(Author's Note: The following is an alternate version of events that diverts from chapter 3 of Brockton's Celestial Forge. After three years of working on that story I wanted to take advantage of some of the extra time I have from my new reduced schedule and try my hand at something of an omake. This is a rough idea that I've been entertaining for a while, intending to write something similar as a Christmas special or for some other special occasion. Well, the three-year anniversary of my first posted fic seems like the right occasion.
It was a fun diversion taking a step back to a point in the story where the powers were more moderate, as well as looking at what might happen if a completely different sequence of powers were rolled. I have had quite a few questions about Joe in other settings, so this seemed like a natural way to explore the concept. It's a simple idea that could be extended to use any of Joe's powers as a jumping off point. I'm not sure when I'll be able to continue this work, but it was a pleasant diversion. If there's interest in continuing this work, or in some other crossover, I might explore them when I have the time. At the very least, it will serve to balance out the more intense work on the main story.
I would like to extend my thanks to all my readers for supporting me and my work over the past three years. The story has grown beyond anything I would have imagined, and I am constantly amazed by the reception the story has received. I consider myself lucky to have been able to be part of this community and can't express how much all the support and encouragement I have received has meant to me. Thank you for three incredible years.)
Brockton's Celestial Forge AU – Europa's Celestial Forge
1 Arrival
Standing in the midst of Grue's cloud of darkness in the aftermath of my fight with Oni Lee, I felt my power connect to a new constellation. This one was the Time constellation and the power caused knowledge to bloom into my mind. Scientist: Machinery. It didn't actually have much to do with time, either in the abstract sense or in terms of the speed of construction, but did cover a staggering amount of other information.
It represented a doctorate level education in the subject of machinery. Mechanical engineering and all related fields needed to support such a specialization. The information was immense, covering everything from basic principles to graduate level studies and personal research projects. From a practical standpoint it was of only moderate use to me. It was comprehensive knowledge, but still conventional knowledge. Not one of the super science powers I'd been waiting for. Combined with the Black Thumb power I'd received earlier in the day I was an unquestionable expert in engine and automotive principles, but that wasn't the kind of thing you built a tinker career on. Not unless you could operate to the same level as someone like Squealer. I was good, but I wasn't anywhere close to what she regularly churned out.
But there was something different about this. There was more texture to the information that the power granted. It wasn't just sterile principles and raw knowledge. Instead, it was like there was a connection to something else. Hints and sensations of how the information had been gained, the methods behind the education, and the cultural lens through which it had been presented.
Because this was an entire doctorate, representing an entire life. A connection to something else. Somewhere else. The knowledge, it was still 'conventional' science, but it had an exotic twist. The areas of focus, the context for how it would have been learned, the methodology and examples used, they were all drastically different from anything I was familiar with. Anything from this world.
At that realization it was like something broke. I felt a sensation I had never experienced before. To be fair, I had limited experience with my power, but this was something else. The mote that I had connected to, the mote that detected from the Time constellation, started to move. And it was dragging me along with it.
The movement was less of a displacement and more of a rotation, but a rotation that was occurring along an axis I had no experience with. Even with my new doctoral level education and enhanced mental faculties, I was only able to deduce that I was looking at more than three spatial dimensions. Probably a lot more than three.
It wasn't a pleasant experience. I doubt the human eye is intended to observe things five degrees beyond the z-axis. The fact that I still had my Revealer alchemy formula active from when I needed to see through Grue's darkness was probably not helping things. This was definitely not the time when you'd want to experience heightened levels of visual acuity.
And then it was over. The sense of movement and unpleasant rotation vanished. The new power was holding stable, but it seemed like the rest of the constellations had reoriented around it. There was the seriously pressing concern about what had just happened with my power, but that was secondary to figuring out what had happened to me.
Once again, I fell back on my passenger for support, just like I'd been doing in the week since my trigger. There was a flash of panic as the connection seemed weaker, but with careful focus I could still feel it. It wasn't at risk of vanishing, at least for the time being. Feeling it out, it was stable, but different, like the movement of the constellations had changed the reception the same way moving an antenna would.
The important thing was that my passenger wasn't worried. That made a big difference. At worst there was mild surprise. Mostly there was a sense of amusement and anticipation at the current situation, but not any serious level of concern. In fact, there was a good deal less concern than there had been before. Threats that had been looming since my trigger suddenly weren't.
Based on my passenger's unexpected reaction to the Undersiders, coupled with Tattletale's panicked realization at the fact that I was getting a secondary source of information it felt like I should regard my passenger's reactions with more care. Still, given the unprecedented nature of events and the disorientation that came with them, I was grateful for the comforting presence.
I focused on the details of my new location. I was in an alley filled with old wooden barrels and empty boxes. The walls on either side of me were plaster with exposed wooden beams, the kind you see in some European architecture. And it wasn't night anymore.
The sky was overcast, making it hard to tell the exact time of day, but it definitely wasn't the early hours of the morning anymore. That suggested I had either lost time due to whatever that event was, or I was in a different time zone. The European-styled architecture might actually be Europe. If my power was going to be randomly flinging me halfway across the globe that was something that seemed like it deserved a greater degree of concern than my passenger was giving it.
I could hear the noise of a busy street from the end of the alleyway. People, animals, and even machinery. I needed to get my bearings, but I had to consider if going out in the remains of my costume would be a good idea. My coat had taken a beating from Oni Lee's barrage of grenades and it was only thanks to my healing formulas that I wasn't in the same condition. I had to weigh possible consequences of stepping onto a busy street in a tattered superhero costume. They didn't seem overly promising, given my complete lack of information about the area.
If the alley had a locked door, then I could have just slipped into my Workshop and changed back to civilian gear. Unfortunately, I wasn't so lucky. The only entrance was boarded up tight, meaning I had to work with what I had on me.
Losing the bandanas and visor seemed like a good idea. Without them I wasn't that noticeable. Well, I did have the metal adornments on the rest of my costume, but hopefully that could be overlooked. Or I could take off the coat and carry it over an arm. Or just bundle up everything that was related to my cape persona and make a dash for it.
Without my mask I wasn't likely to attract immediate attention, so I felt confident to creep towards the mouth of the alley and try to get a sense for where I was and what I was dealing with. I scrambled over broken crates and old wooden barrels while noting the lack of any of the typical trash you'd expect to see cluttering an alley. Not to say it was clean, but it was more a collection of scrap and organic waste than typical urban litter.
Reaching the mouth of the alley, I discovered the reason for the discrepancy. It also was immediately clear that, unless my knowledge of European cities was badly out of date, I had been launched a good deal further than a few time zones.
One glance at the street reminded me of my last trip to the market. It was the kind of energetic foot traffic that you only saw in a few parts of Brockton Bay. The tone was familiar, even if the scene itself was completely alien.
Everyone I could see was wearing what would probably count as 'period clothing'. I didn't have the historical knowledge to actually place the period in question. My gut instinct was to label it Victorian, but I'm sure that was just a rough guess on the century rather than any precise assessment of the items on display.
What I could recognize was a complete lack of modern colors or fabrics. No sneakers, no obvious synthetic fabrics, and no hint of anything from after 1900. Which wasn't to say that people were dressed conservatively. There was a huge variety of styles and designs on display. Jewelry, detailed accents, elaborate hats, and accessories were common.
What's more, there was a functional aspect to the clothing. Some people were wearing military uniforms, suits, or overly elaborate dresses, but there were plenty of people in practical work clothes, just still in the same range of materials and colors. It was 'dress-up' clothing that wasn't being worn for dress-up. It was a part of their normal lives.
For whatever counted as normal.
Because it was immediately evident that I hadn't just found some historic throwback. The streets were cobblestone and bustling with people and horse drawn carts, but mixed in amongst them were examples of technology that stood at odds with the rest of the aesthetic. A soldier's tall fur hat was capped with a mechanical eye that swiveled back and forth as he walked. On the street every third or fourth cart seemed to be supplemented with some kind of technological assistance, whether an integrated motor that belched smoke or steam or a fully robotic draft horse that hauled the load. A man in a long coat and wide hat shuffled past the mouth of the alley, doing a poor job of concealing a clearly mechanical left arm.
At a glance I could see evidence of more advanced works in the city's design. Intricate lampposts spaced along the streets. A type of complicated hydrant with a mechanical interior barely visible through a loose access panel. There was a whirl of gears as a large robot in what looked like academic robes marched behind a pair of what I guessed were police officers, except their badges were in the shape of scarab beetles, rather than the typical shields.
The most disorienting thing about all the incredible features on display was the fact that, on a certain level, it wasn't disorienting. Instead, it was familiar. I had context for everything I was seeing even though I had never encountered it before.
Because that context didn't come from my own personal experiences, it came from my latest power. The same power that had reacted unexpectedly and flung me across spatial axes that I didn't even know existed. The same power that had completely changed the structure and layout of the constellations of the Celestial Forge. That power, and the knowledge it granted, was perfectly at home here.
Obviously, it would be, because this was where it was from.
Alternate universes. It was something I had never considered. To be fair, I had been dealing with a lot in the wake of my trigger. I think I could be forgiven for taking my power at face value, rather than launching into mad theories about extra dimensional origins. The implications of what this could mean were staggering. Was it like this for every power I received? Was there a universe out there for Fashion, Bling of War, Evermore Alchemist, and Black Thumb? Could I have ended up in one of them, instead of finding myself here? How had this happened, and did I need to worry about this happening again?
And most of all, how did I get back? Could I even get back to my own world?
I had no way of knowing. It was the kind of question that could drive a person mad. The sudden loss of… well, I didn't exactly have that much to go back to, particularly after the falling out with my family, but Brockton Bay was my home. I might have grown up in the suburbs, but it was still my city. I knew how hard it had been hit by the recession and the gangs. I wanted to make a difference. With my power it had felt like I finally could, and then suddenly everything was snatched away.
But not forever. I had no way of knowing that, but I wasn't the only one in the equation. Once again, my passenger stepped up when despair threatened to overwhelm me. There was an absolute assurance that I could find my way back. That there was a way and I could find it. Until then, I just needed to survive here.
Which was something that my passenger seemed much more optimistic. It wasn't that this world was safe. Just a sampling of the general populace with their range of cybernetics, mutations, or openly carried weapons was a testament to that. No, there was plenty of danger here, it was just nowhere near the level of what I had to contend with back on Earth Bet.
When I figured out what my passenger was alluding to it hit me like a truck. In this world, the Simurgh didn't exist. As of this instant, I was completely beyond her reach. That massive invisible threat that had hung over the heads of every person on the planet was suddenly gone. Hopekiller couldn't touch me. I was free.
The sensation was enough to overwhelm me. Pure joy bubbled up in a way I couldn't remember ever feeling. Not on this level. I began to laugh. All my plans, all my contingencies, all my concerns and terrified imaginings were suddenly moot. The Simurgh could not reach me.
As I was laughing the Clothing constellation passed by, but the mote that my power tried to reach was too large to be secured. But that was fine. I could still get more powers. I could build up my strength without worrying about bringing an Endbringer down on my head. I could amass power and find my way back and return in a state where I was ready for the challenges that lay before me.
I felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. My legs felt shaky and I found myself leaning against the wall by the mouth of the alley. I slid down to sit on the ground, the pure joy of my situation drawing forth more laughter as I made feeble attempts to steady myself.
I was still in a serious situation, but it was hard to treat it as such. I mean, everything that had just happened, the impossibility of it all, was totally overshadowed by the simple fact that I did not have to dance around the precognitive pigeon anymore. And it wasn't just avoidance. I could actively plan against her. Plan and build and prepare everything I could so that the moment I returned I could unleash hell upon her.
A ringing sound from the ground in front of me drew my awareness back to my surroundings. A passing woman had tossed a couple of coins at me, then muttered something about temperance as she hurried on her way. And I realized I was attracting similar looks from the other pedestrians. Right. A man in a tattered coat laughing to himself while collapsed in an alley during the middle of the day. It painted an obvious picture.
Another coin joined the two on the ground, this time from a man with more of a concerned look compared to the previous woman's admonishing one. It was probably a good idea to move on before I attracted the wrong kind of attention. I still remembered the hulking robot that had been accompanying the two assumed police officers.
I called out a thank you to the man and earned a polite nod as he continued on his way. I felt a bit bad about accepting the charity, but I was effectively without any local currency, so I couldn't really afford to pass up any resources. As I scooped up the strange coins something occurred to me. The woman who muttered about temperance hadn't been speaking English. And neither had I when I thanked the man.
The words had come out almost automatically, but the distinction was clear when I focused on it. Somehow, buried in the knowledge that came with my last power, was complete fluency in the local language. Some Germanic language that I could now speak as easily as English. It hadn't overwritten anything, but it was so natural that I didn't even need to worry about translation. As someone who had struggled his way through high school French and promptly forgotten ninety percent of the course content immediately after the last exam, sudden proficiency in an entire language was somehow even more jarring than the doctorate level education that had come with it.
I pocketed the coins after a quick examination. They were brass discs that reminded me of pictures of old British pennies. They were all valued at one of whatever the local denomination was, which was about what I expected for thrown pocket change. Not exactly seed capital, or even enough to put a roof over your head, but then again, in theory I only needed a door with a lock to be able to access my Workshop.
That was something I needed to test as soon as possible. My Workshop was extradimensional, which would normally put it beyond concern, but given the unprecedented nature of what had just happened I wasn't exactly feeling secure.
I straightened my coat as much as I could, smoothing out the wrinkles but not being able to do anything about the damage. Still, a slightly frayed coat was less of an issue if I wasn't collapsed and giggling to myself in an alleyway.
I could still feel that wonderful lightness of being free of the Simurgh. It kept a smile on my face as I stepped out into the street and began following the flow of the crowd. I had the feeling that things were going to catch up to me at some point. A change of this magnitude was going to be difficult to really process, and when things did hit me, I was anticipating them hitting hard. For the moment the exhilaration of being actually free of the worst threat to human progress combined with the wonder of seeing a new world with my own eyes was enough to carry me aloft, at least for the moment.
Having a bit more time to process things in relation to the information I had gained from Scientist: Machinery I was struck with a revelation. This world wasn't the one that power had come from. More specifically, it wasn't exactly that world. That was a world where I, or a version of me, or possibly some person who was somehow entangled in the Celestial Forge, had completed a doctorate.
I was not that person. In fact, I was sure that person wasn't here. There was a sense of distance that remained from the power. It was close, but this wasn't the exact same world. It was like if someone had a power tied to Earth Bet but ended up on Earth Aleph instead. Well, maybe not quite that different, but there was a divergence of details nonetheless. My power had taken me into the multiverse cluster of the source of my power, but not directly into the shoes of whoever I or he or whatever the source of that knowledge had been.
There were concerning implications to that and I filed them away with the rest of my concerns. I could defer my existential crisis and mental breakdown until such time as I was secure enough to be able to properly collapse without undue risk. Right now, I needed to learn as much as I could about this city and this world without arousing suspicion.
Arousing suspicion didn't seem like it would be an issue. In truth, I probably fit in better in the maskless version of my cape costume than I would have in my civilian clothing. Even the metal plates decorating my coat were barely noteworthy compared to the adornments seen on some of the outfits. I wasn't earning a second glance from anyone, which was understandable in a city that included cyborgs, robots, and people with drastically warped anatomies.
That was a point that was harder for me to deal with than I expected. Seeing people with lobster claws or multiple heads or mismatched body parts that had been stitched together struck closer to my original trigger than I was comfortable with. I tried to restrain my reactions, but it wasn't easy when the potential of what I could have become was on such clear display.
At least I was moderating my reactions. There were some people who clearly looked down on anyone with a significant deviation from a human form. As I walked past a couple of taverns that had "No Constructs" signs posted. Given the fact that their clientele all had conventionally human forms, I was guessing that was this world's shorthand for the people with altered anatomy.
Honestly, that just presented an entirely new set of concerns. Namely that such a wide category was bundled under a single term. I thankfully didn't have any expertise in the biological sciences, but even I could tell that there was probably a different procedure between the creation of someone with sparking bolts in their neck and stitched together pieces of what looked like three different bodies and someone with a fishbowl for a head. It wasn't clear if they were people who had been turned into a new form or if they had been created from scratch.
Like I said, it was hitting a lot of buttons for me. Fortunately, it wasn't like being uncomfortable around 'constructs' was at all unusual, even if I was probably approaching it from a different direction from most people. I did my best to keep my mind off things as I worked my way through the city, keeping an eye out for an isolated door where I could test my key.
Isolated was hard to come by in the city. In Beetleburg. The name was posted often enough and incorporated into the names of various businesses. It definitely explained the scarab iconography that could be found just about everywhere, along with the various posters and placards praising the city's 'Tyrant', one Doctor Tarsus Beetle. I did remember something about how the term tyrant just meant an absolute leader, not necessarily a cruel one. The fact that the term was being used affectionately suggested it was more of a legal descriptor than a moral judgment. That, along with the fact that his title of 'Doctor' was emphasized as much as his leadership role suggested things might not be as extreme as they seemed.
And then I found the jars.
If you ever wanted clear evidence that you were dealing with a different time with vastly different moral standards, just look at their methods of punishment. The giant bell jars were the kind of thing that might have been used in place of gibbets if they had sufficient glass working skill at the time horrible methods of execution were in vogue. Seeing the decaying bodies of criminals sealed behind glass and placed on public display was the kind of thing that definitely put a damper on my excitement for this new world. Sure, there was no Simurgh, but apparently slow horrible torture was an accepted practice.
I swallowed and quickly moved back into the flow of pedestrians, most of which weren't giving the jars a second look. They weren't avoiding them out of distaste, they just seemed to find the scene completely mundane. I hurried past a couple of men in navy uniforms with beetle badges on their side caps who seemed to be amused by my shocked reaction. Amused, but not suspicious, at least as far as I could tell. I'm guessing that in their eyes the jars had caused the exact effect they were intended to.
My power just barely missed a connection to a constellation I hadn't identified yet as I hurried down the street away from the city center. It made sense that following the flow of foot traffic would bring me here, but at the moment I needed to be more prudent in how I used my time. I needed information on the city, the world, and the state of my workshop. Unfortunately, it wasn't like they were just handing out basic information to anyone who asked.
Actually…
"Of course, there are many places where you can learn more about the life and history of the glorious and illustrious leader of our city." The woman said cheerfully.
It had been something of a shot in the dark, finding someone in a civic uniform and asking them about avenues of information. I had been betting that anyone who posed for posters like the ones I had seen around the town was going to have more advanced layers of borderline-propaganda in place. I fully expected any information I got through this method to be heavily biased, but considering my starting point was what I had seen while wandering through the city, the vague context of my last power, and the various scraps of gossip I had overheard in the city, though that was mostly about recent crop yields, the recent spike in honey prices, or frustration with various types of tradesmen. Just the typical background noise of any major city.
"Of course, you must find the time to visit Transylvania Polygnostic University. The next public exhibition is in three weeks, and I believe they've fully addressed that unpleasantness with the undergraduate students from last time." The uniformed woman said with a smile. "There are also tours available for prospective students, but those must be arranged with the university directly. I would warn against approaching the campus without authorization."
"Right, the 'clanks'?" I asked. I'd both seen and heard the term and hoped my pronunciation was natural enough.
She smiled widely. "Indeed. The finest self-contained fighting machines on the planet and a point of personal pride of Doctor Beetle himself." She beamed. I remembered the gun handed automaton with its academic robes. It was easy to imagine the source of the inspiration for that design.
"The Beetleburg Central Library does contain an extensive collection of Dr. Beetle's writings and personal works, and of course his more accessible volumes can be found in any reputable bookseller." She looked over me, specifically the still quite damaged coat. "Though perhaps your best option might be the Beetleburg Museum. They allow complimentary admission to the minor exhibits on Monday and Wednesday afternoons." A series of chimes began ringing out over the city, slowly counting to twelve. "They also have a quite lovely gift shop." She added, though not with any serious degree of enthusiasm.
Well, at least my run-down appearance had the benefit of directing people towards the absolutely cheapest option.
"Thank you. I would enjoy a chance to visit the museum. Um…" Tapered off.
"Directions?" She offered.
"Please." I replied.
"No problem at all. Now, you take Slate Avenue for three and a quarter blocks, then climb the alternate stairs to the footbridge. After that…"
She rattled on for some time, leaving me mostly nodding and doing my best to commit the information to memory. I was probably lucky that Scientist: Machinery also served to boost my 'intelligence'. That was something of a complex concept in terms of what was affected and to what degree, but it at least helped with my recall and spatial reasoning skills. I was able to keep the entire sequence in my head without needing to ask for clarification on more than a few points.
Which just left me to actually navigate the city properly, rather than just following the flow of foot traffic and hoping for the best. Looking at things again, what had seemed mostly random in terms of the street layout and arrangement of alleys and bypasses was actually complexity on top of complexity. There was a staggering amount of civic planning that had gone into this place. I suppose when you had an absolute ruler that kind of thing was easy to push forward.
Of course, that was mainly contingent on the ruler being both competent and at least not actively malicious. Judging by the general attitude towards Doctor Beetle, he seemed to at least be regarded as such. Still, those jars lingered in my mind. It was possible they said more about the state of the world than the man running this city, but I was kind of hoping that he was an outlier.
From what I saw at the museum, that was definitely not the case. The museum was an impressive building, though the 'minor exhibits' seemed to refer more to their target audience than the nature of what was on display. It was basically a collection of simple exhibits in the outer portion of the building intended for children and the barely literate. Personally, I was a bit concerned if I had given that poor of an impression to a member of the city's civic staff.
The sad thing was, this was basically exactly what I needed. I had zero context for this world, so what was effectively a pop-up level explanation of the major elements was pretty much perfect. At least it would have been if it wasn't so concerning.
I was extrapolating a lot from what limited information was on offer, but simply put, this world was fucked. It might not have had Endbringers, but by all accounts, it didn't really need them. Even the simplified accounts of the city's history were heavily focused on wars with other powers and the defense of the city.
From what I could tell, most of Europe was wasteland between various centers of power and other strongholds. I'm pretty sure the references to monsters in the wastes weren't exaggerations. The power balance reminded me of the warlord factions that had developed in Africa and were beginning to emerge in other areas of Earth Bet. Mostly because those centers of power seemed to be focused on 'Sparks'.
It wasn't exactly clear what sparks were since it was either assumed that everyone knew, or was presented in such a childish manner that it was hard to draw any precise conclusions. From what I could tell, sparks were geniuses who build improbably advanced technology. There was a reference to a spark 'breaking through' in one of the accounts, which seemed to be the point where they unlocked their abilities. At this point things were sounding frighteningly familiar.
They were tinkers. I was in a world where everything was run by tinkers. Tinkers that had apparently existed for dozens, maybe hundreds of times longer than parahumans had on Earth Bet. What's more, it seemed like it was only tinkers. There were plenty of other fantastic elements to this world, but they all circled back to tinkers. The result of some experiment or technology, not something emerging independently from something similar to a 'breakthrough'.
At least, I didn't see any. To be fair, I was observing grade-school level history displays that were flanked engravings of cartoon beetles explaining interesting facts. Not exactly a comprehensive guide to the history of the world.
Still, even if the information was incomplete and definitely overly slanted towards the aggrandizement of Beetleburg, it was probably broadly accurate. Which meant I had a good idea of exactly how bad this world was.
It's funny. People always complained and wondered why tinkers didn't just get together and solve all the world's problems. As if taking unstable people with technology that can't be understood or replicated and putting them in the same room was going to lead to anything but disaster. The problem was they probably thought of 'tinker' in terms of Dragon, Hero, or even Armsmaster, not String Theory, Lab Rat, Blasto, or Bonesaw. That was definitely the trend I was seeing here. If anything, the giant jars of horror were on the merciful side of what could happen if someone got on the wrong side of a spark.
Yeah, this was all cutting way too close to the bone for me. My original trigger would have basically had me fitting in perfectly with the most brutal sparks of Europa, and that was before I got to the accounts of The Other War.
About two decades ago a mysterious opponent had basically brought the continent to its knees. Most of the accounts were focused on Dr. Beetle's valiant defense of the city during the conflict, but there was still enough information to be thoroughly frightening.
Funny, the motto of Transylvania Polygnostic University was "Know Enough to Be Afraid". It seemed that principle was applied liberally in all areas of the city.
What hit me particularly hard was the way the Other had fought. Rather than the mechanical works that seemed to be typical of most sparks, their work had been entirely biological. Engineered, self-replicating organisms, functioning both as warriors and infiltrators. The infiltrators were the most frightening aspect. Tiny wasps capable of infecting a person and turning them into a shambling revenant in service to the other. Biological engineering and mind control. It lined up a little too well with my original trigger for comfort.
I hadn't realized the strength of my reactions to what I was seeing until I had started attracting attention from the museum staff. I felt like an idiot for basically freaking out in front of a juvenile account of a historic event, but to my surprise I was met with nothing but sympathy.
"Sir? Are you doing alright?" A member of the museum's staff asked cautiously. The man was in an elaborate uniform and probably in his late forties. He sported an enormous handlebar mustache that might have been comical if not for the serious expression on his face.
"Um, yeah. I'm fine." It was clear he didn't believe me. I was getting the kind of look that you give someone when you're wondering if they're about to bolt or do something stupid. Or dangerous. I took a deep breath and tried to remember the mindfulness principles that I had gone over so many times in therapy. I wasn't sure they really helped, but the fact that I was making an effort to control myself seemed to go a long way with the man.
"This isn't an easy subject for anyone." He assured me before glancing at the display. "People want to think it's all in the past, particularly in a safe place like Beetleburg. I'm guessing you've been through the wastes?" He asked.
I hadn't and the assumption that I was somehow personally impacted by the Other or the remains of their work was totally off base. Still, I didn't have a better explanation for why I had started freaking out in public. I gave the man a nod, which he returned.
"Come on, let's get you a cup of tea from the museum café." He said, gently guiding me away.
That's how I found myself sitting at a sunlit table with a complimentary cup of tea and even a small plate with a few biscuits. I didn't know what it was about me that made me come off as a charity case, or about the city that made them inclined towards indulging me, but I wasn't complaining.
Sitting in the sun, I was able to feel out the connection to my passenger. The reassurance was there, but the link wasn't as strong as it had been before. If I didn't look for it, it was easy to miss. The constant flow of support and reassurance that would normally have kept me from becoming caught up in the details of my trigger had been drowned out by the shock at the nature of what I was dealing with in this world and the entire mess it represented.
Well, it might be a mess, but still, there was no Simurgh. It really said something about what an all-imposing presence she had been that even when faced with a world full of insane tinkers, each with the resources of a nation and the ethics of a seagull, it still seemed like a step up. It was a horrible world in a horrible state, but there was one crucial difference. One thing that set it apart from Earth Bet.
The people here had hope.
They carried themselves through difficulty and pressed on. It wasn't to say there wasn't darkness or despair, it's just that they didn't have an overarching force working to snuff out those lights. The various references to the 'Heterodyne Boys' were more uplifting than what you saw from even the most optimistic Protectorate propaganda. It stood in rather sharp contrast to some of the earlier accounts of the city's history with respect to the 'Heterodynes', but that just made the impact they had all the more impressive.
Clearly, this wasn't just some vacation where I could relax and build up my power until I was ready to go home. There were serious problems in this world that would need to be addressed on at least some level if I was even going to survive here, much less make a difference.
It had been downplayed in the exhibits, but it was clear the political situation as incredibly volatile. Currently there was some overarching rule that had been put in place following the Other War, but that had the sense of begrudging acceptance at best. At worst it probably ranged from open rebellion to covert subversion of the Baron's authority. Personally, I had no idea what to make of the governing body itself. Too little information and basically no context.
Then there were the various threats that would need to be contended with. Both the sparks themselves and the impact they'd had on the world over possibly hundreds of years. Maybe even thousands. It was insane to think of a society of parahumans surviving for that length of time, but looking at the state of the world it became clear that there were various levels of what could be considered survival.
You just needed to look at the actual state of the world. I'd only seen a simplified map, but the impact was clear. The British Isles were basically gone, there were significant discrepancies to the coastlines of most of Europe, America was basically completely unknown, and anything too far into Africa or Asia wasn't much better. Technology had not only failed to save the world, it seemed to have been wracking up a significant deficit in the process.
I downed the last of my tea as I felt another connection form, this time to a new constellation. The constellation was called Resources and Durability and the new power dwarfed all the ones I had acquired thus far. It was twice the size of Fashion or Evermore Alchemist and four times the size of my other powers. That massive power, the first ability that truly felt like a proper ability was simply called Efficiency. And that's what it did.
The second I acquired the power I could feel its effects. Perfect efficiency in every action. It extended to every possible level, every aspect of my life. I would never use more energy, material, or flourish than I needed to. It didn't matter if I was building an engine or fighting for my life. The effect worked just as well on my crafting as it did on my own movements.
It was incredible. Just taking a breath felt different. No waste at all. No loss or unnecessary aspects to any part of my motions. No lost energy or irrelevant aspects to the act. This was going to massively speed up and improve all of my work, but that might be the least significant part of the power. Perfect efficiency of movement, perfect use of stamina, avoidance of any unnecessary flourish beyond what was needed for my goal.
Just thinking about it in terms of my incredibly basic boxing abilities, they were suddenly amplified tremendously. How much of training was devoted to refinement of movements? Removing unnecessary practices or bad form? Sure, I wasn't an expert boxer, but what I knew was instantly trained to a level of perfect efficiency, and would always be.
I stood up with an unnaturally smooth movement. Every shift of my body seemed perfectly aligned. I was a bit concerned about how unnatural it might come across, but instead of concern or suspicion I just got a kind look from the woman running the café.
"Tea seems to have done you some good." She said with a smile.
"Yes, thank you." I replied. "I'm feeling much better."
That was an understatement. I was practically floating as I walked down the street. I still had a considerable challenge ahead of me, but I had already gotten an incredible tool to help me deal with it. If this was the standard of what my higher-level powers were going to be like then I was feeling a lot more optimistic about my chances, even when weighed against a continent full of mad super-tinkers.
But I still needed to secure some basic resources. Food, money, and a place to stay. Or at least access to a door that would hopefully lead to my workshop. Really, how was I going to survive in a city that relied heavily on mechanical constructs with only a supernatural understanding or design, engines, mechanics, and the ability to carry them all out with perfect efficiency?
Yeah, I would probably be fine. At least for long enough for me to build up a decent base of power. I had done pretty well in the last couple of days, but it wasn't like I was going to amass enough power to conquer the continent in the space of a week or two.
The sound of an engine backfiring drew my attention and I looked over my shoulder to find a rather overbuilt motorized cart belching smoke while an old woman with her gray hair in a bun beat the engine casing with a walking stick. The back of the cart was loaded with produce crates that were starting to blacken with soot from the engine. Through the combination of my abilities, I could tell this wasn't good. Not the 'need to replace the engine' kind of not-good, the 'the entire thing was going to go up in flames' kind of not-good.
"Madam?" I called out, vaulting smoothly over a vegetable stand to reach the smoking vehicle. "Do you need some help?"
Effectively, it was a way to pay back the good will that had been extended to me in this city, and also stop an impending oil fire in the middle of the street.
The woman huffed. "If you're offering, I won't say no. Not after that mechanic brushed off a perfectly normal maintenance service." She tutted. "I'm Frau Gruber and I would appreciate your assistance."
"Józef Ďuriš, pleasure to meet you." I said as I approached the vehicle. In the new Germanic language my name had a pronunciation I'd only remember hearing from older relatives. Still, it seemed familiar enough for the woman's satisfaction.
I doubted it had been a perfectly normal maintenance service that the woman had been referring to. Possibly a decommissioning or salvage operation. The automated cart was an incredible combination of elegant design and immeasurable decay. I'd say there had to be decades of wear and rust, and that was just at the surface level. I could only imagine what I was going to find when I looked at the engine.
I found the access panned and pulled it open, causing an immense plume of smoke to billow into my face. The casing was so hot that without the reinforcement of my Fashion power I would probably have burned my hand on contact.
As it stood, exposing the engine to oxygen was probably the last thing it needed. I could see parts start to glow and flicker and quickly launched into an effort to beat out any budding flames. Once again, without both durability and perfect efficiency it would have been an invitation to lose fingers to either severe burns or crushing them inside the active motor. Luckily for me, one of those fingers was a Black Thumb.
That specific power seemed to have been built for situations like this. Repairing a massively decayed engine while it was still running and belching smoke just felt right. Sure, the engine was just barely salvageable, but I was working with both perfect efficiency and a graduate knowledge of mechanics.
In the midst of smoke, flame, rust, oil, and wear I found a kind of Zen state. Fingers with the durability of steel handled with perfect efficiency could manipulate machine parts as well as a wrench, and that same efficiency allowed the shifting of parts that would normally be at the very limit of what a human could budge.
Honestly, I was half done before I realized it might be a bit easier if I actually shut off the engine. I mean, it wasn't an obstacle thanks to my Black thumb power, but to allow the repairs to hold I needed to get a bit creative. Efficient use of the parts and materials, a few acts of creative repurposing of 'spare' components, and a few more cheats to make up for the places where those spares had been removed from.
By the time I was done I had attracted a bit of a crowd. It seemed a man frantically working on a burning engine counted as street entertainment. I imagine once it became clear that I wasn't going to injure myself there was a bit of amusement to be had seeing how far I could get with nothing by Frau Gruber's equivalent of a roadside service kit.
When the engine finally turned over there was actually some earnest applause from the half dozen or so spectators that had gathered. I also became acutely aware of the amount of grease and soot I had acquired during the repair process. A man seemed to consider offering me his handkerchief, but then decided against it.
"Fantastic." Frau Gruber exclaimed. "I told them there was nothing that a bit of work wouldn't take care of. Can you believe they told me I should have this scrapped? After it's been in my family for four generations?"
I could very much believe that, but decided it was probably best not to say as much. "Really?" I asked.
"Indeed. No initiative in the younger generations. Always folding at the first little trouble." Like a nearly exploding engine, I thought. "Yourself excluded, of course."
I nodded. "Well, I'm glad I could help." I noticed flakes of soot falling from my hair every time I moved. I could only imagine how bad things were in general.
She tutted again. "Dear me. We can't have you walking around in that state." She shifted a leaver and the engine spun up smoothly, earning a lovely smile from the old woman. "Come along, at least all me to get you cleaned up and a hot meal for your trouble."
I had to wonder what the actual value of that kind of maintenance work would be, but then again, I had been leaning into Black Thumb modifications to manage the repairs. I doubted what I did was exactly up to code or convention or environmental regulations or really any measure of good sense.
"Thank you." I said, climbing up next to the woman.
Frau Gruber tested the controls one more time, then fully engaged the throttle. The overloaded cart launched itself with all the speed its rebuilt engine could manage. The crates slammed backwards, as did I. Without Efficiency I doubted I'd have been able to stay in my seat. Without effective invincibility I would have been seriously concerned about my ability to survive the woman's driving.
"Would you look at that." She cried in affection as she took a corner at a speed that put us on two wheels. "I haven't been able to get it to move like that since I was a girl. I told them it just needed a quick overhaul to be right as rain."
"Uh-hu." I said as I gripped my seat while the engine roared and reinforced wheels sparked against cobblestones.
"You know, we should go see that mechanic and tell him what for." She said, taking a sudden corner. "The nerve, really. Why, this is practically a national treasure, and he said it should be scrapped."
"He did?" I asked.
"Well, his wife did. He just gave me one of those looks, but you can always tell what they mean." She continued.
"I'm sorry?" I asked.
"The man doesn't speak. Of course, his wife never stops, so it balances out. But once he sees what you were able to accomplish here I bet even he'll be ready to sing of your praises. Metaphorically, of course." She chattered as she worked the levers that launched us at speeds that would have been unacceptably dangerous even in a car with modern safety features.
So, my reward for helping this woman was a death race through the city followed by having to present and explain the abomination against mechanics I had performed on this engine, along with the implications of having apparently armed an unstable woman with the equivalent of a deadly weapon.
Oh, and I would get a hot meal, and a chance to wash up. Yeah, that totally balanced things out.
The cart skidded to a stop in a manner that made me very grateful that I had personally rebuilt the braking system to the point of complete confidence.
"This is it." She said proudly as I felt the Forge miss a connection to another unknown constellation.
Looking up I saw a well appointed garage and machine shop, built in the same plaster and wood design as the rest of the city. There were a set of wide doors for larger equipment and vehicles as well as a customer entrance to the left. Above the doors was a painted sign proclaiming the name of the shop.
"Clay Mechanical"
And through the diminished connection to my passenger, I could feel just a hint of excitement.
Previous Jumpchain Abilities:
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.
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...
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.
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.
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!
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.
Jumpchain abilities this chapter:
Efficiency (Lego: Ninjango) 400:
Waste not, want not! Not with this, anyway – whether building machines or making quick moves in combat, you'll never unintentionally use more energy, materials, or flourish than you need to.
