text editor as she approached. More significant developments from Survey. Slowly Garment began typing, getting three letters in before Survey managed to hit the right auto-fill.

E...V...I...DENCE

"They need it for evidence?" She gestured assent. That did make a sort of sense. This wasn't some supervilian dust up. There would have to be criminal charges, and that dress was clear evidence of multiple attempts at lethal force. It also showed that she was taking a serious approach to this, rather than just going out and hoping to beat people up.

That actually put her a good deal above my first attempt at hero work. I never even considered prosecution requirements when I went out for my first patrol.

"I saw a twitter photo of one of the people you caught." Garment gestured excitedly and switched to a web browser with her twitter feed.

It was significantly more active than last time. Also the picture I saw was not nearly the only one in circulation. She began to scroll through the tweets on the #GarmentGloves hashtag.

There were multiple pictures of the people she had caught. In fact, in an act of insanity that would only happen in a cape city, some of the recent pictures seemed to be people taking selfies with the bound criminals. The BBPD twitter account was quick to reply to these, recommending that people avoid the crime scene and that officers would arrive shortly to take the suspects into custody.

Oh, she coordinated the color of the restraints to contrast nicely with the person's outfit. That was a very Garment touch.

The selfies seemed to have petered out, so I'm guessing they had rushed the pickup before something unfortunate could happen. Those kinds of assaults don't happen in safe places and you didn't need more people getting in trouble trying to chase a short lived twitter fad.

Further down her feed there were people reposting her introduction video. Others were tweeting photographs of her on the street, though the darkened city made it hard to see details. Likewise with a single short video that allegedly showed Garment saving someone. She was very proud of it, but in the gloom it was basically a flurry of ribbon in the dark with a lot of whip-crack like sounds and then a zoom in on another captured thug, tied up and sewn into silk ribbons.

I spotted another tweet with a single graphic on it. That was a neat detail. Garment had a label. Two raised gloves, crossed at the wrists. Apparently she had sewn it into the clothing that she'd given out and someone from the Gym had posted a picture of it to Twitter. As a logo it worked for her, simple but identifiable.

There were also a few public recruitment offers that had come in from some of the larger corporate teams, though these were being pretty thoroughly mocked by the public for trying. That seemed to be something of an meme that sprung up around this mess. I could see that anyone who tried something that would distract from the response or was perceived as taking advantage of the disaster while it was still happening was being raked over the coals. I mean, it was internet mob behavior, but that didn't mean it was wrong.

Twitter actually was really active. With people limited to cell phone service it seemed to be the main community forum for all the insanity of the night. I checked the global hashtags, with #CapeBlackout being a leading one. Surprisingly #Apeiron was also trending strongly. That made me both proud and embarrassed at the same time. Much further down was #ItsSpelledApeiron, which I'm guessing was probably an online joke around the name having to be pulled from Uber and Leet's stream.

That was probably the cause of that #Khepeiron hashtag. I get Apeiron is an obscure word, but I didn't expect people to mangle the spelling that badly.

I pulled back from twitter and looked towards the workshop. I still hadn't even taken a look at the expansions that had been added. Additionally I had to check the development of both my A.I. and expand their parameters. I'd been using my powers as triggers and had gotten more than enough for a series of upgrades.

Upgrading the A.I. would have to go hand in hand with improving my computer technology. I was getting to the point where transistors were not going to cut it. Until I could get a sample of cybertonium transmuted and start working with extradimensional processors then optical and isolinear computing was my best bet, even with the difficulty adapting to human technology.

And that reminded me. I got up and headed for the kitchen. One by one two dollars worth of quarters were dropped into the jar, the full accounting for all of this insanity. Given how bad tonight went I think keeping it that low is a decent accomplishment. I don't think I ever fully explained the jar to Garment, but she was acting vaguely concerned as she watched me.

I headed back and stood by the workshop door. "Okay, You know about the expansions and all the new powers I got?" She made an excited gesture. "Right, well I have a lot of work to do. I need to catalog everything that showed up, and could use your help for that. Then I need to update systems and build some defenses so that..." I gestured to the costume that was still hanging in mid-air. "...doesn't happen again."

She made an affirmative gesture and I smiled in response.

"So before I get started, is there anything else from tonight you want to show me?"

Garment excitedly raised a finger, then rushed over to the desk and fished a piece of paper from behind the laptop. She hurried back and presented it to me. I looked down at the short message, somewhat stunned.

"Garment, how on Earth did you get Flechette's phone number?"

Jumpchain abilities this chapter:

Don't Need A Team (Ace Combat) 100:
Fighter planes are pretty complicated machines, and more often than not you need a whole crew to maintain them so that they don't break down in the middle of a fight and doom the pilot. You know your plane well enough to circumvent this issue. You've got just the right idea on what needs tuning up and what needs fixing, along with having the speed to be able to fix a plane up by yourself without the need for a crew in a fraction of the time. Performance issues are a thing of the past for you.

Most Holy Order of the Socket Wrench (Fast and Furious) 400:
You are a master mechanic. Repair and upkeep is nice, but you can go beyond the impossible and improve any vehicle. Take a van and make it beat a supercar? Put NOS injectors on a bicycle (and make it work)? How bout something challenging? And anything you can build up you can tear down, too. You're a one-man chop shop and wiring a car to explode takes but a few moments and some chicken wire.
 
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