Brockton's Celestial Forge (Worm/Jumpchain)
- Thread starter LordRoustabout
- Start date
- Location
- Germany
@LordRoustabout Do you know what would fit really well in the Celestial Forge? Almost everything in the Generic Builder Jumpchain
would compliment it. Don't get me wrong, the Celestial Forge is awesome but it is a little outdated and a lot of new stuff came out since 2016, so I think you have every right to expand the collection of Perks and in it, as long as they fit the theme.
would compliment it. Don't get me wrong, the Celestial Forge is awesome but it is a little outdated and a lot of new stuff came out since 2016, so I think you have every right to expand the collection of Perks and in it, as long as they fit the theme.
- Location
- Australia
I've been following and enjoying this. Your story shines when you have character interaction on screen, whether it be conflict or simple discussion. It falters when you have long periods of introspection, specifically about power related things. The easiest way to improve your writing would be to trim words, and focus on advancing the story. Obviously, this is a tinker fic, and you've shown that you enjoy writing about the particulars of the MC's power, but from a pure story telling perspective, those are the parts that weigh it down the most.
I'm looking forward to more.
I'm looking forward to more.
14 Debut
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
14 Debut
I might have signed up for an argument with forum mods at an hour so late it might technically count as early, but seeing Garment literally pull herself together in response made it worth the trouble. I just had to figure out how she had managed to cause this many problems in a few hours.
As I loaded her posting history I felt the Celestial Forge pull the Vehicle constellation towards me and connect to one of the smaller motes called Fingers of Silver. It was essentially reverse engineering on steroids and would let me understand and copy the inner workings of any technology I could get my hands on. Well, provided it was actual technology and not something facilitated by parahuman powers. More advanced tinker tech would be difficult to analyze, but with my other technical powers and my Laboratorium it would be considerably easier.
That was something to deal with later. For now I had to try to sort out this mess. I started by looking through Garments posting history. There was a lot of it. It looked like she had been posting pretty much continuously since I had set up the account. There was a delay between posts, but that seemed to be based on typing speed and her ability to find content and navigate between forums. Other than that she just hadn't stopped.
Looking at some of her earlier posts they seemed to be met with bemusement and the odd positive comment or question. The problems started when she began posting on more active forums or people tried to engage her directly. PHO was a great site, but the quote/reply set up wasn't as good as it could have been. On an active thread someone would question Garment, then there would be a half dozen posts before she would be able to reply. This led to the reply being misconstrued, which would lead to Garment correcting herself, once again after a pile of posts that changed the tone of the conversation and turned would have been a fairly reasonable reply to something either nonsensical or provocative.
Things got worse in private messages. Garment did not like using more than one word replies, so when people started messaging her directly the conversations usually went badly. Early stuff seemed lighthearted enough with people engaging on fashion topics and asking for single word evaluations, but when people started with serious questions and just got the same there were a few meltdowns, both in her PMs and in the threads.
That was around the time the warnings started. There were accusations of her being a bot or just trolling, and her efforts to counter them were as hampered as any other part of her communication. Eventually the mods stepped in. She had actually gotten some people riled up to the point where threads were locked or specific rules were put in place. Following that there were direct messages that she hadn't been able to answer sufficiently, followed by the ban.
It was exactly the kind of shit storm I had been worried about, though Garment had managed to pull it off in record time. I felt a little guilty since I had been dead to the world while Garment had been trying desperately to defend herself. Also I had been fully merged with a computer at the time. I had at least passive awareness that Garment was still posting, but I hadn't paid attention to exactly what was happening. It wasn't a question of respecting privacy, I had dumped her into the deep end and left her to sink upon her failure to swim.
The worst part was knowing there was a good chance I wouldn't be able to patch this up. I didn't have a lot of experience with online forums but I knew this kind of thing was pretty much poison for a new member. At this point anyone who didn't think she was a bot probably assumed she was trolling the board with a disposable account.
I looked over at Garment's nervous movements. She was actually wringing her gloves as she watched me go through her posting history. I gave her the most reassuring smile I could manage and started typing in the reply field.
GarmentGloves:
Hello, this is Garment's friend. I want to express her apology for what happened on the forum. Garment has significant communication difficulties and didn't intend to cause any disruption. I have reviewed her posting history and I believe she was sincerely trying to follow the forum guidelines and moderator instructions but was unable to effectively convey her intent.
I helped Garment set up her account earlier tonight and did not check on her until she informed me of the current situation. I should have been more attentive of her actions to prevent something like this from happening so I would like to offer my own apology as well.
This forum and online interaction has become a very important outlet for Garment. She was extremely distraught by the sudden suspension and the permanent ban from topics she is passionate about. If there is any way to alleviate the restrictions I assure you I will work with Garment to help ensure there is no repeat of tonight's events. Thank you for your consideration.
P.S. The following message is all Garment was able to compose before she came to me for help.
I M SORRY
I couldn't bring myself to delete Garment's typing. I just hope it doesn't come across as manipulative. With the message sent I sat with Garment as we watched her inbox. I had heard about how vigilant the mods on this forum are, so there was a good chance of getting a ruling even this late at night. The fact that they had consolidated so many violations against Garment rather than leave things for a later ruling shows that.
Sitting there refreshing the page made the minutes seem like hours. Finally a message appeared in the inbox. Garment froze in anticipation as I loaded it.
Tin_Mother:
Thank you for your sincere appeal. I would like to express my sympathy for your situation. Unfortunately given the number of complaints filed and a lack of supporting evidence I have no choice but to uphold the ban. Upon the end of the two week period I will be willing to revisit the possibility of access to some of the permanently banned boards subject to moderator review.
I let out a breath. That was about as bad as I feared. Garment slumped beside me, almost deflating. I skimmed through the list of infractions and warnings again and reviewed the specific complaints. This was a mess. There was basically no chance of getting this resolved with what I could communicate through personal messages.
My eyes fell on the laptop's built in camera, then swung over to Garment. That was an idea. Was it a good idea? Who the hell knew, it was nearly four in the morning and I'd spent most of the night thinking like a computer.
Okay, seriously consider this. It would resolve this issue. It would get Garment back on the forum, if not completely unbanned than at least engaged. And it would effectively give PHO a cape account, and those were always popular.
Downsides? It would mean announcing a 'cape' to the world. That would attract attention, but nothing as bad as what I had done for myself. Also, announcing like this would spare Garment any association with the baggage I'd built up for my own debut.
"Garment, if there was a way to fix this, but it would mean a lot more attention and scrutiny, would you be okay with that?" She immediately perked up. Oh yeah, asking Garment if she was alright with attention was kind of a no brainer. Was I okay with this? It would let Garment be her own person, and that was important. Besides, it was Garment.
Additionally, I was getting an uncertain but somewhat positive impression from my passenger regarding Tin_Mother. Not enough to completely bank on, but definitely no warning signs. I wondered if the rumors about tinkers working as mods for PHO carried any weight. The reaction wasn't the deciding factor, but it provided a comforting level of reassurance. I opened the message and started composing a reply.
GarmentGloves:
Thank you for your sympathy. If we were able to present evidence of the reason behind Garment's communication problems would that be enough to reconsider the ban?
Tin_Mother:
That would depend heavily on the nature of the evidence. Please don't feel the need to share any private or medically confidential information over this matter.
I looked to Garment and got an encouraging and hopeful gesture.
GarmentGloves:
If you could temporarily remove the ban Garment would like to post a video explaining her situation.
Tin_Mother:
I am willing to unblock a single board. Please note if this privilege is abused your ban may be extended permanently.
Garment put a glove on my shoulder as I typed the reply.
GarmentGloves:
Thank you. Please unblock General ► Cape Culture ►Cape Introductions
Tin_Mother:
One moment.
There was a period of interminable waiting before the next message arrived.
Tin_Mother:
Your connection is reasonably secure. Please continue. Note that abuse of the Cape Introductions board can result in permanent suspension of account.
Well, that was slightly concerning. Maybe what they say about PHO moderators lived up to the hype.
A short time later I was sitting with Garment in front of the freshly loaded and unlocked board hosting a newly posted thread and the first one from GarmentGloves. Despite everything I had done to check things and make sure the transfer went through properly Garment was still a bundle of nerves. She probably would be until she saw the video on the site.
I navigated to the first and only post and loaded the video, which was the full sum of the post's contents. The video began to play, showing the limited resolution and framerate of the built in webcam. I could have managed so much better, to the tune of a tiny 4k 60fps video camera churned out with a minute's effort from my nano forge. That would have been too much. This was going to attract enough attention without Garment suddenly having access to movie studio level equipment. The webcam was recognizable as such and gave the production the improvised edge that lent sincerity to this situation.
It was the same reason this had been shot in front of the wall of my apartment rather than in a custom built set inside my workshop. My powers may have been able to assemble the ideal environment for this purpose, but in this case the ideal environment was one that didn't look over-produced. That hadn't stopped Garment from dressing it up slightly with some suspended drapes bordering the shot. They nicely framed the image of Garment as she stood in her evening dress and white opera gloves and waved at the camera. She made some conciliatory gestures that had an apologetic air to them. Then she raised a glove and fabric began to float around her.
I had insisted that she not show her manifestation of any supplies. Explaining the mechanism would get confusing and lead people to believe she could freely produce her materials. It was easier to avoid a misconception than try to correct one.
Even without her spinning cloth out of thin air the display was breathtaking. Everything had been prepared around her so as needed thread and cloth flew up to be integrated into her work with perfect surgical precision. Garment had embraced the opportunity for her debut with a level of flair I had never seen from her before. There were elaborate flourishes, careful placement of materials to create elaborate patterns before they were integrated into the work, and even a certain rhythmic timing to the entire endeavor. It was like watching the seamstress equivalent of a master hibachi chef at work.
It wasn't just flash either. There was a certain pride displayed in what was she doing that you only got from master craftsmen. I could tell the times she slowed down her work to make it clear exactly what was happening, the type of stitch she was using, the paneling, the fabric compositions. It didn't come across perfectly due to the limits of the webcam. The resolution left a lot to be desired as did its ability to change focus. Still both the level of skill at work and the sense of pride in the act was conveyed loud and clear.
Everything came together with the grandeur of an orchestrated finale. Disparate pieces were aligned and joined with perfect seams, details fell into place, and the entire item went from a complex and confusing assembly to a finished piece of clothing in an instant. All the tiny bits of workmanship from the entire process unified into a single beautiful finished product.
Garment had made a jacket. It was one of those formal looking half jacket things that go with evening dresses. There was probably a proper term for it, but I was still largely fashion illiterate. It was white with an elaborate border and embroidery. The sleeves were short enough to not quite reach the tops of Garment's gloves in their opera form and she was able to smoothly slip into the coat. It fit perfectly with the rest of her outfit, matching the color pallet, style, and level of formality.
Most importantly the boarder coloring and embroidery matched the pallet of the PHO forums. It was blatant pandering, but that was exactly the point of this endeavor. PHO wasn't exactly a force in the cape world, but it was an important source of information and a representation of public perception. More than a few news articles pulled directly from the PHO wiki and the forums were largely considered the best feedback medium for the general public. Making a good first impression here would be important if Garment was going to be able to operate as her own cape.
The next part of the video was the important part that would explain this mess. Garment bent down out of frame and picked up one of the spare laptops. I had loaded it with a word processor with large font that was easily visible even with the limitations of the webcam. With great seriousness she began picking through the keyboard for individual keys.
H...E...L...L...O
Garment once again had to search through the keyboard to find the letter L after she had just typed it. After the word was complete she stared at the keyboard, considered things carefully, and then finally found the spacebar. Following that she began typing again.
P...H...O
The level of pride and excitement upon finishing her message was borderline unbelievable. She turned and presented the laptop screen to the camera and enthusiastically waved as the video concluded. So there it was, Garment's debut to cape society. She had beat me out, officially, and I needed to come up with something soon if I didn't want to end up with that greed demon cape name.
This would have repercussions, but I could deal with them. I would deal with them. It was clear she needed more points of contact than I could manage, and operating through what was regarded as the most secure forum in the world was a good place to start.
I felt the Celestial Forge again, this time bringing the Knowledge constellation within reach. The mote I connected with was an odd one. It was a cluster of twelve motes each the size of the smallest ones in the constellation and each representing a different category of information. The entire cluster was called Skills and the one I was able to link to was Physics. It provided an incredible comprehensive understanding of not just conventional physics but high level principles of gravity, matter & energy, and even quantum phenomena.
Like with many of my skills I wondered if some of these high level aspects were actually part of the universe or if they were facilitated by my power. This didn't provide any new technology, but applications of the principles opened up everything from faster than light communication and travel, advanced holography, force fields, weapon systems, instant matter assembly, and even effective teleportation. It would take some work to sort out the engineering, but there was an incredible wealth of potential here.
It also provided a solid grounding in research and analysis. It wasn't just knowledge, it was an understanding of how those principles were discovered and how to analyze new unknown phenomena. That was a boon both to my other technical skills and any efforts for analysis of other technology or parahuman effects.
An announcement from Garment's inbox broke me out of my contemplation, revealing another message from the moderator. I quickly opened it.
Tin_Mother:
Thank you for that sincere and impressive introduction. I do not have the authority to remove all aspects of Garment's ban at this time but I will maintain her access to the Cape Introduction thread. With your permission, and based on her posting history I will open a cape discussion thread in the Brocton Bay Capes board. Also, while there is no obligation and this will not influence your appeal status, I would appreciate it if you could answer some questions about Garment's situation and your relationship with her. Capes in a vulnerable situation, particularly those with non-human features or limitations are often subject to exploitation. It would be beneficial if I could head off any community fears around this subject.
I looked over at Garment. It wasn't a full reversal, but it was something, and probably a path towards getting her access back. Also, the mod seemed to be coming from a place of genuine concern, which was encouraging. At my questioning look Garment gave a gesture of consent and I started drafting a reply.
GarmantGloves:
It's my intention to keep Garment as safe and happy as possible. I would be willing to field any questions that would not compromise her security or privacy.
Tin_Mother:
Thank you. How did you first meet Garment?
Well, I should stick as close to the truth as possible. It's not like weirder things didn't happen in this world.
GarmantGloves:
She appeared outside of where I work. Then she insulted my fashion sense and everything I was wearing.
Garment actually seemed proud of herself when I typed that.
Since then I have tried to provide her with material for her projects and access to safe forms of communication. She is both passionate and highly skilled regarding clothing and fashion principles and I've done my best to facilitate her.
Tin_Mother:
When she appeared did Garment have any level of memory loss? Additionally does she have a mark resembling a stylized U or C anywhere on her body?
She was checking about Case 53s. I remembered reading that actual proper Case 53 capes were much less common than parahumans with altered features, but the terms were used almost interchangeably by the public.
GarmentGloves:
Garment hasn't demonstrated any desire to share information about her past. I don't know if this is related to her memory, communication difficulties, or if it is simply not a concern for her. I am not aware of her having any markings of the type you described or otherwise.
Tin_Mother:
Thank you. Finally, with the skill level she was able to demonstrate there will certainly be people attempting to contact Garment regarding business prospects. Given concerns over exploitation I would like to temporarily block incoming private messages to this account and provide you with some material on guidelines and programs for capes with Rogue classifications.
Additionally, I feel I should ask if you believe you are able to provide the necessary support for Garment given the issues she has demonstrated. I can put you in contact with organizations specializing in assistance for parahumans in similar situations.
Well, it was nice of her not to come out and accuse me of taking advantage of Garment. Still, independent operation and Rogue status would be a good fit for Garment, and there would be a flood of PMs for any confirmed cape. I should take her up on the first offer at least.
GarmentGloves:
I believe it would be good to block PMs until Garment has established a plan for how she wishes to proceed with her cape status and business policies. I will be working with Garment to address the issues that led to tonight's misunderstanding and don't believe any additional support will be necessary, but thank you for your offer.
Tin_Mother:
Acknowledged. Please contact me if you need any support. I will be happy to direct you to the relevant agencies and organizations.
I leaned back and let out a breath. Beside me Garment was a mixture of excitement and apprehension.
"I think it will be alright. PHO loves cape interactions. They'll definitely roll back the restrictions once this gets out. We just have to give them some time."
I failed to suppress a yawn as Garment made anxious gestures towards the computer. That reminded me.
"Let me see what I can do with this laptop. There's no reason for you to be stuck with a retail model anymore."
Once again I was struck between being objectively impressed by the technological advancement of my upgrades and how frustrating it was to be unable to build what I knew I was capable of, instead reduced to realigning human computational frameworks.
Okay, that's it. I'm starting that jar retroactively. Four quarters in it and maybe then I'll be able to get a handle on this.
The point was that despite the quality of what I could build I was still working with technological architecture of a conventional nature, the species which built that technology not being relevant to this line of thinking. Shifting to optical processing would be a big step up, particularly with what my latest batch of knowledge allowed me to do with isolinear circuitry. The problem was none of that would directly interface with the technology what-is-common-in-this-world so I'd have to build everything from scratch. The best option would be working with multidimensional processors, but that wasn't possible without at least trace amounts of cybertonium for key junctions.
At this point I couldn't even build a proper datatrax. The new laptop's storage drive could barely hold half a petabyte of rapid access flash memory, and that wasn't even getting into the compromises I'd had to make in terms of processing power or battery life. I was able to make up for some of it with hybridization builds, but I honestly felt bad handing this over.
Garment had been waiting patiently as I worked, doing her best to conceal her anxiety over the situation in general and her laptop in particular. The forge missed another connection to the Knowledge constellation as I put the finishing design touches on the computer. Bling of War let me personalize it to Garment's style and Decadence ensured the workmanship was impeccable. Her reaction to the engraved and filigreed computer casing was the most positive I'd seen since this mess began.
Now came the hard part, attempting to give Garment a typing lesson. I started with basic finger placement and a keyboard guide, but that got nowhere. She would still check each letter before typing it and seemed to have trouble remembering placements with respect to her fingers. Online typing guides and mnemonic devices proved useless and just resulted in frustration as Garment struggled to decipher them.
That was when I decided to get creative. Unfortunately creative doesn't mean effective. I thought I was being clever with the modified keyboard that had cloth swatches on the keys for telekinetic manipulation. All that resulted in was avoiding the time for the key to be pressed by a glove instead of telekinesis. The search time was exactly as bad. I didn't understand how she could read language and understand speech but had so much trouble with writing. Then again I had no idea how she sensed the world or what her thought process was like. The results of these efforts were proving there was a much more significant barrier than I had anticipated.
The cloth type keyboard didn't help. A color coded keyboard didn't help. A customized alphabetical layout didn't help. I was about ready to try putting together some kind of visual alphabet like you find on the walls of a kindergarten, only with fashion concepts instead of pictures of farm animals when I realized I'd been approaching this the wrong way.
I could try to work with Garment to overcome whatever was causing this through her own effort and with supporting equipment, but what she really needed was help. The easiest thing to set up would be an autocomplete, but those could easily go wrong and I didn't ever want to risk a repeat of tonight. She needed an assistant and fortunately I had just began development of a data management program.
The laptop was cobbled together crap, but it should be able to run a truncated fork of my data management and survey program. It would have the benefit of allowing development in linguistic skills while providing more support than any autocomplete would be capable of. Anyway, Garment deserved an assistant.
I left Garment to admire the aesthetics of her laptop and moved to my computational throne. Once again the world fell away and I was part of the computer system. I reached out to the partition where my Survey and Fleet programs were engaged in their optimization and development routine and opened my mind to it.
Suddenly I was standing by a river on a bright summer day. I could feel the humidity in the air, the slight breeze blowing off the water, and the sunlight dappled between occasional clouds. In the distance the iconic shape of the Eifel tower rose over the city of Paris. I could see boats on the river and pedestrians milling around, taking in the weather. And in the distance the beginning of a symphony of engine sounds.
An entire pack of vehicles peeled past me at clearly unsafe speeds. It was a mix of sports cars, roadsters, six types of motorcycles and what looked like a small hovercraft trailing behind. They wove around each other and the obstacles of the road in a bid to claim the lead before swerving down a side street leaving nothing but the sounds of their engines and the screech of tires.
I pulled back from the surface level of the simulation and examined the code beneath it. Fleet was simultaneously piloting multiple vehicles through an environment being generated in real time by Survey. The entire city wasn't modeled, just areas relevant to the track with the visuals of the rest of the landscape approximated based on internet research and iterative simulations. Factors like road surface, visibility, directional glare, air resistance, even wind and humidity were being calculated. From Fleets side the program was simulating multiple vehicles at the same time while also piloting them through the course and responding to changes in conditions. It looked like the different vehicles were approximated from available specifications with their performance extrapolated using the data from the day's drive.
Both programs were working in competition, but were also collaborating to a greater deal than I expected. Pretty much the full sensor records of the day being used as a true to life reference point for the simulations. The programs weren't really advanced enough to express any agency, but there was a desire for more practical data in order to improve their simulation development. I provided them with a timeline for the next probable excursions and some commentary on their simulation records, which already included a half dozen cities and six times as many vehicles.
The development was impressive, but it would soon reach the limit of their processing capabilities and be reduced to optimization cycles. That was regrettably by design since unrestrained A.I. was one of the biggest black list technologies out there. If it didn't bring down the Protectorate on my head it could easily draw the attention of the Endbringers. It meant I would have to do staged upgrades and guide both development and any copies to be generated rather than allow them free agency. At this point it was barely a concern as both programs were too primitive to handle anything beyond their initial parameters, and just barely that.
Still, the Survey program was functioning well and would be able to assist Garment much better than any level of autocorrect. I adjusted the objectives and created a truncated copy running in parallel with an update link to the core program. After a final review I disconnected from the interface and went to check on Garment.
She was idly playing with the assorted pieces of my planned costume redesign. With everything that had happened our joint project had completely slipped my mind. I made a note to make sure to follow up with that assembly but focused on introducing Garment to the new interface. There was still a bit of work to that. Survey had access to her entire posting history, including Youtube, Twitter, and PHO. Upon the first letter typed the program was able to start making suggestions. Unfortunately Garment had a bit of trouble indicating when the suggestion was correct. I ended up adding an extra button to the computer solely for the purpose of signaling the survey program. I watched Garment work on the new system. It was still painfully slow to start, but at least she didn't need to type the entire word before Survey was able to narrow down what she was going for.
I quickly checked PHO. The ban was still in place with the exception of the introductory thread. Despite the stupid hour that post had already seen some traffic.
"Alright, you should be safe sticking with this thread. Be careful and see how things go. I'm going to get some sleep."
Garment made a series of grateful gestures and waved me off as I left the Workshop to try to get some rest. When I opened the door to the entry way I saw that Garment had returned my mattress to the floor. I also saw that she had assembled a complete set of new bedlinens, pillows, and comforters that looked like they would be more appropriate in an imperial court. The opulence was in stark contrast with the fact that the entire assembly was sitting flat on the floor without even a bedframe holding it up.
I glanced back at Garment who broke her attention from the computer to make shooing gestures towards me. With a sigh I got changed and slipped into bed. The new sheets were smooth and unbelievably comfortable. It was like being embraced by clouds and I felt kinks in my back I had barely been aware of, likely the result of hours on that interface throne, begin to unspool themselves. The stress was just melting off me and I could feel the fog of blissful sleep settle over my mind.
Which was exactly when my watch alarm went off, signaling the time for my morning run.
I considered a lot of things as I lay in bed with my watch buzzing at me. I considered if my earlier commitment to an exercise routine was that well placed. I considered if this cape business was actually worth the trouble if it resulted in what was now three six o'clocks in the same day. I considered the existence of Noctus capes and the massive injustice they represented. I considered the various theoretical temporal manipulation technologies I was now aware of and whether a few extra hours of sleep on demand would be worth risking irreparable damage to the space time continuum. In my current mindset I was leaning heavily towards a yes on that last question.
Eventually the strength of routine overwhelmed all other objections and I peeled myself out of bed and into my workout clothes. Coffee, toast, run. The coffee and toast part took longer than it should have and involved considerably more coffee, but I got myself out the door.
I made it half way down the steps when I realized I had left my workshop open. Well, it wasn't that bad. Garment was there and I at least trusted Fleet to be able to intercept intruders at this point. Also the chances of a break in were fairly low given the look of the apartment and the presence of better targets in literally every direction. If I had sealed the workshop that would have cut off network access to everyone inside, meaning Garment would have had to move to the apartment and Fleet and Survey would lose access to reference data. It should be fine as long as I made this run fast.
That was actually the deciding factor in why I had chosen to stick to my schedule. I needed reference data for what my nanites did when I triggered a mass activation for transfer. Mass activations for transfers like the ones I'd forgotten to do through the night and before I left. Needed to watch out for that. It would be hard enough to assemble that nanite colony even if I adhered to a perfect schedule. Miss too many and that week could easily turn into months of work.
In order to get a good sense of how the nanites treated damage due to exercise I needed to perform an activation under a scanner following the harshest workout I could manage. That was why I was abandoning my usually measured pace in exchange for a speed usually reserved for cases of pursuit by large carnivorous predators. In short I was booking it like my life depended on it.
It nicely set me apart from all the happy Saturday joggers who looked so thrilled to be out in the stabbing sunlight of the hour of the damned. I don't like this time of day when I see it from the front. Coming at it from the back adds a whole other element of disgust. Thankfully my desperate blitz of a pace blew past the casual morning canter of those mad people.
I deliberately ignored any claps or cheers of approval that came my way. I don't need the endorsement of anyone who endures this time of day by choice.
I maintained the pace along the road to the bay, for the north leg of the Boardwalk, and nearly back to the midpoint before I crashed badly. It snuck up on me, but suddenly there was just nothing left in the tank. That ended with me half collapsed on a bench, soaked with sweat, and panting like my life depended on it.
Despite the less than noble posture it seemed if you were wearing nice workout clothes you were allowed to lounge on the Boardwalk while trying to figure out if your lugs had actually exploded, or just felt like they did. I even got some more of those encouraging looks from the early morning joggers. God I hated them. Stop being friendly! I'm not one of you!
It turned out to be something of a blessing that I was sitting down because the Celestial Forge circled around again, once again bringing the Size constellation into reach. My power connected to a similar mote to my previous one, but this was only two motes clustered rather than twelve. I had enough reach to secure connections with both of them at which point I found out exactly what they were and was very glad that I had not been sprinting at a mad pace when this hit me.
Certain motes had a kind of similar feel to them. For instance, any motes clustered together had a similar association. It was less common, but there were motes that weren't connected that had a sense of familiarity. Fingers of Silver and Bling of War had some association, but I had no idea what it was. My latest power had a similar relationship, but the nature of it was blindingly obvious.
The motes were called Science! Mechanics and Science! Engineering and they were the same kind of power as Master Builder. Where that power had been a civilization's worth of technology these two contained the theory and principles behind it. With these two powers I had a crazy mechanical society's equivalent of a PhD in both topics. The raw information had been hard to deal with. This power brought insight, nuance, and experience. There was less information but it was so much richer that I had to struggle to keep my mind straight. It made me long for the feeling of my neural interface and the sensation was made so much worse by the way my legs and lungs were currently screaming at me.
I did my best to push aside the perspectives that were making my current existence an unfamiliar sensation and focused on what I would be able to do with these powers. Master Builder had been an incredible ability, but I was limited to the applications of technology as it presented them. My new abilities gave insight into the theory and development behind that technology. I could actually come up with workarounds for some of the obstacles and resource constraints I'd been suffering under. It would be enough for me to develop my own new branch of applications rather than use standard configurations or jury rigged human technology.
Okay, not that I needed reminding here, but that's five quarters total for the jar. I committed to set it up as soon as I got back and worked to pull myself off the bench. Despite the difficult mental state I managed a stable jogging pace on the way back to my apartment. As I ran I reviewed the mental shifts I was dealing with. Previously I had danced around this issue with terms like inhuman mindset or mechanical perspective, but at this point there was no reason to be coy. This shit had come from robots.
I had the technology and science of an entire civilization of space age robots floating through my head. I didn't really know what to make of that. This was a serious step away from just having an abnormal tinker power. It was full on alien conspiracy stuff. Between the Celestial Forge and the reality of multiple universes that we all lived with it shouldn't be that hard to believe, but there's a big difference between something as a concept and having that something as part of your own personal experience. I did my best to hold on to the mantra of the Celestial Forge. Fiat backed. It just works. That would be a lot easier to accept if I wasn't trying to parse personal lived experience of a robotic existence at the moment.
I made it back to my apartment drenched in a layer of sweat that wasn't entirely due to the intensity of my workout. The first thing I did was dig out an old jar, currently holding various pens and small knickknacks. I dumped them into a random drawer and set the jar on the counter of the kitchenette. This might be an empty gesture, but I needed to keep an eye on this thing. One after another five quarters dropped into the jar. The act actually made me feel a little better about the whole situation.
I hoped I wouldn't run into any powers in the forge with worse mental effects than this, but some of those motes were terrifyingly powerful. Something that strong acting directly on my mind would have a serious impact no matter what my hopes were. I just had to deal with it. Already the new information was becoming less distracting. I didn't know about long term effects, but that's what the jar was for. That's right, I might have a cosmic power warping my mind in a way I couldn't control or understand, but I also have a jar of coins!
Sarcasm is damn essential for stress management and anyone who says otherwise is a filthy liar.
Before I moved to the Laboratorium to carry out the point of this whole endeavor I went to check on Garment. She was still typing on her laptop in the workshop, only now she would type two or three letters, check the screen, then press the approve button. It wasn't that much of an improvement, but it probably more than doubled her typing speed.
She jumped up when I entered and gestured me over. From the look of things she was alternating between her introduction thread on PHO and her twitter account, which had picked up a few hundred followers in the time I'd been gone. She excitedly directed me to a personal message announcing that her ban was under review and she should expect an update later in the day. Her account currently had an Unverified Cape tag on it, but another message explained that was tied to forum policies regarding public appearances.
Her discussion thread also seemed to be picking up steam. I checked on the first page.
♦ Topic: Garment Discussion Thread
In: Boards ► Places ► America ► Brocton Bay ► Capes ►
Tin_Mother (Original Poster) (Moderator)
Posted On Apr 16th 2011:
In response to the recent announcement post I have created this thread for discussion of the newly debuted cape, Garment. Confirmation efforts are still ongoing, but there is sufficient confidence in the details that have been provided to staff to justify opening this thread.
(Showing page 1 of 23)
►SackBagger
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
Fake
►Great_Divide (Veteran Member)
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
Who the hell would put that level of effort into faking a webcam quality video?
► SackBagger
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
Ploy to get people to buy into it. You can tell by the reflections, the whole thing is CGI.
►Tumbles
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
Isn't that the guy that was trolling boards all night?
►Noddy
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
Girl, by the looks of things.
► SackBagger
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
Neither, it's a fake.
►Great_Divide (Veteran Member)
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
So your theory is someone joined the forum, trolled in a very specific way in order to get banned, reached out to the mods for a single thread exception and then posted a specifically prepared video with what would take thousands of dollars in CGI all for the purposes of deceiving a bunch of cape forum yahoos?
This thread came from a mod and required a ban exemption for the post to be made. Something has happened behind the scenes here that's more complicated than someone pulling a lame prank.
►Forgotten Specter
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
Cape Forum Yahoos Represent!
Seriously though, shouldn't it be Garment Gloves? Garmentgloves? How is that supposed to go?
►Great_Divide (Veteran Member)
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
Garment comes from the Mod, so I'm guessing that's the cape name? Could be difference between screen name and hero name, or even first name last name. There's clearly been some PMs going on here.
End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 21, 22, 23
Rather than dig through twenty pages of similar material just I jumped to the end.
(Showing page 23 of 23)
►RowOver
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
Holy Shit, Invisible Fashion Cape!
►BB_Fashionista
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
God, read the previous posts. It's not invisibility. At 2:34 you can see a piece of lint moving through where her head and body would be. It's either selective intangibility or some kind of telekinetic projection.
►Asian_American_Doll
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
It's probably Parian. She's just doing everything from off camera.
►BB_Fashionista
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
For fuck sake, not this again. For the hundredth time there's no way this is Parian. Parian doesn't make bias cut evening dresses in a modernization of Madeleine Vionnet's 1930's style. Parian hasn't touched bias cut since her first attempt got panned during New York Fashion Week back in September 2009. I don't know if you ever watched one of Parian streams but their techniques are completely different. The embroidery alone should tell you that.
I'm sick and tired of making this point. But maybe your right, Maybe Parian decided to create a new online identity and coordinate postings at the same time she was guest co-hosting on the Fashion East-North-East podcast. Maybe she set all this up, the ban, the mod appeal, the new identity despite the fact that it's grounds for having your main account suspended, because it's not like forum rules apply to capes. Maybe she did all this to premiere an actual innovative style and show she's finally moving in a new direction.
If seriously she did all that I could totally forgive her for the fact that her fall 2010 line was just the second bustle era with shorter hemlines and no color sense, but somehow I doubt it.
►Asian_American_Doll
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
God damn, can anyone on this forum mention Parian without BB_Fashionista having to write an essay in response? And you're crazy. The fall 2010 line was her best work to date and it's sad that you can't see that.
►Dingo_Day
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
Guys, we're getting off topic. Can we talk about how crazy it is that Brockton Bay has more than one telekinetic fashion cape? What do they put in the water up there?
►BB_Fashionista
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
We certainly have more than one telekinetic cape, I'll give you that.
►Asian_American_Doll
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
Ladies and gentleman, a cheap shot from BB_Fashionista that doesn't read like they're being paid by the word. Will wonders never cease?
►Tin_Mother (Moderator)
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
I'm getting tired of saying this, but move the Parian discussion to her own thread or take it to PMs. There will be no more warnings.
End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 21, 22, 23
Well, that got more heated than I anticipated, but cape debates are inevitable and have a tendency to fly off the rails. I quickly skimmed Garment's introduction thread. Fortunately with the video out there people seemed to be taking her one word replies in good humor. They weren't getting much detail, but anyone who complained about it got shouted down pretty fast. It was incredible how quickly the tone of a site changed, or at least the tone of the members willing to post on a cape's introduction thread.
I felt the Celestial Forge again and braced myself. Getting caught up on Garment's reception had nicely distracted me from the impact of my last power, but now everything was flooding back to me. As I watched the approaching constellation most of my concerns vanished. Toolkits. The constellation that had given me my workshop and Laboratorium. I didn't know how many workshop upgrades were in there as opposed to actual toolkits, but I was desperate for more work space. The only disheartening thing was how short my reach was after securing the last two powers.
Fortunately I managed to connect with something. Unfortunately it was the smallest mote in the constellation, possibly the smallest in the entire Celestial Forge. It was actually two motes, not related in any way, just bunched up to look like a normal mote. The toolkit constellation had finally given me some tools.
The first mote was called Diagnostic Tools. To my understanding it was a small set of scanners connected to a display screen that allowed diagnostic work on both simple and advanced technology. Nowhere near as good as my Laboratorium but infinitely more portable. I would have to examine it to determine the exact limits and how well it compared, but it presented opportunities in the field I just didn't have before and might even allow rapid, if superficial, analysis of tinker tech.
The second item was called Micromanipulators. These were a set of mechanical gloves that allowed precision work to the level a single micron. While I had been working a thousand times finer than that in my nanoforge these would let me extend high precision to every task I undertook, even those outside of a crafting and research environment. Once again, the limits and potential could only be guessed at before I had a chance to examine them, and unfortunately I had more pressing concerns.
"I've got to run some tests in the Laboratorium. Are you alright here?"
Garment gave me an affirmative gesture and bid me farewell. As a pleasant surprise so did the copy of Survey running on the laptop. It was an impressive amount of development, though dealing with forum posts would likely do that. I would need to spend more time monitoring both programs in the neural interface, but that was on a long list of projects I was working to tackle.
I did take enough time to check on the new arrivals. A pair of new lockers had been added to the entry way. One had a nearly industrial look to it and swung open to reveal a flat screen the size of my palm. There were various ports with cables attached to them that led to an array of scanners and probes. I would need to take a closer look to get a sense of the range and level of detail of its scans.
The next locker was sleek and futuristic, just a white metal panel recessed into the wall. Rather than swing open the panel slid apart with a smooth hydraulic motion. Inside were stands holding a pair of mechanical gloves that would extend to the elbow when worn. There was a dark layer of some synthetic material covered with metallic structures that looked almost skeletal. Around the wrists, knuckles, and elbows were bulges representing the clusters of precise servos and artificial muscles that provided the level of precision that the gloves were capable of. Once again, incredibly useful, but a project for later. The longer I left this examination the less accurate the data would be.
Actually, if I was being examined I'd need someone else to operate the scanner. I didn't want to tear Garment away from her laptop and frankly given her skill with a conventional keyboard I didn't trust her to operate a gothic computer shrine. Fleet had shown serious improvements and should be able to manage a basic series of operations at this point. I guided him out of the workshop and through the door to the Laboratorium.
I knew my Laboratorium didn't like magic. I knew my Laboratorium didn't like alien lifeforms. At this point I should be used to the idea of my Laboratorium randomly freaking out over stuff brought into it. Despite that I wasn't prepared for every skull in the cathedral sized room to start convulsing at the site of my motoroid walking inside.
Apparently the systems in the Laboratorium took issues with robots. Well, specifically artificially intelligent robots, or as the computers insisted on calling them, Abominable Intelligences. It was a level of panic I couldn't even override. Every computer in the room was going into lockdown and cutting itself off from connections like it was about to be infected by some invisible plague. Only the skulls remained operational and they were definitely not happy.
I couldn't understand it. I knew there were the equivalences of A.I. in some of the Laboratorium's systems. Ok, they were referred to as machine spirits, but they were a lot more advanced than Fleet. Why were they acceptable and not my driving program?
I had to dig into the documentation to figure out what was going on. By that I mean actual paper documentation. I didn't even know that existed, but apparently there was a hardcopy reference library included with the lab. The shelves were just usually covered with a series of murals depicting nine figures posing in heavy armor with advanced weapons. Eight men of various levels of gruffness, their armor a spectrum of colors, and one beautifully depicted woman with angel wings and golden armor. The entire assembly slid open to reveal a density of literature I hadn't encountered since the hell that was my second year engineering research project.
Fortunately the reference library had its own set of skulls. There was something about them that just conveyed a sense of librarian. There's a certain aura to that profession that can't be dispelled even when reduced to a skinless head suspended on a coil of servo cables. They somehow managed to convey both annoyance and helpfulness at the same time as they directed me to a volume that would put phone books to shame. Luckily they were also able to direct me to the relevant section.
In short, in order to get the place out of lockdown I needed to confirm the limits of the program's development to ensure that it was an upstanding automaton rather than some renegade A.I. out to devour all innocent circuitry that crossed its path. By the way, that was a direct quote. That task could be accomplished by verification of the programs resources, parameters, and hardware through an isolated terminal. Once that was passed I had to move on to the induction process.
Just to getting the green light from the analysis wasn't enough to appease my lab systems. No, there needed to be a specific ceremony before they would accept my motoroid's presence. Which is why I was watching a skull reverently attach a wax seal to a strip of inscribed parchment and mount it to my robot's chassis. It seemed like pointless showmanship, but once the blob of wax was stamped with that image of a two headed eagle every system in the room immediately relaxed. It was a seemingly arbitrary requirement and while I was worried about running into any more of these limitations I wasn't going to trudge through that entire library trying to figure out the arcane procedures for this place. Not until Bakuda was no longer a threat.
With the seal in place the skulls were more than happy to assist Fleet in operation of the Laboratorium's systems. I stood in one of the larger bays and ran a full activation of nanites as the scanners spun around me. The faint blue glow of the circuitry lines contrasted sharply with the eerie gloom of the room's ambient lighting. I ignored everything around me and focused on the effects of the activation.
The burning in my legs vanished almost immediately. The physical edge of my fatigue went along with it, though I was still mentally exhausted. I felt energy return to me as the machines worked. It was almost as if the effects of the run were being erased, which was actually my concern.
When I stopped noticing any more changes I let the nanites stand down and checked the sensor readings. There was a chance that I had just wiped out all the benefits of my morning exercise. If that was the case nanite extraction would get complicated and probably be limited to a single burst on rest days. Fortunately that couldn't be further from the case.
I scrolled through the sensor data and watched the work of the nanites. Given how advanced they were I shouldn't have been surprised, but it was still impressive to watch. They weren't just fixing damage, they were extrapolating natural recovery, including the benefits of exercise. The effects weren't being erased, they were being accelerated. I could probably do a week's worth of high intensity workouts in a single day, break them up with nanite repair sessions, and immediately get the full benefit of the exercise. It effectively truncated my training program.
There was also an alert from the historic analysis of the Laboratorium. It seemed the sensors had recorded a related phenomenon earlier. I drew up the record and immediately recognized the potential.
Life Fibers.
My brief contact with life fibers had been recorded by the Laboratorium's sensors. The manner in which they stressed the body was connected with my post workout condition. Essentially contact with life fibers counted as serious strain on the body's systems, but in a generally non-damaging way. With standard recovery periods it could function as accelerated physical conditioning. Except with my nanites I could reduce the recovery period to mere minutes. Repeated life fiber exposure could quickly bring me to peak human condition, potentially further given the symbiotic enhancement the fibers were capable of. I wouldn't even need to used them in the field, they could be my training regimen and condense weeks or months of work down to hours.
I suppressed a yawn as I considered the implications. There would be no more morning runs. I wouldn't have to bother with weight training. That planned calisthenics program could be abandoned. I'd have no need to run early in the day. Without having to carefully monitor my nutrition I could eat normally, saving time and money. I could abandon the planned expansions of my conditioning program. I wouldn't have to wake up early to fit cardio training into my schedule. I would have more desperately needed time for tinkering. I would be able to sleep in.
I looked to the stasis field where the spool of life fibers was suspended and started considering the best experimental procedure for this project. Fleet would be essential since robots didn't have any biology that would trigger or attract the fibers. With that I'd be able to devise a system of controlled exposure. If it worked the way the scans suggested then I'd be able to create a regime of brief exposure and recovery that would completely take the place of all of my physical development work.
When I had completed my preparations the final apparatus involved both myself and the motoroid in one of the larger bays with continually active sensors. The spool was locked down in an improvised vice with a carefully controlled length of life fibers strung between the robot's arms like a cat's cradle. It would provide a large area of contact while still being controlled enough to facilitate an abort if needed. I was preparing for contact using my forearm while ready for retreat in the event of any mishaps. The fibers had been completely inert during the setup procedure, but I remembered how they moved the last time I experimented with them.
The Celestial Forge missed a connection with the Magic constellation just as I was finishing preparations. I stifled a yawn and shook the cobwebs out of my head. Nanites were great for physical refreshment, but that did precisely jack for my mental state. I should probably get some sleep after this experiment was complete.
I considered my safety procedures. I had gotten my hyper alloy shin guard, so in the event of any kind of breach I would be safe until I can contain the fibers. I doubt that will be a problem since they're being restrained by my motoroid who's made of the same stuff. My nanites should be able to mitigate any bodily effects from contact with the life fibers. In an emergency the bay's stasis field controls were within arm's reach. The narrow field configuration would catch the motoroid but also immobilize the fibers.
I braced myself, checked the scanner inputs, and laid the back of my forearm against the mesh of fibers. The glow that burst from them dwarfed the emission seen during the previous experiment. It was actually painful to look at, but that was nothing compared to the feeling of power extending up my arm and into my body. It was electrifying and overwhelmed my senses.
That was probably why I didn't register the creak of metal until it was too late. There was a wrenching crash as the fibers snapped together, tearing the motoroid's limbs apart and ensnaring my entire arm. The sensation of energy and power I'd been struggling elevated to insane levels as they wrapped around me. With my entangled state the stasis controls were out of reach. Even if I could activate them they would do nothing to the portion of the fibers that had pulled away from the spool. I heard a warning beep from the terminal's biometrics and channeled all my focus to the activation of my nanites.
Blue lines clashed with red as more and more of the thread spun its way around my body, knocking me to the ground. Fleet struggled futilely with the shattered remains of the motoroid's arms in an effort to keep the spool contained. Even if the motoroid form wasn't crippled it was doubtful anything could be accomplished against them. The level of restraint necessary had been badly miscalculated. My analysis had been of the fibers in their dormant state. They were an entirely different beast when connected to a host.
The restoration effect of my nanites proved to be a double edged sword. It was preventing any serious harm from being caused by the fibers, but also creating an essentially infinite feast for the creature that had been trapped in hibernation for Lord knows how long. The result was a level of activity that dwarfed the reactions seen before and eclipsed even my most aggressive estimates. Steam started to fill the examination bay as sweat began to boil off my skin. My exercise clothing began to singe under the fibers grip, its enhanced durability no match for the exotic energies they were putting out. Anywhere fibers touched skin they glowed like a magnesium flare, sending waves of power through my muscles, but they were still useless against the strength of the threads. My body felt hot and cold and electrified all at the same time. Flesh bulged around the fibers as they pulled against both the strength of my reinforcement and the restorative power of my nanites.
The nanites were the only thing letting me survive this mess. Theoretically I could last as long as they held out, which thanks to their flagrant disregard for conservation of energy and mass would be until I could no longer direct them. So I was trapped here until I passed out at which point the fibers would drain me dry.
This had been a bad idea. It was inevitable really. No good ideas happened after 3:00am. I knew that before I got my powers, but it was only more evident now. Post-3:00am thinking had decided giving magic weapons to a teenage super villain was a great idea. Now post-3:00am thinking was responsible for an experiment with an alien parasite that amounted to sticking my arm into it to see what would happen. I needed to get serious about my sleep commitments if I was going to have any chance of surviving this cape thing.
My options for survival in the current situation weren't exactly plentiful, but I had one hope. In a desperate bid I attempted to stretch the limits of my nanite control and reached out to the fibers entrapping me.
It was similar to my healing effect, but much more directed. When I said the fibers were impossibly thin I wasn't kidding. The individual cells had a diameter that was barely recognizable on the nano scale. There was also an immediate restorative effect, so even if I could directly damage them with my nanites it would be instantly healed. But by propagating nanites through the structure of the fibers I could feel out the mass, including the complex energy discharges that passed for its cognitive processes. It took some work, but I was able to get a rough sense of what it was thinking, sort of.
Everything was instinctual, which was probably why I was able to piece it together. Any more complex thoughts would have been completely opaque. The drives were basic in the extreme. Connect. Feed. Grow. I couldn't do anything about the first or last directive, but I extended my nanites and focused on the restorative effects I'd theorized about with my own healing.
The tiny machines flowed between the fibers and worked to supplement the energy flows they were pulling from my body. It didn't loosen the grip, but the overwhelming surges of power flowing to and from my body dropped off and I could feel my head clear slightly. I got a sense of what might have been satisfaction from the fibers. It was difficult to understand and I wasn't sure they were complex enough for emotional reactions, or even capable of such. Still, the current situation had definitely dropped the level of aggression I was experiencing.
It struck me again just how complicated this creature was. It was obviously sentient and had the potential to become sapient. It had its own drives and desires and the capacity for both restraint and, theoretically, reason. If it developed enough communication might just be a possibility. Of course, that relied on me being able to get out of this mess without being devoured.
Suddenly, miraculously, the life fibers pulled themselves off my skin. I watched in amazement as the entire mass uncoiled itself from my body and lifted into the air. It still glowed faintly, but nothing like the blinding radiance from before. As it departed I felt the tumultuous energy go with it, leaving me panting and exhausted, but finally safe. I lay on the floor staring at the floating assembly of thread and wondered just what had brought my salvation. Then I saw the white gloves.
"Garment?"
I twisted to see Garment's form standing by the scanning bay gesturing casually at the massive alien parasite. The insane strength of the fibers seemed completely irrelevant to Garment's telekinesis as she absentmindedly examined the hovering creature. It appeared that it didn't matter what kind of force something could bring to bear. If it counted as sewing materials Garment could handle it.
"Garment." I panted and struggled to pull myself to my feet. She reached down to gently help me up without as much as a tremble from the contained fibers. "Garment, thank you." I glanced around. "How did you know what was happening?"
She gestured to the motoroid and then to her laptop, which was now sitting on one of the computer altars. Fleet and Survey. Of course they would be in communication. This was an excellent sign for their development. I really needed to check on that. I'd check later. Boy I was tired.
One of the skulls was reverently affixing a wax seal and scrap of parchment to the laptop's case while Fleet looked on with what could be construed as pride. Yes that was good. Seriously, I was really, really tired.
"Thank you Garment. That was very good. Uh, be careful with those. Fleet knows where they go." I looked at the damaged motoroid. I would have to fix that as well. Huh, I wonder if I would be able to stand on my own without Garment's support. Ok, that's a nope, definitely not happening. Thank you Garment. Nice catch.
"The fibers are important. If you could help me with them they could do a lot of good." She made a dismissive gesture of consent before pointing out my current state. The fibers had managed to burn dozens of lines through my workout clothes reducing them to shreds. The nanites had kept my body from ending up in a similar state, but weren't able to counter all of the effects from removing the fibers. My brain felt like a lead brick.
"Right, I need to deal with that. And a bunch of other stuff. I'll get to it." I felt my eyelids droop. "I'm just going to take a little nap first." And with that the Laboratorium and everyone in it faded from my senses as darkness swallowed me.
Jumpchain abilities this chapter:
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.
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.
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.
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.
I might have signed up for an argument with forum mods at an hour so late it might technically count as early, but seeing Garment literally pull herself together in response made it worth the trouble. I just had to figure out how she had managed to cause this many problems in a few hours.
As I loaded her posting history I felt the Celestial Forge pull the Vehicle constellation towards me and connect to one of the smaller motes called Fingers of Silver. It was essentially reverse engineering on steroids and would let me understand and copy the inner workings of any technology I could get my hands on. Well, provided it was actual technology and not something facilitated by parahuman powers. More advanced tinker tech would be difficult to analyze, but with my other technical powers and my Laboratorium it would be considerably easier.
That was something to deal with later. For now I had to try to sort out this mess. I started by looking through Garments posting history. There was a lot of it. It looked like she had been posting pretty much continuously since I had set up the account. There was a delay between posts, but that seemed to be based on typing speed and her ability to find content and navigate between forums. Other than that she just hadn't stopped.
Looking at some of her earlier posts they seemed to be met with bemusement and the odd positive comment or question. The problems started when she began posting on more active forums or people tried to engage her directly. PHO was a great site, but the quote/reply set up wasn't as good as it could have been. On an active thread someone would question Garment, then there would be a half dozen posts before she would be able to reply. This led to the reply being misconstrued, which would lead to Garment correcting herself, once again after a pile of posts that changed the tone of the conversation and turned would have been a fairly reasonable reply to something either nonsensical or provocative.
Things got worse in private messages. Garment did not like using more than one word replies, so when people started messaging her directly the conversations usually went badly. Early stuff seemed lighthearted enough with people engaging on fashion topics and asking for single word evaluations, but when people started with serious questions and just got the same there were a few meltdowns, both in her PMs and in the threads.
That was around the time the warnings started. There were accusations of her being a bot or just trolling, and her efforts to counter them were as hampered as any other part of her communication. Eventually the mods stepped in. She had actually gotten some people riled up to the point where threads were locked or specific rules were put in place. Following that there were direct messages that she hadn't been able to answer sufficiently, followed by the ban.
It was exactly the kind of shit storm I had been worried about, though Garment had managed to pull it off in record time. I felt a little guilty since I had been dead to the world while Garment had been trying desperately to defend herself. Also I had been fully merged with a computer at the time. I had at least passive awareness that Garment was still posting, but I hadn't paid attention to exactly what was happening. It wasn't a question of respecting privacy, I had dumped her into the deep end and left her to sink upon her failure to swim.
The worst part was knowing there was a good chance I wouldn't be able to patch this up. I didn't have a lot of experience with online forums but I knew this kind of thing was pretty much poison for a new member. At this point anyone who didn't think she was a bot probably assumed she was trolling the board with a disposable account.
I looked over at Garment's nervous movements. She was actually wringing her gloves as she watched me go through her posting history. I gave her the most reassuring smile I could manage and started typing in the reply field.
GarmentGloves:
Hello, this is Garment's friend. I want to express her apology for what happened on the forum. Garment has significant communication difficulties and didn't intend to cause any disruption. I have reviewed her posting history and I believe she was sincerely trying to follow the forum guidelines and moderator instructions but was unable to effectively convey her intent.
I helped Garment set up her account earlier tonight and did not check on her until she informed me of the current situation. I should have been more attentive of her actions to prevent something like this from happening so I would like to offer my own apology as well.
This forum and online interaction has become a very important outlet for Garment. She was extremely distraught by the sudden suspension and the permanent ban from topics she is passionate about. If there is any way to alleviate the restrictions I assure you I will work with Garment to help ensure there is no repeat of tonight's events. Thank you for your consideration.
P.S. The following message is all Garment was able to compose before she came to me for help.
I M SORRY
I couldn't bring myself to delete Garment's typing. I just hope it doesn't come across as manipulative. With the message sent I sat with Garment as we watched her inbox. I had heard about how vigilant the mods on this forum are, so there was a good chance of getting a ruling even this late at night. The fact that they had consolidated so many violations against Garment rather than leave things for a later ruling shows that.
Sitting there refreshing the page made the minutes seem like hours. Finally a message appeared in the inbox. Garment froze in anticipation as I loaded it.
Tin_Mother:
Thank you for your sincere appeal. I would like to express my sympathy for your situation. Unfortunately given the number of complaints filed and a lack of supporting evidence I have no choice but to uphold the ban. Upon the end of the two week period I will be willing to revisit the possibility of access to some of the permanently banned boards subject to moderator review.
I let out a breath. That was about as bad as I feared. Garment slumped beside me, almost deflating. I skimmed through the list of infractions and warnings again and reviewed the specific complaints. This was a mess. There was basically no chance of getting this resolved with what I could communicate through personal messages.
My eyes fell on the laptop's built in camera, then swung over to Garment. That was an idea. Was it a good idea? Who the hell knew, it was nearly four in the morning and I'd spent most of the night thinking like a computer.
Okay, seriously consider this. It would resolve this issue. It would get Garment back on the forum, if not completely unbanned than at least engaged. And it would effectively give PHO a cape account, and those were always popular.
Downsides? It would mean announcing a 'cape' to the world. That would attract attention, but nothing as bad as what I had done for myself. Also, announcing like this would spare Garment any association with the baggage I'd built up for my own debut.
"Garment, if there was a way to fix this, but it would mean a lot more attention and scrutiny, would you be okay with that?" She immediately perked up. Oh yeah, asking Garment if she was alright with attention was kind of a no brainer. Was I okay with this? It would let Garment be her own person, and that was important. Besides, it was Garment.
Additionally, I was getting an uncertain but somewhat positive impression from my passenger regarding Tin_Mother. Not enough to completely bank on, but definitely no warning signs. I wondered if the rumors about tinkers working as mods for PHO carried any weight. The reaction wasn't the deciding factor, but it provided a comforting level of reassurance. I opened the message and started composing a reply.
GarmentGloves:
Thank you for your sympathy. If we were able to present evidence of the reason behind Garment's communication problems would that be enough to reconsider the ban?
Tin_Mother:
That would depend heavily on the nature of the evidence. Please don't feel the need to share any private or medically confidential information over this matter.
I looked to Garment and got an encouraging and hopeful gesture.
GarmentGloves:
If you could temporarily remove the ban Garment would like to post a video explaining her situation.
Tin_Mother:
I am willing to unblock a single board. Please note if this privilege is abused your ban may be extended permanently.
Garment put a glove on my shoulder as I typed the reply.
GarmentGloves:
Thank you. Please unblock General ► Cape Culture ►Cape Introductions
Tin_Mother:
One moment.
There was a period of interminable waiting before the next message arrived.
Tin_Mother:
Your connection is reasonably secure. Please continue. Note that abuse of the Cape Introductions board can result in permanent suspension of account.
Well, that was slightly concerning. Maybe what they say about PHO moderators lived up to the hype.
A short time later I was sitting with Garment in front of the freshly loaded and unlocked board hosting a newly posted thread and the first one from GarmentGloves. Despite everything I had done to check things and make sure the transfer went through properly Garment was still a bundle of nerves. She probably would be until she saw the video on the site.
I navigated to the first and only post and loaded the video, which was the full sum of the post's contents. The video began to play, showing the limited resolution and framerate of the built in webcam. I could have managed so much better, to the tune of a tiny 4k 60fps video camera churned out with a minute's effort from my nano forge. That would have been too much. This was going to attract enough attention without Garment suddenly having access to movie studio level equipment. The webcam was recognizable as such and gave the production the improvised edge that lent sincerity to this situation.
It was the same reason this had been shot in front of the wall of my apartment rather than in a custom built set inside my workshop. My powers may have been able to assemble the ideal environment for this purpose, but in this case the ideal environment was one that didn't look over-produced. That hadn't stopped Garment from dressing it up slightly with some suspended drapes bordering the shot. They nicely framed the image of Garment as she stood in her evening dress and white opera gloves and waved at the camera. She made some conciliatory gestures that had an apologetic air to them. Then she raised a glove and fabric began to float around her.
I had insisted that she not show her manifestation of any supplies. Explaining the mechanism would get confusing and lead people to believe she could freely produce her materials. It was easier to avoid a misconception than try to correct one.
Even without her spinning cloth out of thin air the display was breathtaking. Everything had been prepared around her so as needed thread and cloth flew up to be integrated into her work with perfect surgical precision. Garment had embraced the opportunity for her debut with a level of flair I had never seen from her before. There were elaborate flourishes, careful placement of materials to create elaborate patterns before they were integrated into the work, and even a certain rhythmic timing to the entire endeavor. It was like watching the seamstress equivalent of a master hibachi chef at work.
It wasn't just flash either. There was a certain pride displayed in what was she doing that you only got from master craftsmen. I could tell the times she slowed down her work to make it clear exactly what was happening, the type of stitch she was using, the paneling, the fabric compositions. It didn't come across perfectly due to the limits of the webcam. The resolution left a lot to be desired as did its ability to change focus. Still both the level of skill at work and the sense of pride in the act was conveyed loud and clear.
Everything came together with the grandeur of an orchestrated finale. Disparate pieces were aligned and joined with perfect seams, details fell into place, and the entire item went from a complex and confusing assembly to a finished piece of clothing in an instant. All the tiny bits of workmanship from the entire process unified into a single beautiful finished product.
Garment had made a jacket. It was one of those formal looking half jacket things that go with evening dresses. There was probably a proper term for it, but I was still largely fashion illiterate. It was white with an elaborate border and embroidery. The sleeves were short enough to not quite reach the tops of Garment's gloves in their opera form and she was able to smoothly slip into the coat. It fit perfectly with the rest of her outfit, matching the color pallet, style, and level of formality.
Most importantly the boarder coloring and embroidery matched the pallet of the PHO forums. It was blatant pandering, but that was exactly the point of this endeavor. PHO wasn't exactly a force in the cape world, but it was an important source of information and a representation of public perception. More than a few news articles pulled directly from the PHO wiki and the forums were largely considered the best feedback medium for the general public. Making a good first impression here would be important if Garment was going to be able to operate as her own cape.
The next part of the video was the important part that would explain this mess. Garment bent down out of frame and picked up one of the spare laptops. I had loaded it with a word processor with large font that was easily visible even with the limitations of the webcam. With great seriousness she began picking through the keyboard for individual keys.
H...E...L...L...O
Garment once again had to search through the keyboard to find the letter L after she had just typed it. After the word was complete she stared at the keyboard, considered things carefully, and then finally found the spacebar. Following that she began typing again.
P...H...O
The level of pride and excitement upon finishing her message was borderline unbelievable. She turned and presented the laptop screen to the camera and enthusiastically waved as the video concluded. So there it was, Garment's debut to cape society. She had beat me out, officially, and I needed to come up with something soon if I didn't want to end up with that greed demon cape name.
This would have repercussions, but I could deal with them. I would deal with them. It was clear she needed more points of contact than I could manage, and operating through what was regarded as the most secure forum in the world was a good place to start.
I felt the Celestial Forge again, this time bringing the Knowledge constellation within reach. The mote I connected with was an odd one. It was a cluster of twelve motes each the size of the smallest ones in the constellation and each representing a different category of information. The entire cluster was called Skills and the one I was able to link to was Physics. It provided an incredible comprehensive understanding of not just conventional physics but high level principles of gravity, matter & energy, and even quantum phenomena.
Like with many of my skills I wondered if some of these high level aspects were actually part of the universe or if they were facilitated by my power. This didn't provide any new technology, but applications of the principles opened up everything from faster than light communication and travel, advanced holography, force fields, weapon systems, instant matter assembly, and even effective teleportation. It would take some work to sort out the engineering, but there was an incredible wealth of potential here.
It also provided a solid grounding in research and analysis. It wasn't just knowledge, it was an understanding of how those principles were discovered and how to analyze new unknown phenomena. That was a boon both to my other technical skills and any efforts for analysis of other technology or parahuman effects.
An announcement from Garment's inbox broke me out of my contemplation, revealing another message from the moderator. I quickly opened it.
Tin_Mother:
Thank you for that sincere and impressive introduction. I do not have the authority to remove all aspects of Garment's ban at this time but I will maintain her access to the Cape Introduction thread. With your permission, and based on her posting history I will open a cape discussion thread in the Brocton Bay Capes board. Also, while there is no obligation and this will not influence your appeal status, I would appreciate it if you could answer some questions about Garment's situation and your relationship with her. Capes in a vulnerable situation, particularly those with non-human features or limitations are often subject to exploitation. It would be beneficial if I could head off any community fears around this subject.
I looked over at Garment. It wasn't a full reversal, but it was something, and probably a path towards getting her access back. Also, the mod seemed to be coming from a place of genuine concern, which was encouraging. At my questioning look Garment gave a gesture of consent and I started drafting a reply.
GarmantGloves:
It's my intention to keep Garment as safe and happy as possible. I would be willing to field any questions that would not compromise her security or privacy.
Tin_Mother:
Thank you. How did you first meet Garment?
Well, I should stick as close to the truth as possible. It's not like weirder things didn't happen in this world.
GarmantGloves:
She appeared outside of where I work. Then she insulted my fashion sense and everything I was wearing.
Garment actually seemed proud of herself when I typed that.
Since then I have tried to provide her with material for her projects and access to safe forms of communication. She is both passionate and highly skilled regarding clothing and fashion principles and I've done my best to facilitate her.
Tin_Mother:
When she appeared did Garment have any level of memory loss? Additionally does she have a mark resembling a stylized U or C anywhere on her body?
She was checking about Case 53s. I remembered reading that actual proper Case 53 capes were much less common than parahumans with altered features, but the terms were used almost interchangeably by the public.
GarmentGloves:
Garment hasn't demonstrated any desire to share information about her past. I don't know if this is related to her memory, communication difficulties, or if it is simply not a concern for her. I am not aware of her having any markings of the type you described or otherwise.
Tin_Mother:
Thank you. Finally, with the skill level she was able to demonstrate there will certainly be people attempting to contact Garment regarding business prospects. Given concerns over exploitation I would like to temporarily block incoming private messages to this account and provide you with some material on guidelines and programs for capes with Rogue classifications.
Additionally, I feel I should ask if you believe you are able to provide the necessary support for Garment given the issues she has demonstrated. I can put you in contact with organizations specializing in assistance for parahumans in similar situations.
Well, it was nice of her not to come out and accuse me of taking advantage of Garment. Still, independent operation and Rogue status would be a good fit for Garment, and there would be a flood of PMs for any confirmed cape. I should take her up on the first offer at least.
GarmentGloves:
I believe it would be good to block PMs until Garment has established a plan for how she wishes to proceed with her cape status and business policies. I will be working with Garment to address the issues that led to tonight's misunderstanding and don't believe any additional support will be necessary, but thank you for your offer.
Tin_Mother:
Acknowledged. Please contact me if you need any support. I will be happy to direct you to the relevant agencies and organizations.
I leaned back and let out a breath. Beside me Garment was a mixture of excitement and apprehension.
"I think it will be alright. PHO loves cape interactions. They'll definitely roll back the restrictions once this gets out. We just have to give them some time."
I failed to suppress a yawn as Garment made anxious gestures towards the computer. That reminded me.
"Let me see what I can do with this laptop. There's no reason for you to be stuck with a retail model anymore."
Once again I was struck between being objectively impressed by the technological advancement of my upgrades and how frustrating it was to be unable to build what I knew I was capable of, instead reduced to realigning human computational frameworks.
Okay, that's it. I'm starting that jar retroactively. Four quarters in it and maybe then I'll be able to get a handle on this.
The point was that despite the quality of what I could build I was still working with technological architecture of a conventional nature, the species which built that technology not being relevant to this line of thinking. Shifting to optical processing would be a big step up, particularly with what my latest batch of knowledge allowed me to do with isolinear circuitry. The problem was none of that would directly interface with the technology what-is-common-in-this-world so I'd have to build everything from scratch. The best option would be working with multidimensional processors, but that wasn't possible without at least trace amounts of cybertonium for key junctions.
At this point I couldn't even build a proper datatrax. The new laptop's storage drive could barely hold half a petabyte of rapid access flash memory, and that wasn't even getting into the compromises I'd had to make in terms of processing power or battery life. I was able to make up for some of it with hybridization builds, but I honestly felt bad handing this over.
Garment had been waiting patiently as I worked, doing her best to conceal her anxiety over the situation in general and her laptop in particular. The forge missed another connection to the Knowledge constellation as I put the finishing design touches on the computer. Bling of War let me personalize it to Garment's style and Decadence ensured the workmanship was impeccable. Her reaction to the engraved and filigreed computer casing was the most positive I'd seen since this mess began.
Now came the hard part, attempting to give Garment a typing lesson. I started with basic finger placement and a keyboard guide, but that got nowhere. She would still check each letter before typing it and seemed to have trouble remembering placements with respect to her fingers. Online typing guides and mnemonic devices proved useless and just resulted in frustration as Garment struggled to decipher them.
That was when I decided to get creative. Unfortunately creative doesn't mean effective. I thought I was being clever with the modified keyboard that had cloth swatches on the keys for telekinetic manipulation. All that resulted in was avoiding the time for the key to be pressed by a glove instead of telekinesis. The search time was exactly as bad. I didn't understand how she could read language and understand speech but had so much trouble with writing. Then again I had no idea how she sensed the world or what her thought process was like. The results of these efforts were proving there was a much more significant barrier than I had anticipated.
The cloth type keyboard didn't help. A color coded keyboard didn't help. A customized alphabetical layout didn't help. I was about ready to try putting together some kind of visual alphabet like you find on the walls of a kindergarten, only with fashion concepts instead of pictures of farm animals when I realized I'd been approaching this the wrong way.
I could try to work with Garment to overcome whatever was causing this through her own effort and with supporting equipment, but what she really needed was help. The easiest thing to set up would be an autocomplete, but those could easily go wrong and I didn't ever want to risk a repeat of tonight. She needed an assistant and fortunately I had just began development of a data management program.
The laptop was cobbled together crap, but it should be able to run a truncated fork of my data management and survey program. It would have the benefit of allowing development in linguistic skills while providing more support than any autocomplete would be capable of. Anyway, Garment deserved an assistant.
I left Garment to admire the aesthetics of her laptop and moved to my computational throne. Once again the world fell away and I was part of the computer system. I reached out to the partition where my Survey and Fleet programs were engaged in their optimization and development routine and opened my mind to it.
Suddenly I was standing by a river on a bright summer day. I could feel the humidity in the air, the slight breeze blowing off the water, and the sunlight dappled between occasional clouds. In the distance the iconic shape of the Eifel tower rose over the city of Paris. I could see boats on the river and pedestrians milling around, taking in the weather. And in the distance the beginning of a symphony of engine sounds.
An entire pack of vehicles peeled past me at clearly unsafe speeds. It was a mix of sports cars, roadsters, six types of motorcycles and what looked like a small hovercraft trailing behind. They wove around each other and the obstacles of the road in a bid to claim the lead before swerving down a side street leaving nothing but the sounds of their engines and the screech of tires.
I pulled back from the surface level of the simulation and examined the code beneath it. Fleet was simultaneously piloting multiple vehicles through an environment being generated in real time by Survey. The entire city wasn't modeled, just areas relevant to the track with the visuals of the rest of the landscape approximated based on internet research and iterative simulations. Factors like road surface, visibility, directional glare, air resistance, even wind and humidity were being calculated. From Fleets side the program was simulating multiple vehicles at the same time while also piloting them through the course and responding to changes in conditions. It looked like the different vehicles were approximated from available specifications with their performance extrapolated using the data from the day's drive.
Both programs were working in competition, but were also collaborating to a greater deal than I expected. Pretty much the full sensor records of the day being used as a true to life reference point for the simulations. The programs weren't really advanced enough to express any agency, but there was a desire for more practical data in order to improve their simulation development. I provided them with a timeline for the next probable excursions and some commentary on their simulation records, which already included a half dozen cities and six times as many vehicles.
The development was impressive, but it would soon reach the limit of their processing capabilities and be reduced to optimization cycles. That was regrettably by design since unrestrained A.I. was one of the biggest black list technologies out there. If it didn't bring down the Protectorate on my head it could easily draw the attention of the Endbringers. It meant I would have to do staged upgrades and guide both development and any copies to be generated rather than allow them free agency. At this point it was barely a concern as both programs were too primitive to handle anything beyond their initial parameters, and just barely that.
Still, the Survey program was functioning well and would be able to assist Garment much better than any level of autocorrect. I adjusted the objectives and created a truncated copy running in parallel with an update link to the core program. After a final review I disconnected from the interface and went to check on Garment.
She was idly playing with the assorted pieces of my planned costume redesign. With everything that had happened our joint project had completely slipped my mind. I made a note to make sure to follow up with that assembly but focused on introducing Garment to the new interface. There was still a bit of work to that. Survey had access to her entire posting history, including Youtube, Twitter, and PHO. Upon the first letter typed the program was able to start making suggestions. Unfortunately Garment had a bit of trouble indicating when the suggestion was correct. I ended up adding an extra button to the computer solely for the purpose of signaling the survey program. I watched Garment work on the new system. It was still painfully slow to start, but at least she didn't need to type the entire word before Survey was able to narrow down what she was going for.
I quickly checked PHO. The ban was still in place with the exception of the introductory thread. Despite the stupid hour that post had already seen some traffic.
"Alright, you should be safe sticking with this thread. Be careful and see how things go. I'm going to get some sleep."
Garment made a series of grateful gestures and waved me off as I left the Workshop to try to get some rest. When I opened the door to the entry way I saw that Garment had returned my mattress to the floor. I also saw that she had assembled a complete set of new bedlinens, pillows, and comforters that looked like they would be more appropriate in an imperial court. The opulence was in stark contrast with the fact that the entire assembly was sitting flat on the floor without even a bedframe holding it up.
I glanced back at Garment who broke her attention from the computer to make shooing gestures towards me. With a sigh I got changed and slipped into bed. The new sheets were smooth and unbelievably comfortable. It was like being embraced by clouds and I felt kinks in my back I had barely been aware of, likely the result of hours on that interface throne, begin to unspool themselves. The stress was just melting off me and I could feel the fog of blissful sleep settle over my mind.
Which was exactly when my watch alarm went off, signaling the time for my morning run.
I considered a lot of things as I lay in bed with my watch buzzing at me. I considered if my earlier commitment to an exercise routine was that well placed. I considered if this cape business was actually worth the trouble if it resulted in what was now three six o'clocks in the same day. I considered the existence of Noctus capes and the massive injustice they represented. I considered the various theoretical temporal manipulation technologies I was now aware of and whether a few extra hours of sleep on demand would be worth risking irreparable damage to the space time continuum. In my current mindset I was leaning heavily towards a yes on that last question.
Eventually the strength of routine overwhelmed all other objections and I peeled myself out of bed and into my workout clothes. Coffee, toast, run. The coffee and toast part took longer than it should have and involved considerably more coffee, but I got myself out the door.
I made it half way down the steps when I realized I had left my workshop open. Well, it wasn't that bad. Garment was there and I at least trusted Fleet to be able to intercept intruders at this point. Also the chances of a break in were fairly low given the look of the apartment and the presence of better targets in literally every direction. If I had sealed the workshop that would have cut off network access to everyone inside, meaning Garment would have had to move to the apartment and Fleet and Survey would lose access to reference data. It should be fine as long as I made this run fast.
That was actually the deciding factor in why I had chosen to stick to my schedule. I needed reference data for what my nanites did when I triggered a mass activation for transfer. Mass activations for transfers like the ones I'd forgotten to do through the night and before I left. Needed to watch out for that. It would be hard enough to assemble that nanite colony even if I adhered to a perfect schedule. Miss too many and that week could easily turn into months of work.
In order to get a good sense of how the nanites treated damage due to exercise I needed to perform an activation under a scanner following the harshest workout I could manage. That was why I was abandoning my usually measured pace in exchange for a speed usually reserved for cases of pursuit by large carnivorous predators. In short I was booking it like my life depended on it.
It nicely set me apart from all the happy Saturday joggers who looked so thrilled to be out in the stabbing sunlight of the hour of the damned. I don't like this time of day when I see it from the front. Coming at it from the back adds a whole other element of disgust. Thankfully my desperate blitz of a pace blew past the casual morning canter of those mad people.
I deliberately ignored any claps or cheers of approval that came my way. I don't need the endorsement of anyone who endures this time of day by choice.
I maintained the pace along the road to the bay, for the north leg of the Boardwalk, and nearly back to the midpoint before I crashed badly. It snuck up on me, but suddenly there was just nothing left in the tank. That ended with me half collapsed on a bench, soaked with sweat, and panting like my life depended on it.
Despite the less than noble posture it seemed if you were wearing nice workout clothes you were allowed to lounge on the Boardwalk while trying to figure out if your lugs had actually exploded, or just felt like they did. I even got some more of those encouraging looks from the early morning joggers. God I hated them. Stop being friendly! I'm not one of you!
It turned out to be something of a blessing that I was sitting down because the Celestial Forge circled around again, once again bringing the Size constellation into reach. My power connected to a similar mote to my previous one, but this was only two motes clustered rather than twelve. I had enough reach to secure connections with both of them at which point I found out exactly what they were and was very glad that I had not been sprinting at a mad pace when this hit me.
Certain motes had a kind of similar feel to them. For instance, any motes clustered together had a similar association. It was less common, but there were motes that weren't connected that had a sense of familiarity. Fingers of Silver and Bling of War had some association, but I had no idea what it was. My latest power had a similar relationship, but the nature of it was blindingly obvious.
The motes were called Science! Mechanics and Science! Engineering and they were the same kind of power as Master Builder. Where that power had been a civilization's worth of technology these two contained the theory and principles behind it. With these two powers I had a crazy mechanical society's equivalent of a PhD in both topics. The raw information had been hard to deal with. This power brought insight, nuance, and experience. There was less information but it was so much richer that I had to struggle to keep my mind straight. It made me long for the feeling of my neural interface and the sensation was made so much worse by the way my legs and lungs were currently screaming at me.
I did my best to push aside the perspectives that were making my current existence an unfamiliar sensation and focused on what I would be able to do with these powers. Master Builder had been an incredible ability, but I was limited to the applications of technology as it presented them. My new abilities gave insight into the theory and development behind that technology. I could actually come up with workarounds for some of the obstacles and resource constraints I'd been suffering under. It would be enough for me to develop my own new branch of applications rather than use standard configurations or jury rigged human technology.
Okay, not that I needed reminding here, but that's five quarters total for the jar. I committed to set it up as soon as I got back and worked to pull myself off the bench. Despite the difficult mental state I managed a stable jogging pace on the way back to my apartment. As I ran I reviewed the mental shifts I was dealing with. Previously I had danced around this issue with terms like inhuman mindset or mechanical perspective, but at this point there was no reason to be coy. This shit had come from robots.
I had the technology and science of an entire civilization of space age robots floating through my head. I didn't really know what to make of that. This was a serious step away from just having an abnormal tinker power. It was full on alien conspiracy stuff. Between the Celestial Forge and the reality of multiple universes that we all lived with it shouldn't be that hard to believe, but there's a big difference between something as a concept and having that something as part of your own personal experience. I did my best to hold on to the mantra of the Celestial Forge. Fiat backed. It just works. That would be a lot easier to accept if I wasn't trying to parse personal lived experience of a robotic existence at the moment.
I made it back to my apartment drenched in a layer of sweat that wasn't entirely due to the intensity of my workout. The first thing I did was dig out an old jar, currently holding various pens and small knickknacks. I dumped them into a random drawer and set the jar on the counter of the kitchenette. This might be an empty gesture, but I needed to keep an eye on this thing. One after another five quarters dropped into the jar. The act actually made me feel a little better about the whole situation.
I hoped I wouldn't run into any powers in the forge with worse mental effects than this, but some of those motes were terrifyingly powerful. Something that strong acting directly on my mind would have a serious impact no matter what my hopes were. I just had to deal with it. Already the new information was becoming less distracting. I didn't know about long term effects, but that's what the jar was for. That's right, I might have a cosmic power warping my mind in a way I couldn't control or understand, but I also have a jar of coins!
Sarcasm is damn essential for stress management and anyone who says otherwise is a filthy liar.
Before I moved to the Laboratorium to carry out the point of this whole endeavor I went to check on Garment. She was still typing on her laptop in the workshop, only now she would type two or three letters, check the screen, then press the approve button. It wasn't that much of an improvement, but it probably more than doubled her typing speed.
She jumped up when I entered and gestured me over. From the look of things she was alternating between her introduction thread on PHO and her twitter account, which had picked up a few hundred followers in the time I'd been gone. She excitedly directed me to a personal message announcing that her ban was under review and she should expect an update later in the day. Her account currently had an Unverified Cape tag on it, but another message explained that was tied to forum policies regarding public appearances.
Her discussion thread also seemed to be picking up steam. I checked on the first page.
♦ Topic: Garment Discussion Thread
In: Boards ► Places ► America ► Brocton Bay ► Capes ►
Tin_Mother (Original Poster) (Moderator)
Posted On Apr 16th 2011:
In response to the recent announcement post I have created this thread for discussion of the newly debuted cape, Garment. Confirmation efforts are still ongoing, but there is sufficient confidence in the details that have been provided to staff to justify opening this thread.
(Showing page 1 of 23)
►SackBagger
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
Fake
►Great_Divide (Veteran Member)
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
Who the hell would put that level of effort into faking a webcam quality video?
► SackBagger
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
Ploy to get people to buy into it. You can tell by the reflections, the whole thing is CGI.
►Tumbles
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
Isn't that the guy that was trolling boards all night?
►Noddy
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
Girl, by the looks of things.
► SackBagger
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
Neither, it's a fake.
►Great_Divide (Veteran Member)
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
So your theory is someone joined the forum, trolled in a very specific way in order to get banned, reached out to the mods for a single thread exception and then posted a specifically prepared video with what would take thousands of dollars in CGI all for the purposes of deceiving a bunch of cape forum yahoos?
This thread came from a mod and required a ban exemption for the post to be made. Something has happened behind the scenes here that's more complicated than someone pulling a lame prank.
►Forgotten Specter
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
Cape Forum Yahoos Represent!
Seriously though, shouldn't it be Garment Gloves? Garmentgloves? How is that supposed to go?
►Great_Divide (Veteran Member)
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
Garment comes from the Mod, so I'm guessing that's the cape name? Could be difference between screen name and hero name, or even first name last name. There's clearly been some PMs going on here.
End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 21, 22, 23
Rather than dig through twenty pages of similar material just I jumped to the end.
(Showing page 23 of 23)
►RowOver
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
Holy Shit, Invisible Fashion Cape!
►BB_Fashionista
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
God, read the previous posts. It's not invisibility. At 2:34 you can see a piece of lint moving through where her head and body would be. It's either selective intangibility or some kind of telekinetic projection.
►Asian_American_Doll
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
It's probably Parian. She's just doing everything from off camera.
►BB_Fashionista
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
For fuck sake, not this again. For the hundredth time there's no way this is Parian. Parian doesn't make bias cut evening dresses in a modernization of Madeleine Vionnet's 1930's style. Parian hasn't touched bias cut since her first attempt got panned during New York Fashion Week back in September 2009. I don't know if you ever watched one of Parian streams but their techniques are completely different. The embroidery alone should tell you that.
I'm sick and tired of making this point. But maybe your right, Maybe Parian decided to create a new online identity and coordinate postings at the same time she was guest co-hosting on the Fashion East-North-East podcast. Maybe she set all this up, the ban, the mod appeal, the new identity despite the fact that it's grounds for having your main account suspended, because it's not like forum rules apply to capes. Maybe she did all this to premiere an actual innovative style and show she's finally moving in a new direction.
If seriously she did all that I could totally forgive her for the fact that her fall 2010 line was just the second bustle era with shorter hemlines and no color sense, but somehow I doubt it.
►Asian_American_Doll
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
God damn, can anyone on this forum mention Parian without BB_Fashionista having to write an essay in response? And you're crazy. The fall 2010 line was her best work to date and it's sad that you can't see that.
►Dingo_Day
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
Guys, we're getting off topic. Can we talk about how crazy it is that Brockton Bay has more than one telekinetic fashion cape? What do they put in the water up there?
►BB_Fashionista
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
We certainly have more than one telekinetic cape, I'll give you that.
►Asian_American_Doll
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
Ladies and gentleman, a cheap shot from BB_Fashionista that doesn't read like they're being paid by the word. Will wonders never cease?
►Tin_Mother (Moderator)
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:
I'm getting tired of saying this, but move the Parian discussion to her own thread or take it to PMs. There will be no more warnings.
End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 21, 22, 23
Well, that got more heated than I anticipated, but cape debates are inevitable and have a tendency to fly off the rails. I quickly skimmed Garment's introduction thread. Fortunately with the video out there people seemed to be taking her one word replies in good humor. They weren't getting much detail, but anyone who complained about it got shouted down pretty fast. It was incredible how quickly the tone of a site changed, or at least the tone of the members willing to post on a cape's introduction thread.
I felt the Celestial Forge again and braced myself. Getting caught up on Garment's reception had nicely distracted me from the impact of my last power, but now everything was flooding back to me. As I watched the approaching constellation most of my concerns vanished. Toolkits. The constellation that had given me my workshop and Laboratorium. I didn't know how many workshop upgrades were in there as opposed to actual toolkits, but I was desperate for more work space. The only disheartening thing was how short my reach was after securing the last two powers.
Fortunately I managed to connect with something. Unfortunately it was the smallest mote in the constellation, possibly the smallest in the entire Celestial Forge. It was actually two motes, not related in any way, just bunched up to look like a normal mote. The toolkit constellation had finally given me some tools.
The first mote was called Diagnostic Tools. To my understanding it was a small set of scanners connected to a display screen that allowed diagnostic work on both simple and advanced technology. Nowhere near as good as my Laboratorium but infinitely more portable. I would have to examine it to determine the exact limits and how well it compared, but it presented opportunities in the field I just didn't have before and might even allow rapid, if superficial, analysis of tinker tech.
The second item was called Micromanipulators. These were a set of mechanical gloves that allowed precision work to the level a single micron. While I had been working a thousand times finer than that in my nanoforge these would let me extend high precision to every task I undertook, even those outside of a crafting and research environment. Once again, the limits and potential could only be guessed at before I had a chance to examine them, and unfortunately I had more pressing concerns.
"I've got to run some tests in the Laboratorium. Are you alright here?"
Garment gave me an affirmative gesture and bid me farewell. As a pleasant surprise so did the copy of Survey running on the laptop. It was an impressive amount of development, though dealing with forum posts would likely do that. I would need to spend more time monitoring both programs in the neural interface, but that was on a long list of projects I was working to tackle.
I did take enough time to check on the new arrivals. A pair of new lockers had been added to the entry way. One had a nearly industrial look to it and swung open to reveal a flat screen the size of my palm. There were various ports with cables attached to them that led to an array of scanners and probes. I would need to take a closer look to get a sense of the range and level of detail of its scans.
The next locker was sleek and futuristic, just a white metal panel recessed into the wall. Rather than swing open the panel slid apart with a smooth hydraulic motion. Inside were stands holding a pair of mechanical gloves that would extend to the elbow when worn. There was a dark layer of some synthetic material covered with metallic structures that looked almost skeletal. Around the wrists, knuckles, and elbows were bulges representing the clusters of precise servos and artificial muscles that provided the level of precision that the gloves were capable of. Once again, incredibly useful, but a project for later. The longer I left this examination the less accurate the data would be.
Actually, if I was being examined I'd need someone else to operate the scanner. I didn't want to tear Garment away from her laptop and frankly given her skill with a conventional keyboard I didn't trust her to operate a gothic computer shrine. Fleet had shown serious improvements and should be able to manage a basic series of operations at this point. I guided him out of the workshop and through the door to the Laboratorium.
I knew my Laboratorium didn't like magic. I knew my Laboratorium didn't like alien lifeforms. At this point I should be used to the idea of my Laboratorium randomly freaking out over stuff brought into it. Despite that I wasn't prepared for every skull in the cathedral sized room to start convulsing at the site of my motoroid walking inside.
Apparently the systems in the Laboratorium took issues with robots. Well, specifically artificially intelligent robots, or as the computers insisted on calling them, Abominable Intelligences. It was a level of panic I couldn't even override. Every computer in the room was going into lockdown and cutting itself off from connections like it was about to be infected by some invisible plague. Only the skulls remained operational and they were definitely not happy.
I couldn't understand it. I knew there were the equivalences of A.I. in some of the Laboratorium's systems. Ok, they were referred to as machine spirits, but they were a lot more advanced than Fleet. Why were they acceptable and not my driving program?
I had to dig into the documentation to figure out what was going on. By that I mean actual paper documentation. I didn't even know that existed, but apparently there was a hardcopy reference library included with the lab. The shelves were just usually covered with a series of murals depicting nine figures posing in heavy armor with advanced weapons. Eight men of various levels of gruffness, their armor a spectrum of colors, and one beautifully depicted woman with angel wings and golden armor. The entire assembly slid open to reveal a density of literature I hadn't encountered since the hell that was my second year engineering research project.
Fortunately the reference library had its own set of skulls. There was something about them that just conveyed a sense of librarian. There's a certain aura to that profession that can't be dispelled even when reduced to a skinless head suspended on a coil of servo cables. They somehow managed to convey both annoyance and helpfulness at the same time as they directed me to a volume that would put phone books to shame. Luckily they were also able to direct me to the relevant section.
In short, in order to get the place out of lockdown I needed to confirm the limits of the program's development to ensure that it was an upstanding automaton rather than some renegade A.I. out to devour all innocent circuitry that crossed its path. By the way, that was a direct quote. That task could be accomplished by verification of the programs resources, parameters, and hardware through an isolated terminal. Once that was passed I had to move on to the induction process.
Just to getting the green light from the analysis wasn't enough to appease my lab systems. No, there needed to be a specific ceremony before they would accept my motoroid's presence. Which is why I was watching a skull reverently attach a wax seal to a strip of inscribed parchment and mount it to my robot's chassis. It seemed like pointless showmanship, but once the blob of wax was stamped with that image of a two headed eagle every system in the room immediately relaxed. It was a seemingly arbitrary requirement and while I was worried about running into any more of these limitations I wasn't going to trudge through that entire library trying to figure out the arcane procedures for this place. Not until Bakuda was no longer a threat.
With the seal in place the skulls were more than happy to assist Fleet in operation of the Laboratorium's systems. I stood in one of the larger bays and ran a full activation of nanites as the scanners spun around me. The faint blue glow of the circuitry lines contrasted sharply with the eerie gloom of the room's ambient lighting. I ignored everything around me and focused on the effects of the activation.
The burning in my legs vanished almost immediately. The physical edge of my fatigue went along with it, though I was still mentally exhausted. I felt energy return to me as the machines worked. It was almost as if the effects of the run were being erased, which was actually my concern.
When I stopped noticing any more changes I let the nanites stand down and checked the sensor readings. There was a chance that I had just wiped out all the benefits of my morning exercise. If that was the case nanite extraction would get complicated and probably be limited to a single burst on rest days. Fortunately that couldn't be further from the case.
I scrolled through the sensor data and watched the work of the nanites. Given how advanced they were I shouldn't have been surprised, but it was still impressive to watch. They weren't just fixing damage, they were extrapolating natural recovery, including the benefits of exercise. The effects weren't being erased, they were being accelerated. I could probably do a week's worth of high intensity workouts in a single day, break them up with nanite repair sessions, and immediately get the full benefit of the exercise. It effectively truncated my training program.
There was also an alert from the historic analysis of the Laboratorium. It seemed the sensors had recorded a related phenomenon earlier. I drew up the record and immediately recognized the potential.
Life Fibers.
My brief contact with life fibers had been recorded by the Laboratorium's sensors. The manner in which they stressed the body was connected with my post workout condition. Essentially contact with life fibers counted as serious strain on the body's systems, but in a generally non-damaging way. With standard recovery periods it could function as accelerated physical conditioning. Except with my nanites I could reduce the recovery period to mere minutes. Repeated life fiber exposure could quickly bring me to peak human condition, potentially further given the symbiotic enhancement the fibers were capable of. I wouldn't even need to used them in the field, they could be my training regimen and condense weeks or months of work down to hours.
I suppressed a yawn as I considered the implications. There would be no more morning runs. I wouldn't have to bother with weight training. That planned calisthenics program could be abandoned. I'd have no need to run early in the day. Without having to carefully monitor my nutrition I could eat normally, saving time and money. I could abandon the planned expansions of my conditioning program. I wouldn't have to wake up early to fit cardio training into my schedule. I would have more desperately needed time for tinkering. I would be able to sleep in.
I looked to the stasis field where the spool of life fibers was suspended and started considering the best experimental procedure for this project. Fleet would be essential since robots didn't have any biology that would trigger or attract the fibers. With that I'd be able to devise a system of controlled exposure. If it worked the way the scans suggested then I'd be able to create a regime of brief exposure and recovery that would completely take the place of all of my physical development work.
When I had completed my preparations the final apparatus involved both myself and the motoroid in one of the larger bays with continually active sensors. The spool was locked down in an improvised vice with a carefully controlled length of life fibers strung between the robot's arms like a cat's cradle. It would provide a large area of contact while still being controlled enough to facilitate an abort if needed. I was preparing for contact using my forearm while ready for retreat in the event of any mishaps. The fibers had been completely inert during the setup procedure, but I remembered how they moved the last time I experimented with them.
The Celestial Forge missed a connection with the Magic constellation just as I was finishing preparations. I stifled a yawn and shook the cobwebs out of my head. Nanites were great for physical refreshment, but that did precisely jack for my mental state. I should probably get some sleep after this experiment was complete.
I considered my safety procedures. I had gotten my hyper alloy shin guard, so in the event of any kind of breach I would be safe until I can contain the fibers. I doubt that will be a problem since they're being restrained by my motoroid who's made of the same stuff. My nanites should be able to mitigate any bodily effects from contact with the life fibers. In an emergency the bay's stasis field controls were within arm's reach. The narrow field configuration would catch the motoroid but also immobilize the fibers.
I braced myself, checked the scanner inputs, and laid the back of my forearm against the mesh of fibers. The glow that burst from them dwarfed the emission seen during the previous experiment. It was actually painful to look at, but that was nothing compared to the feeling of power extending up my arm and into my body. It was electrifying and overwhelmed my senses.
That was probably why I didn't register the creak of metal until it was too late. There was a wrenching crash as the fibers snapped together, tearing the motoroid's limbs apart and ensnaring my entire arm. The sensation of energy and power I'd been struggling elevated to insane levels as they wrapped around me. With my entangled state the stasis controls were out of reach. Even if I could activate them they would do nothing to the portion of the fibers that had pulled away from the spool. I heard a warning beep from the terminal's biometrics and channeled all my focus to the activation of my nanites.
Blue lines clashed with red as more and more of the thread spun its way around my body, knocking me to the ground. Fleet struggled futilely with the shattered remains of the motoroid's arms in an effort to keep the spool contained. Even if the motoroid form wasn't crippled it was doubtful anything could be accomplished against them. The level of restraint necessary had been badly miscalculated. My analysis had been of the fibers in their dormant state. They were an entirely different beast when connected to a host.
The restoration effect of my nanites proved to be a double edged sword. It was preventing any serious harm from being caused by the fibers, but also creating an essentially infinite feast for the creature that had been trapped in hibernation for Lord knows how long. The result was a level of activity that dwarfed the reactions seen before and eclipsed even my most aggressive estimates. Steam started to fill the examination bay as sweat began to boil off my skin. My exercise clothing began to singe under the fibers grip, its enhanced durability no match for the exotic energies they were putting out. Anywhere fibers touched skin they glowed like a magnesium flare, sending waves of power through my muscles, but they were still useless against the strength of the threads. My body felt hot and cold and electrified all at the same time. Flesh bulged around the fibers as they pulled against both the strength of my reinforcement and the restorative power of my nanites.
The nanites were the only thing letting me survive this mess. Theoretically I could last as long as they held out, which thanks to their flagrant disregard for conservation of energy and mass would be until I could no longer direct them. So I was trapped here until I passed out at which point the fibers would drain me dry.
This had been a bad idea. It was inevitable really. No good ideas happened after 3:00am. I knew that before I got my powers, but it was only more evident now. Post-3:00am thinking had decided giving magic weapons to a teenage super villain was a great idea. Now post-3:00am thinking was responsible for an experiment with an alien parasite that amounted to sticking my arm into it to see what would happen. I needed to get serious about my sleep commitments if I was going to have any chance of surviving this cape thing.
My options for survival in the current situation weren't exactly plentiful, but I had one hope. In a desperate bid I attempted to stretch the limits of my nanite control and reached out to the fibers entrapping me.
It was similar to my healing effect, but much more directed. When I said the fibers were impossibly thin I wasn't kidding. The individual cells had a diameter that was barely recognizable on the nano scale. There was also an immediate restorative effect, so even if I could directly damage them with my nanites it would be instantly healed. But by propagating nanites through the structure of the fibers I could feel out the mass, including the complex energy discharges that passed for its cognitive processes. It took some work, but I was able to get a rough sense of what it was thinking, sort of.
Everything was instinctual, which was probably why I was able to piece it together. Any more complex thoughts would have been completely opaque. The drives were basic in the extreme. Connect. Feed. Grow. I couldn't do anything about the first or last directive, but I extended my nanites and focused on the restorative effects I'd theorized about with my own healing.
The tiny machines flowed between the fibers and worked to supplement the energy flows they were pulling from my body. It didn't loosen the grip, but the overwhelming surges of power flowing to and from my body dropped off and I could feel my head clear slightly. I got a sense of what might have been satisfaction from the fibers. It was difficult to understand and I wasn't sure they were complex enough for emotional reactions, or even capable of such. Still, the current situation had definitely dropped the level of aggression I was experiencing.
It struck me again just how complicated this creature was. It was obviously sentient and had the potential to become sapient. It had its own drives and desires and the capacity for both restraint and, theoretically, reason. If it developed enough communication might just be a possibility. Of course, that relied on me being able to get out of this mess without being devoured.
Suddenly, miraculously, the life fibers pulled themselves off my skin. I watched in amazement as the entire mass uncoiled itself from my body and lifted into the air. It still glowed faintly, but nothing like the blinding radiance from before. As it departed I felt the tumultuous energy go with it, leaving me panting and exhausted, but finally safe. I lay on the floor staring at the floating assembly of thread and wondered just what had brought my salvation. Then I saw the white gloves.
"Garment?"
I twisted to see Garment's form standing by the scanning bay gesturing casually at the massive alien parasite. The insane strength of the fibers seemed completely irrelevant to Garment's telekinesis as she absentmindedly examined the hovering creature. It appeared that it didn't matter what kind of force something could bring to bear. If it counted as sewing materials Garment could handle it.
"Garment." I panted and struggled to pull myself to my feet. She reached down to gently help me up without as much as a tremble from the contained fibers. "Garment, thank you." I glanced around. "How did you know what was happening?"
She gestured to the motoroid and then to her laptop, which was now sitting on one of the computer altars. Fleet and Survey. Of course they would be in communication. This was an excellent sign for their development. I really needed to check on that. I'd check later. Boy I was tired.
One of the skulls was reverently affixing a wax seal and scrap of parchment to the laptop's case while Fleet looked on with what could be construed as pride. Yes that was good. Seriously, I was really, really tired.
"Thank you Garment. That was very good. Uh, be careful with those. Fleet knows where they go." I looked at the damaged motoroid. I would have to fix that as well. Huh, I wonder if I would be able to stand on my own without Garment's support. Ok, that's a nope, definitely not happening. Thank you Garment. Nice catch.
"The fibers are important. If you could help me with them they could do a lot of good." She made a dismissive gesture of consent before pointing out my current state. The fibers had managed to burn dozens of lines through my workout clothes reducing them to shreds. The nanites had kept my body from ending up in a similar state, but weren't able to counter all of the effects from removing the fibers. My brain felt like a lead brick.
"Right, I need to deal with that. And a bunch of other stuff. I'll get to it." I felt my eyelids droop. "I'm just going to take a little nap first." And with that the Laboratorium and everyone in it faded from my senses as darkness swallowed me.
Jumpchain abilities this chapter:
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.
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.
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.
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.
And this is the chapter that moved me from "Yeah this is cool" to "Wait its 2am already? Oh well one or two more chapters wont hurt that much when I have to get up at 7."
Garment as a character is amazing, I really felt for her and her struggle here. well done getting me invested
The lab is just fun.
Garment as a character is amazing, I really felt for her and her struggle here. well done getting me invested
The lab is just fun.
ThatGazzer
Minds Eye Bind
- Location
- PNW
- Pronouns
- They/Them
I love these little guys so much
15 Recuperation
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
15 Recuperation
I floated back to consciousness slowly, trying to piece my way through the soft and fuzzy feelings clouding my senses. It took me longer than it should have to figure out that the feelings weren't artifacts of my mind, but rather physical parts of my surroundings. I was in bed. I was in a version of my bed that was a great deal softer and more comfortable what than I was used to. I blinked away the last of the sleep from my eyes and sat up in the dim light of my workshop entryway.
In addition to new sheets, new blankets and new pillows I was also in new pajamas. Really well made new pajamas, which meant Garment had put me to bed after that stupid mess with the life fibers. There was a flash of panic at that. I hadn't exactly been able to get things safely stored away before I had ignobly collapsed. Then again, it seemed if anyone could keep a handle on those things it was Garment. The idea of Garment putting me to bed complete with custom made pajamas was a little weird, but I had another pressing concern that was overriding ever one of those worries. A concern serious enough to drag me away from what seemed like the most comfortable bed I had ever experienced in my life.
I was absolutely starving.
Seriously, I don't remember the last time I had been this desperate for food. My mouth was watering just at the prospect of some of the cardboard flavored health food I'd been subsisting on since my trigger. I was so desperate for anything to eat that it felt like I was being dragged towards the workshop door solely by the will of my stomach.
When I pulled the door open I saw garment sitting at my old desk with her laptop active in front of her. My motoroid was sitting on the floor next to her, its robot form, its arms now ending in a shattered mess. I would have to deal with that. After food. The Celestial Forge missed a connection to the toolkits constellation as I stumbled into my apartment.
Garment jumped up as soon as I entered and rushed over. I waved her off as I pushed through to the kitchenette. "Yes, thanks. Really, really starving. Talk later."
That didn't stop her from hovering after me as I stumbled through the overly narrow shape of my apartment. My motoroid was attempting to follow as well, but between its missing hands and the magnitude of its weight compared to the durability of the apartment floor it moved significantly more cautiously than Garment.
I wrenched open the door of my small refrigerator and frantically searched for anything with nutritional value. Taste, texture, and freshness were completely irrelevant at this point. All I wanted was something technically eatable that I could get into my body.
Fun fact; if you're hungry enough yogurt counts as a beverage, and when properly motivated it is indeed possible to shotgun a family sized container in one go.
I'm not sure if Garment was concerned by the fact that I was powering through every piece of food I had that was technically edible without needing to be cooked. Generally she seemed to be happy I was on my feet and only expressed unease when I was attempting to consume something that put the new pajamas at risk of serious staining. I had reached the point where I was seriously considering if lentils could be eaten raw when the ring of my cellphone brought me back to my senses.
The first thing that jumped into my head was the fact that I had a therapy appointment today. I had diligently not been thinking about it since Dr. Campbell had called to confirm and I had a brief flash of panic at the prospect that I might have overslept and missed it. That was resolved and replaced with a whole new level of concern as I realized the situation.
It wasn't my personal phone. It was my 'work' phone.
I quickly grabbed it from the shelf. Unlike my civilian phone the rebuilt power cell would last for weeks, so it didn't need to live on a charger. I saw Brian's number on the display and quickly answered.
"Hello?" I tried to keep my voice level. There were all kinds of horrible things that this could involve. The best case scenario was a business call for more tinkering work, but that would be fairly short notice. I really hoped they weren't calling in emergency medical services already.
"Joe?" Brian's voice wasn't panicked, but there was a bit of unease to it. "Uh, I just wanted to let you know, that thing you said would happen happened."
God, I was too hungry for this coded language stuff. "Look, you can talk straight. I've secured this line against anything short of a surveillance tinker. Actually..." I gestured to Garment and she brought over her laptop. A few commands to Survey got me an inside look at the telecom network. "...yeah, we're clear of that. If anyone's listening it's not through the phone company."
There was a pause before he spoke. "Right. Well, the knife you made? It just fixed itself. I was watching it and the blade showed back up out of nowhere."
That made sense. I focused on its location. I wasn't getting two readings any more, just one in the direction of the Undersiders' base. I hoped that half of the knife disappearing from the protectorate headquarters wouldn't cause any problems. It probably wouldn't help with that 'actually a shaker' misconception, but at this point that was more their problem than mine.
"Oh, good. Guess this means you'll be missing out on that kitchen set."
"Yeah..." his voice trailed off. "About that. I wanted to ask you about the knives."
"Is there something wrong with them?" There shouldn't be. I mean, they had been a rush job and they weren't my best work, particularly by my current standards, but they should be completely functional.
"No, that's not it." There was another pause. "Look, I talked with Lisa about this. She told me what it meant if the knives held up like you said, with the repair thing."
I was still ferociously hungry. My early binge had pulled me back from the point where I was questioning the nutritional value of everything in front of me, but still left me at a point of calorie deficit that would normally require a half-marathon to build up. As I spoke I started tearing into cupboards looking for anything that could be eaten without prep work.
"What do you mean by 'what it meant'?"
There was a pause before he replied. "Look, I know you cut us a deal on those knives, and I appreciate it. I've seen what people are saying about them online and I know we never would have been able to afford them if you had charged what they were worth."
I did my best to push past the growling of my stomach to focus on what he was saying. I mean, it was obvious really. Tinker gear didn't sell that often and even if the cost of the equipment and materials was factored in, my knives had been seen trumping power armor. Well, Kid Win tier power armor. I didn't know how they'd fare against Armsmaster's stuff. The fact was they basically negated most brute durability, at least if it wasn't force field based. That was what, striker 3? Striker 4? I'm not sure where it stood, but power like that didn't come cheap.
"Don't worry about it. I was starting out and you were mostly on small time jobs. It's not that strange to get a good deal at that point."
"No, that's not what I'm talking about."
I considered things. "Is this about the prices for future work?" I hadn't even considered that. Frankly I'd been able to coast off my initial supplies to the point where I had independent solutions to most of my logistics issues. Aside from a need for alchemy space, which I wasn't going to farm out to their boss, there wasn't much I could use the money for outside living expenses. Not without front companies or significant money laundering efforts. Actually, I might be able to handle that myself at this point, since it just meant some basic manipulation of human financial records.
I bit my tongue at that and hunted around for another quarter.
"Actually it's about what we paid for your last work." If he heard the coin drop into the jar over the phone he didn't say anything about it.
"Like, as a reference for stuff going forward?"
"No, look. With that repair thing Lisa told us what they're probably worth. I figured you were giving us a good discount. I didn't think we were paying what amounted to a rounding error on the final value." He actually sounded upset at the concept. Brian did kind of strike me as the type of person who like to deal with people in an upfront manner.
"You're upset I didn't charge you more?"
"Well, I would like to know why you didn't. I also wanted to make sure you didn't' think we'd cheated you out of the better part of a million dollars and end up trying to settle things."
"It's not a..." what he said punched through my hunger and sleep addled mind. "Seriously? That much?"
Brian sounded slightly nervous as he replied. "Probably? Even Lisa said she didn't have a good reference point for this. Thanks to those things, apparently the whole team's been rated striker three..." Ha, I was right. "...and there's not much precedent for the cost of that kind of permanent power up, so best guess was a couple hundred thousand each."
And probably significantly more for Taylor, but he wasn't bringing that up, and probably for good reason. Based on the display from her equipment I was guessing the cost for her gear would be close to the rest of the Undersiders' weapons put together.
I tested the edibility of a dry lentil as I replied. "So you're wondering why I let them go for that kind of price?" It was tough, difficult to chew, and generally unpleasant. Pretty much a food of last resort. I elected to only eat half a handful as I waited for Brian's response.
"It was a bit of a concern, yes."
I considered what I could say. Really, I had barely considered the implications when I offered to make the knives. God, that seemed like ages ago. That had been the absolute peak of my skill when I made them, now it was something barely worth the effort. That didn't seem like the best answer for Brian. I seriously doubted that lamenting on how worthless they were by my current standards would do much for his state of mind. I swallowed the last of the dry lentils and decided to take my best swing at a response.
"Honestly, I don't have a good answer for that."
"Seriously?"
"Look, I know you're used to working with Lisa and dealing with plans five levels deep on a four dimensional chessboard, so this might seem like a step down."
"She's not really that bad."
"Not my point. Really, what it came down to was I needed some starting cash and I got the sense that you would be all right to work with." Wasn't as convinced now as I had been then, but that probably wouldn't do much for his state of mind.
"That's it?"
"Pretty much? I'm not likely to offer that kind of deal again, even for you guys. Lisa's already negotiated some incredibly cheap medical coverage, and that's likely to be it for a while."
"I'm sorry, what? When?"
"Oh yeah, last night. She's probably been tied up, what with that thing with Panacea and everything. She didn't fill you in?"
"Panacea? And no, she didn't. Said she'd have an update for me later. We'll need to have a talk about the importance of sharing information."
"Well, it just happened last night. Also open communication doesn't seem like her strong suit."
"You have no idea." There was a sigh. "So you have healing tech now?"
I scanned the fridge and considered the nutritional value of possibly expired condiments. "Yeah, she worked out a deal for it. You should get the details from her."
"Oh, I will." There was a pause. "Uh, are you doing alright? You seem a bit off."
I blinked. "Right, sorry. I just woke up and I'm still a little out of it."
"Late night?"
"Actually I was trying out an experiment and it got away from me. Knocked me out for..." I checked my watch. "Jesus, six hours?"
"Uh, is everything okay?"
"Yeah, it's fine. I got them back in containment." I paused, pulled the phone away from my ear and turned to Garment. "You did get them back into containment, right?" There was an affirmative gesture. "Properly contained? In the stasis field? You didn't just lock them up somewhere, right?" Another affirmative gesture, mirrored by my motoroid to the best of its ability. A glance at the laptop showed a report from Survey of the status of the Life Fibers suspended in one of the scanning bay's stasis fields.
I pulled the phone back to my ear. "It's fine. Everything's under control." There was silence on the line. "Hello?" No response. "Brian?" I checked the status from Survey's assessment of the telecommunications network. "I know the call hasn't dropped. Is there some problem on your end, or..."
"It's fine. There's no problem at all." Brian was speaking very quickly as he answered. "I mean, if you're sure you're alright?"
I considered things. "There might be some muscle atrophy, but that's kind of expected." My stomach rumbled and I looked through my fridge again. "I'll have to manage that better, but it shouldn't be a problem in the future. So are we good?" I was probably a bit too eager to get off the call. I was already considering the nearest fast food restaurant and how big an order I could get away with without rousing suspicion. To make matters worse I missed a connection to the Magitech constellation from the Celestial Forge. Damn it, why did that constellation have so many powerful motes? Unless I had built up immense reach before it showed up there was just no way to land a connection.
"Yeah, as long as you're okay with the knife thing then we're good. I just wanted to make sure everything was on the level."
I wondered if he had to do that often when working around Tattletale. How much time did he spend sorting out her nonsense? Probably too much. There wasn't enough money in the world to get me to take his job.
And money was what this came down to. Sure, apparently I could make a million dollars' worth of tinker tech in a day, but that was market dependent. The Undersiders wouldn't have been able to afford the actual value, and anyone who could have wouldn't be paying that on a daily basis. What was the actual market for purchased powers? There was something there that my passenger was trying to hint at, but I couldn't put it together from the information I had.
I guess his main concern was that Tattletale had done something that ended up royally pissing someone off and created a situation much more dangerous than the one she had 'resolved'. It was probably a fairly common occurrence and it made sense that he would want to make sure the group didn't have a pissed off tinker after them for being cheated out of seven figures in commissions. Particularly one with inside knowledge of their base and who could probably hire any mercenary team on the planet in exchange for a few hours of tinkering work.
"The deal's the deal. You won't find me arguing about it now. Like I said, you're probably not going to get that kind of bargain again, but for this one..."
"I understand. Thanks for being above board on this."
"Right. Call me if anything comes up."
"Thanks."
I ended the call and realized that I had effectively run out of easy to access food. My options were to power through dry ingredients, take the time to actually prepare something, or completely abandon my diet and head for the nearest fast food place.
I don't think I've ever gotten changed so quickly in my life. I would guess it took less than a minute for a complete turnaround, and explanation to Garment, and I was out the door and hunting for food. There were more concerns here, both physically and what was happening with the Undersiders, but those could wait until after my stomach stopped screaming at me.
The nearest fast food place to my apartment was a tiny outlet of some third party pseudo-chain that I'm not sure even existed outside this state. It was called Burger Shed, and rather than compete with the big chains on quality, price, or service it seemed to be operating under the business model of putting outlets in areas major chains wouldn't touch. There was a certain logic to it. A McDonalds or KFC in this part of the docks would be robbed on a weekly basis. Who the hell would try to stick up Burger Shed? Yeah, the take might be roughly the same, but the place gave the impression of completely matching the destitution of the area. It was that special kind of urban camouflage that seemed to have evolved in the docks, safety by avoiding attention.
Despite being designed like it was a placeholder for a real restaurant it did have a decent menu, and fortunately almost no line. I don't think they got that much of a lunch rush, but I seemed to have just missed it. I badly wanted to place an order that would make the Fugly Bob Challenger seem like a health conscious meal, but was able to hold myself back. It wasn't like a big order would immediately point towards me being a cape, and there could be all kinds of reasons for it, I'd just prefer to maintain something of a low profile. I had just been lamenting on the importance of avoiding attention, and I could still get a decent amount of calories with a somewhat sane order.
Hey, if I got take out I could pretend to be ordering for two.
Thus I was walking back to my apartment with two jumbo shack combos with double fries and a pair of large milkshakes, the first of which I'd killed before I'm made it a block from the restaurant. Already I was feeling more clear headed. Despite the fact that I questioned whether anything approaching a milk product had been included in the shakes, they at least had enough calorie density that I no longer felt like my internal organs were digesting themselves.
With a break from the mind consuming appetite I was able to start evaluating the actual situation. My experiment with the life fibers, which was still a stupid move, had clearly taxed my system in a way that my nanites couldn't fully compensate for. Hopefully it was just a matter of metabolism and my impromptu binge would address it, but I couldn't know that until I got a look at my scans.
I entered my apartment to find Garment, my damaged motoroid, and the modified laptop all waiting for me in the kitchenette. Garment looked a little off put by my sudden departure and return, but there was nothing but blank acknowledgement from the two A.I.s.
"Sorry, whatever happened with the fibers left me starving." I considered things. "That might have been actually starving. I need to check on the effects after I eat." Garment shifted from annoyance to concern as I started wolfing down the combo meals. I think at least part of that concern was the proximity of grease and condiments to the clothing she had recently crafted. I did my best to eat carefully, despite the fact that I probably wouldn't have bothered removing the paper wrappers from the hamburgers in any other circumstance. I don't think I was even tasting half of the meal as I powered through it. If this was what life fibers did to a person's metabolism I would probably need a giant platter of fried food each night just to break even.
I glanced over at my 'work' phone as I ate. There were definitely some aspects of that conversation I could have handled better. Ok, pretty much everything about the Life Fibers experiment should have been left out. It wasn't enough to reveal anything, but I doubt it did much for Brian's piece of mind. His reaction was understandable. If I'd gotten any other power set and found out a tinker had sold me several hundred thousand dollars' worth of gear for a sliver of the price I'd also be looking for the catch. Either you were a pawn in some scheme, or you were dealing with someone notably unstable. Regrettably I think I gave the impression that it was the second one, and that wasn't too far off from the actual situation. There's no way to explain my reasoning without a full breakdown of how my powers work, and that was just not happening. I'm going to have to deal with the fact that the leader of the Undersiders now thinks he's dealing with a seriously unstable tinker.
Not a great situation, but I could work with it. At least it could buy me some breathing room. That was an interesting thought. How much of the 'deranged tinker' thing villains put on was sincere and how much was an act to keep people from constantly pestering them? If someone thought you were half a second from breaking out the death rays they probably wouldn't be too aggressive about commissions or service calls. There was probably a delicate balance to it, find a point where you were still approachable for serious matters without being constantly pestered.
That was getting kind of abstract. I had more pressing concerns, like figuring what the hell those life fibers had done to me and why I woke up ready to eat a week's worth of food in one sitting. Even after that huge meal I was still just barely sated. This seemed like the kind of situation where people would joke about hollow legs.
Fortunately I had an excellent lab with all the intrusive scanners a person could ever want, which is where I found myself with my cadre of roommates hovering around the door, and I was counting the networked copy of Survey running on the laptop in that group.
It turned out the answer to what the life fibers had done was 'a lot'. In more detail every level of augmentation they were capable of had been exercised to at least some degree during that less than consensual hug fest that Garment had saved me from. It was easy to assume life fibers just built muscle, and there was certainly some of that, but really these things were a force of evolution. There were alterations to my bones, tendons, proportions of fast twitch and slow twitch muscles, organ function, and even my peripheral nervous system. None of it was that drastic a change, but it was complex enough that the healing function of my nanites hadn't been able to fully supplement the investment, thus the excessive food cravings. I still felt like I could work my way through a couple of pizzas without much of an issue. If I did go with life fibers for physical development I'd have to throw out my diet plan and replace it with something more in line with the heightened calorie needs. With the way my digestive system was going to town on what I had eaten so far it seemed like quantity heavily outweighed quality as far as my training diet went. I had lost a good amount of body fat from the previous event and didn't want to think about what would happen if I really bottomed out.
Did I want to go forward with this plan? This lab wasn't specialized for medical work, but it had the capacity to examine biomodifications and cybernetics to such a degree that it was good enough to give me a picture of what was happening. It was a definite upgrade. I couldn't say how much, but everything indicated a slight increase in strength, durability, reflexes, endurance, and even cognitive function. There might have been some downsides to normal use, but my nanites dealt with whatever they were before the symptoms could appear. Overall the benefits were too significant to abandon this project.
I did need a way to properly moderate the level of contact, and fortunately Garment was hovering behind me while I worked. Her attention seemed to be split between my displays and the floating mass of life fibers suspended in a stasis field. With how neatly they were packed away you'd never guess they had almost taken me out of commission this morning.
"Garment? Could you help me with this?" She cautiously approached the terminal displaying holographic records of the previous encounter. I gestured towards the image. "I want to try this again."
I had never seen that particular flavor of exasperation from Garment before. She stood there and gave the sense that she was waiting for me to recognize the stupidity of my previous statement.
"Ok, I know it seems crazy." There was a flippant gesture from Garment. "But. But I know what went wrong last time. With your help I know I can do this properly."
As Garment reluctantly considered things I felt the Celestial Forge again, this time bringing the Alchemy constellation into reach. The mote I connected to was called Innate Talent: Alchemist. It considerably increased the versatility of what potions I could make. Well, it would have if not for one problem. It gave me the ability to make true instant healing potions, but also to create potion versions of any spells I knew within the system of ranked spellcasting.
I did not know any spells within the system of ranked spellcasting. I didn't even know there was a system of ranked spellcasting. Before I got this power I don't think the system of ranked spellcasting actually existed.
There was the considerable advantage in that now that I knew it existed I could theoretically learn magic. It would run on mana, an internal energy source that I would at least be able to measure and quantify with my magitek equipment. The problem was that without a teacher, reference material or any examples to draw upon it could take ages to learn a spell. I would be flying blind here. In ideal situations a talented person could learn spells at a rate of about one month per tier. Without that support infrastructure it could take several times longer, and someone without talent could take years to learn even a simple spell. I may have a good grasp on science, but I wasn't sure how much of that extended to magical principles.
The healing potions would have been enough to satisfy me, but having an entire system of magic dangled in front of me but kept just out of reach was infuriating. It would have spoiled my mood if not for one consolation from this ability. There was another mote attached to it. It effectively came with a free power on the side, one even smaller than the two I had received together from the Tookits constellation. And despite effectively being free it was unfathomably valuable to me. That was because my power had finally given me an alchemy lab.
Like my workshop it came stocked with a replenishing supply of reagents. Unlike my workshop the equipment wasn't fixed. Somehow it would upgrade itself based on my level of skill, meaning I would automatically be able to manage every form of alchemy I had already learned. If I got additional abilities or increased my skill the equipment would upgrade itself. It was incredible and made my plans to attempt to brew potions in the basement of an abandoned factory look laughable.
I had to see this.
Garment seem to have realized something had happened because she had broken out of her contemplative posture and was making inquisitive gestures at me.
"Oh, new power. Alchemy, you know, potion making? This one came with a lab. Want to see it?"
There was moderate excitement from Garment, possibly because I was shifting focus to something less likely to get me killed. I exited the Laboratorium with Garment. Fleet's motoroid trailed after us, cradling the laptop running a copy of Survey in its damaged arms. I really needed to deal with those. At least it could move normally inside the workshop rather than that 'thin ice' shuffle it hab been doing in the apartment to keep from damaging the floor.
It was kind of impressive that it had figured that out on its own. Both A.I.s would be getting close to the limits of their original parameters pretty soon. If I waited until I got a new power as a trigger for their growth I could tie upgrades to an undetectable event and keep precogs blind to the development of my A.I.s. It would also let them have a steady growth rate, so I wouldn't feel like I was lobotomizing or brutally shackling them.
My entry room remained unchanged from the last time I had seen it, so there was a serious question of where the alchemy lab was. Checking the workshop door quickly answered that question.
Essentially the alchemy lab had been added next to the workshop. The space had been shuffled around to create a small hallway/entry space with doors to each of the workplaces. On the left was my metal workshop and on the right was the monstrosity that was my alchemist's laboratory.
Monstrosity might have sounded like an overdramatic term, but I couldn't think of a better word for it. The space was massive, not as bad as my Laboratorium but easily more than twice the size of my workshop. The truly monstrous part of it came from how it seemed to interpret the clause about upgrading equipment based on skill level.
My proficiency with alchemy was all over the place, and that was fully represented in the laboratory. I had basic chemistry knowledge from my own education, which was supplemented by my intelligence boosting powers. I now had four different alchemy powers which ranged from alchemy in name only to very specific potion brewing to full on Frankenstein-esk life creation. On top of that I had Master Builder and Grease Monkey which, while not specifically alchemy centric, did include a lot of chemistry knowledge, even if Master Builder treated organic interactions as something of a novelty.
To describe the end result imagine taking a set of a third rate occult horror film, a chemistry lab, an oil refinery, and a herbalist shop, and cramming them all into the engine room of a science fiction spacecraft. That was roughly what I was looking at. There was a ritual space set up bordering energized chemical conduits which ran above an array of impeccably crafted alembics and retorts. Distillation columns shared space with bags of dried reagents and runic plates. The entire place was a mess of contradicting applications.
Garment certainly seemed to think so as she wandered through the new addition to my workshop, poking the occasional piece of equipment or raw ingredient with clear apprehension. Her attitude suddenly changed when she reached a corner of the lab. Excitedly she waved me over. It took me a moment to figure out what had her so excited.
"Oh, right. It makes sense that dyeing would be included in this stuff."
From Garment's posture it was clear she did not appreciate my lack of enthusiasm over this discovery. It was a fairly impressive set up that could easily accomplish a pretty complex array of resist dyeing and other techniques. That didn't exactly align with any of my alchemical knowledge, but it made sense under Decadence or one of my other aesthetic powers.
"I should probably sort this out properly. Do you want to..." I didn't even get to finish my sentence before Garment began gathering up the equipment and scouting out the ideal location for it. The whole project ended up as a rough repeat of my realignment of the workshop, and once again my interior design power came through. In the end I managed to turn the random mess of a chemical workshop into something both functional and somewhat aesthetically pleasing. Shifting some of the heavier equipment did require a rushed repair of my motoroid, and I wasn't at the point of running new conduits, so the piping had to be worked around. Still, it was at least a functional workspace by the end of it. I was even able to get the first of my potions brewing. It was bubbling in a beaker that belched blue smoke and smelled like a cabinet of cleaning supplies, but this place actually had proper ventilation so I didn't have to worry about asphyxiating myself.
I moved over to the workspace that Garment had claimed with the confidence and determination of a British colonialist. She had already done an inventory of equipment and was digging into some of her discretionary budget to improve the stock of available dyes. She had been working some intricate pattern into a scarf and seemed to be considering adding another layer to the design when I approached. Upon seeing me she excitedly presented the item.
"Very nice work." She beamed. "Garment, about the life fibers…" Her attitude shifted immediately, the enthusiasm draining out of her. "Garment, it's important. It's the kind of thing that could make a huge difference out there."
She looked contemplative and gestured for me to continue.
"Something bad is coming. Something dangerous for the city and everyone in it. If I'm not ready I can only guess how bad things could get. The life fibers? They could make the difference. They could get me ready for a fight I wouldn't be able to handle otherwise. Even if all they do is save me the training time that might allow enough extra crafting to make the difference."
She looked conflicted and made an uneasy gesture.
"I know they're dangerous. I don't think I can do this safely without you, but I think I need to try it. Can you help me with this?"
There were some uneasy motions as she considered things. Unlike previous requests this didn't come with a demand for payment or extra privileges for her. No, what she wanted took a lot more effort to communicate.
Which is why when we finally assembled in the Laboratorium I was wearing four additional pieces of protective equipment. My current load out included my original hyperalloy shin guard. At Garment's insistence it had been joined by its counterpart on my other leg, this one carrying a plate of the most chemically inert material possible. If anything happened its reinforcement would be able to intercept any reactive effects of the life fibers. Similarly my bracer had been rebuilt into a precision matrix of reinforced metal with enough compression resistance that all the force the life fibers could exert wouldn't be able to even dent my skin. My opposite shoulder was sporting a small pauldron of a rather complicated alloy of heavy metals and rare earth elements that should be able to resist the insane radiation the fibers could put out. Finally I had a chest plate of a seriously thermally resistant ceramic that I'd had to nanoforge. There was no chance of the fibers burning me or anything I was wearing this time.
All together it was an excessive amount of protection, especially with Garment managing the fibers, but she had insisted. She wouldn't go forward until I could show I had accounted for every warning displayed on the earlier analysis. She also insisted on the five extra-large pizzas that were stacked next to the sensor bay where we were conducting the test. That was one part I was more in favor of since I'd pretty much cleared out the kitchenette in my earlier binge.
Finally she was satisfied that I wasn't likely to kill myself and consented to begin the test. I rolled up my right sleeve and held out the arm. The stasis field around the fibers deactivated and Garment floated the spool over to me. Slowly she drew out the glowing red strand and assembled it in a cross work above my skin. At my signal she carefully lowered it to make contact.
There was the blast of energy again, but this time there was no movement from the fibers even as they lit up. I checked the readout for the status of my biometrics. The additional safeguards were definitely mitigating some of the damaging effects, but mostly it was Garment's ability to moderate the intensity of the contact. With access to the scanner I could see the alterations caused by exposure to the fibers. Most of them were clearly temporary and sustained by the energy they were giving off, but some had permanent effects. Mostly simple stress based growth, but there were indications of ongoing developments like I had gotten hints of earlier. Life fibers seemed to want their host in the best shape possible, even if that required borderline bioengineering.
At my signal Garment pulled the fibers back and returned them to the stasis field. I felt the exhaustion hit as the energy dissipated and activated my nanites to try to compensate. With the scanner active I could see the effects in real time. Conventional damage was repaired but the serious advancements were too complicated for the nanites to compensate for. I felt a gurgle in my stomach and instinctively gravitated towards the pizza boxes. That was a very good call from Garment, even if I had gotten a weird look from the delivery guy. Still, a questioning glance from a random pizza employee is better than drawing attention from my neighbors, like the burger shop feast could have done.
As I worked my way through the pie I felt the Celestial forge again, this time connecting to a small mote from the Toolkits constellation. The result of this connection truly proved that I had no idea how any of this was supposed to work. I foolishly thought the Toolkits constellation contained tools. Well, tools and facilities for crafting things. Sure I had gotten the Life Fiber Spool from clothing, but that was an outlier. Garment also, but it wasn't like she counted as a tool. Then Alchemy had rolled around and given me an entire chemical laboratory. Once again, a bit of an outlier. Then this mote came along and blew all my conceptions out of the water. For what it was worth it was called Class: Engineer, Specialization: Mechanic. It sounded a lot more innocuous than it was.
I mean, I could see why this was in the Toolkits constellation. I got a wonderful tool from it. I also got a suit of armor, a pistol, and various other supplies. The serious thing was that I also got the skill and, more importantly, the experience in how to use all that equipment.
Like with Master Builder I had gotten an entire life worth of experience from this one minor power. Thankfully it wasn't from an inhuman perspective, but it was close. It was a complete set of training and experience in how to be a military space engineer. It wasn't the technical stuff that was bothering me. Sure there were new technologies, new principles of physics, and new applications to deal with. Despite the volume of it I could actually handle it pretty well, probably because I already had so much of it that new technical information just wasn't that disruptive anymore. No, it was everything else that was the problem.
I had military training. I knew elementary marksmanship and weapon discipline. I had the experience of basic training and how to function in a unit. I knew, like from personal experience, how to use the new skills I had just picked up in a combat situation. I knew how to be dangerous with the gear I'd been given.
The primary and most important piece of this was my omni-tool. It was amazing and something I would have loved to get my hands on ages ago. It was a wrist mounted combination of a super computer and micro fabricator. It was absolutely incredible in its utility, but even more so in its military applications, and the model I'd been given was fully combat ready. In addition to the horrifying potential of fabricating weapons mid battle it could also disrupt other technology, discharge incendiaries, or even launch drones at opponents. And that wasn't even getting into the hacking and ECM applications.
But this wasn't raw information. It was like I'd been trained to do it. Like I had personal experience on the battlefield, except I couldn't give any details about what I'd done. It was experience without context and the contradiction was maddening.
It didn't hit me like Master Builder had, but there was enough of a reaction that Garment was becoming concerned. I waved her off, making sure to keep the half eaten slice of pizza in my hand well away from her dress.
"I'm okay. It's just a new power. Hit me pretty hard. Uh, I got some new stuff from it that I should check out soon." She calmed substantially. Huh, I had both my micromanipulators and omni-tool. I was just racking up high precision crafting items today.
I needed to get away from the sense that I was suddenly a veteran, so I focused on the readings from the experiment. Everything I'd been looking for was there in addition to the more esoteric developments being introduced. None of those were negative, just something I would need to account for. I can only imagine how crazy a world that actually evolved under the influence of life fibers would be.
Still, it was a tragedy that I couldn't utilize the energy of the life fibers. It was simply tremendous. It could easily take a person to the level of a mid-tier brute, and that was ignoring the side benefits of life fiber exposure. The problem was the detriments of life fiber exposure. It was easy to see why an entire alternate skill set was required to manage this kind of thing. Without a regulatory medium exposure would be a none-too-slow death sentence for anyone without innate restoration abilities that ignored physical limits. Even with my nanites working full blast to restore the damage I still couldn't utilize the power the fibers granted because I couldn't overpower the damn things. The only ways I could see this working would be to basically lobotomize them, somehow advance them enough that you could strike an accord, or come up with some way to overpower them. But good luck finding someone who could pull that off.
My eyes settled on Garment, white gloves and red evening dress, casually examining the glowing red spool.
That was an idea.
Was it a good idea? At the very least it was probably a better idea than most of the ones I'd had today.
"Garment?" She perked up. "First, thank you for your help. And for saving me last night. I couldn't have done any of this without you." She gave a bashful wave. "But I just had an idea that might make a really big difference."
She looked closer as I pulled up the readings. "The life fibers give an incredible amount of power, but I can't use it because I have no way to control them." She made a 'go on' gesture. "Right, so I would have to limit myself to conditioning. Maybe it would eventually let me use them properly, maybe not. But then I had an idea."
I pulled up the record of the test. "See how you were able to moderate the shape of the life fibers when they were in contact with my skin?" She made an affirmative gesture. "If you could do that as I move around, then I would be able to use close to the full power of the fibers without getting restrained." I turned the hologram towards Garment. "Do you think you can handle it?"
Garment seemed to be considering things, then slowly made a negative gesture. I slumped, but she signaled for me to wait. As I watched she mimed pulling off one of her gloves and offered it to me.
"You can do it if I have your gloves with me? Like the other night?" She made another negative gesture, then pulled the glove back on. "If I'm wearing your gloves?"
There was an exuberant expression from Garment. I sat back and thought about things. I had spent so much time with Garment being Garment I had nearly forgotten the core utility of her gloves. If you wore them she could share her skills, if not her power, with you. It was how we planned to work on my new costume. It made sense that it would give her a better sense of the person she was working with, it was just such a different concept that I hadn't even considered it.
I looked at the readings, then at Garments enthusiasm. We were planning on doing this anyway, and for something a lot less important than this. Why was I feeling apprehensive? Maybe I had gotten to like thinking about Garment as her own entity rather than another tool of the Celestial Forge. Using her like this somehow felt like it was cheapening what she represented.
Still, she seemed excited about this. If I was going to handle what this city could throw at me I would need all the power I could get. If she didn't have a problem did my hang-ups really matter? Well, they did, but I could deal with them.
"Alright, let's do it."
Garment actually jumped in excitement. Still, it wasn't as simple as just diving into things. Even with the security precautions we needed to plan out the experiment properly. Without decent data there would be no point to this. Additionally, reviewing the previous experiment and the records from before I passed out led to another conclusion.
"Okay, so to minimize contact and avoid buildup of heat, steam, or life fiber energy I need to minimize the amount of coverage, both from the fibers and other clothing." Garment made a gesture of assent.
"Yes, I get that, but this is plenty. There's no cause for or benefit to going further than this." Garment plainly pointed at the display showing the additional 7.35% improvement in energy moderation and sensor coverage that could be gained.
"I can see that, but it's within acceptable limits for safety and data coverage." Not to mention other coverage. In response Garment pointed at me with both index fingers, then pointed sharply to the ground.
"Garment, the underwear stays on. That's final." Garment seemed annoyed, but relented and made a casual gesture towards me.
There was a slicing sound as new seams appeared on the last item of clothing I was wearing and significant portions of it fell away. Let's just say my boxer-briefs lost all of their boxer and became considerably more brief. I was left with an amount of clothing that would only be appropriate attire on European beaches. Garment was proudly indicating how energy moderation and sensor coverage had improved by a whole 4.83%.
God damn the Laboratorium was drafty.
With her final alteration complete Garment approached me in the scanning bay next to the life fiber spool. My current outfit consisted of my boots, five pieces of armor, and the remnants of my underwear. If I had been more buff and attractive I could have passed for the cover of one of those garbage romance novels, or one of those sword and sorcery books from the early eighties. I'm beginning to see why those books always took place somewhere warm or tropical.
Garment stood in front of me and raised her gloves, palms forward. I gingerly returned the gesture and she pressed her palms into mine. She shifted slightly to line up the tips of our fingers, and then the gloves began to turn inside out, folding over my hands.
I watched the progression as they folded off her 'arms' and 'hands' and slid down over my own. As I watched her dress was carefully folded across a computer altar and her shoes were set aside. That was only a loose distraction from the connection I was feeling.
Suddenly I KNEW fashion. I mean, I had known how to make things look good. I could control aesthetics to a near supernatural level. My crafting abilities extended broadly enough that I could have made almost any item of clothing to incredible precision. I thought I knew what I was doing. I was wrong.
With the knowledge at my disposal I could look at an item of clothing and pick apart every aspect from the fabric to the way it hung from the body. I knew how it would make the person wearing it feel, how to influence the reactions of the people who saw them, how it would affect every aspect of their daily life in ways they would barely notice but live with all the same.
And that was just the high level stuff. I could understand every possible interaction of thread, fabric, seams, cut, and accessories. I could design on a level I never imagined and it was only the faintest sliver of how Garment saw the world every day.
I suddenly had a slightly better understanding of why she had trouble focusing on a keyboard.
I shook my head clear and concentrated on the test. I flexed my fingers in Garment's gloves, getting a feel for them. There was the slightest resistance in response, just enough to signal that she was still there.
I signaled Fleet and the motoroid disabled the stasis field around the spool of life fibers. Instead of dropping it floated towards me. Even with the link to Garment I couldn't direct her powers, but I could vaguely feel them. She pulled on the glowing red thread and it began to unspool, slowly at first then accelerating to an incredible speed. It wasn't flowing into a tangled mess either. Garment was weaving it into a complex mesh of red lines that were pulled to float just above the surface of my skin. I was so transfixed by the spectacle I barely noticed the Celestial Forge missing a connection to the Alchemy constellation.
Eventually the entire mass of fibers was floating just out of contact with my body. Garment had spun it into a tight pattern that looked slightly Celtic and wrapped it so that the coverage would be mostly even. I swallowed my apprehension and gave Garment a slight nod.
The entire mass crashed down on me at once. I felt the surge of energy as well as the concerning drain on vitality. For my part I focused and activated every nanite I could. It was easier than it had been before, probably because of the military discipline that I was trying not to think about. Anyway, I could manage my nanites and still remain mostly functional, though I probably wouldn't be up for any delicate work.
Experimentally I slowly raised an arm. Despite being covered in life fibers it flexed freely. I had a loose sense of Garment directing them along with my movements to keep them from restraining me. I tried a faster motion and swept my arm across my body.
The movement was a blur and the wind of its passing shook cyber skulls and almost blew Garment's dress off the altar. That was more force then I anticipated. I considered halting the test to look at the current data, but decided I hadn't come this far just to back off now.
I tensed my legs and jumped. Seriously jumped. I probably would have hit the celling if not for the state of my reflexes allowing me to flip in midair and spring off like a rebounding basketball. I dove headfirst into the ground before handspringing back into the air with just enough force to launch me half way to the ceiling. I had a perfect view of the cathedral like space before the hang time ran out and I plummeted again. This time I was able to turn the landing into a roll and then a run. It was barely a run as my walking pace seemed blindingly fast. In even more blatant disregard for the laws of physics I angled myself towards one of the walls and started strolling up it with the speed of a formula one racecar.
I may have been humming the baseline to Fleetwood Mac's The Chain as I moved. Sue me, my foot steps were perfectly matching the rhythm of the song.
I was phenomenally lucky to have this kind of space to play with. Most new capes would be messing around in the boat graveyard or one of the abandoned warehouses, and that was just asking for trouble. Meanwhile I got to parkour across gothic architecture without a flight to Europe or annoying any historical conservationists. It really was exhilarating, even if I got the sense that some of the skulls were less than thrilled with the way I was treating some of the icons as springboards.
They were the only ones annoyed by this. I was legitimately having the time of my life. Between the rush of energy of the life fibers, which was like a runner's high times a million, and the superhero tier acrobatics this may have been the best time I'd had since getting my powers. Garment seemed to be enjoying herself as well, at least as much as I could tell. It was certainly no challenge for her to manage the life fibers, even at the speed I was moving. She even shifted the designs around, possibly for more even coverage, possibly just to exercise her creativity. Amazingly it seemed like even the life fibers were enjoying themselves.
I had limited feedback from them, but I was drowning in activated nanites at the moment so there was a level of connection. The drives I had picked up before, connect, feed, grow, they were all there, but there was also something else. I hesitated to call it joy, but there was definitely a sense that it was good to be moving, good to not be contained or dormant any more. I had no idea what it meant for the fiber's development, but at least it wasn't malicious.
Actually, nothing from the fibers had ever been malicious. Dangerous, sure. They were definitely dangerous, but they just weren't advanced enough to have malice behind their actions. Maybe that was a good sign, or maybe it would change. I couldn't say, but at the very least it was one less red flag to worry about.
And when I was nearly flying around my private cyber cathedral with the strength of a superhero it was hard to come up with things to worry about. Actually, scratch that. There was one thing. The same thing I was worried about when I woke up. I was getting really, really hungry.
It seemed to have taken longer to build up, but it was gaining steam. As I understood it my nanites could handle basic needs, but some of the exotic effects were too much for them, so that stuck through and suddenly I was desperate for food. As the hunger crept up so did a million other doubts, including a seriously self-conscious feeling about my current attire. Suddenly jumping back and forth in scraps of armor, immodest underwear, and a mesh of red thread with glowing blue circuit lines on my skin seemed somewhat bizarre.
God damn it, I was supposed to be using life fibers properly, not running around nearly naked in a ridiculous battle costume.
I took a pair of bounding leaps and landed back in my original scanning bay. With a signal to Garment the fibers pulled themselves off me and neatly spooled themselves up. A quick signal to Fleet and the stasis field was reactivated.
I was worn out, but not to the extent I had been previously. The pizza was calling to me, but first I needed to get Garment. Not really knowing what to do I held my hands back in the position she had indicated before. Slowly the gloves peeled themselves off my hands, turning right side out as they went. When they finished the gloved hands were pressed against mine. I turned my back as Garment started to mime putting on her dress again. I would probably never get used to that. It just felt too intrusive.
Instead I dove into another pizza and was two thirds of the way through it by the time Garment finished getting 'dressed'. The data was roughly what I had expected, enhanced strength, agility and general physical abilities. There was one factor I hadn't seen coming.
The mass of the fibers had increased by 12.325% from their first measurement.
My interactions, the energy they were drawing from me? It was feeding the fibers. They were growing. I had no idea what the end result would be, and if I didn't have Garment I would probably be pretty concerned about the entire situation. Still, more mass meant more complexity. It might mean the chance to develop sapience, and then actual communication, not this rough empathy stuff I'd been groping at so far.
I didn't need to worry about the life fibers. I had a much more pressing concern. Garment wanted to change the design of my costume.
"No. Absolutely not. That was a test environment, not the basis for a new style." Garment seemed to pout as she presented yet another sketch of an outfit design that would have done Frank Frazetta proud. Considering how much she loved clothing it was odd how keenly she seemed to be latching onto the idea of minimalist design.
"Look, wide weave fibers in any of these select materials will facilitate enough ventilation and prevent absorption of the life fiber energy. It will be perfectly safe while still being fully concealing." Garment seemed to look down at her sketches, then over at the disassembled costume, then at my calculations. Grimly she seemed to accept my decision and trudged off, pencil in hand.
I shook my head. I hated to disappoint her, but there were certain conventions I just wasn't ready to accept in terms of my cape identity. I was at a highly unstable time where anything I did could be held against me forever. Now was not the time for stylistic experimentation.
I listened to the scratch of pencil on page as I worked on my own project. Micromanipulators were amazing devices, but unfortunately too bulky to be used along with the haptic interface for my omni-tool. This would have been a serious problem for anyone without the blanket ability to merge technology. Thus the product of my latest work, the hybrid omni-tool/micromanipulator. It was incredible really. Not only was the interface so much more precise in terms of controlling the output and setting design parameters, but the tools it could create could now be used with micron precision, and that's not even getting into the combat applications.
There were a few other things I worked to get out of the way as Garment finished her design. I had retrieved the complete potion from my alchemy lab. The first potion I had even created. It was capable of generating two copies of myself that would last for about seven or eight minutes, or until they were damaged. Mainly I would use it to let me generate additional call beads without depleting my alchemy reagents, but it would also be interesting to finally see exactly how the duplication worked.
I had also completed a brief interface with my computer core and expanded my A.I.'s parameters slightly. It wasn't much, but the growth should be unpredictable if I did it each time I got a new power and it would provide steady, consistent development. Both programs were mostly optimizing within a partitioned section of the core and operating the motoroid or laptop with truncated versions of themselves. I took some time to offer assistance and optimization advice as I increased their allotment of resources and growth boundaries.
They were coming along nicely. Survey should be able to facilitate a basic voice interface soon and Fleet's ground travel modeling had progressed better than I had hoped. I'm not sure if it could handle bipedal combat, but complex navigation was already well within its capabilities. I also had slated for a complete rework of the motoroid's systems now that I had the omni-tool and micromanipulators to facilitate things.
On that topic I'd been able to test my diagnostic scanner on both my micromanipulators and all the equipment I had gotten from Class: Engineer, though thanks to my weird experience I already had a seriously through understanding of that gear. The scanner was significantly less accurate than the Laboratorium, but was actually extremely adept for identifying damage and understanding programing. Its ability to discern the workings of advanced tech was a bit lacking, but its portability made up for it. I was considering hybridizing it with a heads up display or sensor visor of some kind, but I hadn't committed to a decision yet.
The new equipment was a bit of a conundrum, as was the technology behind it. Most of it was conventional and meshed nicely with the rest of my knowledge base, but all the advanced functions were based on a single exotic material. I seemed to be running into that problem fairly often. The best tech for Master Builder was locked behind access to cybertonium. I could do incredible things with my physics skill power, but the higher level stuff required quantum paired crystalized lithium to manage antimatter and higher dimensional effects, a kind of di-lithium crystal. Still, as complex as those were they paled in comparison to the basis of this new technology.
Everything was built around Element Zero. Yeah, neutron matter. Cybertonium could be artificially engineered, but it required the precise use of nuclear decay as part of its production. Paired crystalized lithium could form naturally in areas of enough spatial distortion. Element Zero needed a supernova. I might eventually be able to produce some of it with alchemical transmutation, but it would be so difficult that it would make my other metamaterials projects look like child's play. Until then I was limited to what was included in the equipment my power had provided.
I was deliberately avoiding thinking about that project as I stared at an open page on one of the spare laptops. The laptop was completely redundant with the better computer options I had at my disposal, but I felt like doing this step on a conventional PC. Now that I had my omni-tool I even had a portable computer that wasn't an embarrassment on the level of the rest of this human junk.
I got up, went to the kitchen and put a quarter into the jar. Did I need to expand the jar's use for my military memories? They weren't a problem yet, but I could see them causing some issues.
When I got back I continued staring at the page. This was a serious concern, and one I'd been struggling with for a long time. I wasn't sure how to approach it, but this seemed like a good step. If it wouldn't completely address the problem it could at least provide a counter point for if things got out of hand.
I was distracted from my contemplation by the Celestial Forge moving again. It was the Clothing constellation and connected to a mote as large as any I had secured. When I felt the link I understood why. The mote wasn't that individually powerful, but the implications of what I could do with it were staggering.
It was called The Flock's Fleece. Its most basic function was the ability to create clothing. Since I had experienced Garment's skill first hand I had more respect for what that phrase meant, but this was still significant. Tools were nearly unnecessary, as was just about every step between raw material and finished clothing. And wondrous clothing at that. Not only could I make beautiful clothes from raw wool, leather, or any other base material, but I could enhance them beyond what was conventionally possible. Anything I made would keep whoever wore it comfortable in any environment on the surface of the earth, from the middle of the Sahara to the depths of Antarctica. It would also protect them physically, probably not to the point of being bullet proof, but definitely stab proof and probably bullet resistant.
It wasn't the kind of power that increased my own combat potential, or brought any serious utility. The armoring would stack, but was so minor compared to my reinforcement that it was barely noteworthy. The environmental resistance was nice, but hardly worth a power of this magnitude. No, the significance of this was the fact that I could keep anywhere from a large city to a small civilization in supernaturally enhanced clothing for a trivial amount of effort and resources.
Given how this power basically turned me into a human textile factory and considering how fast Garment could already work it was staggering to consider what we would be able to accomplish together. That is, providing she finally abandoned this barbarian chic idea.
I prayed for that to be the case when I saw her approaching with another sketch. Fortunately it was more conventional, largely in line with her earlier design, but with white paneling added to compliment the gloves. Her gloves. It was weird to think we could end up working together like that.
She seemed happy at my reaction, but made a quizative gesture towards the screen.
"Oh, I'm thinking about setting up an account." I turned to the laptop as she looked over my shoulder at the PHO signup page. "I figure it might be a counter point if they try to stick me with a bad cape name. I mean, it's not guaranteed, but it's a shot."
She made an encouraging motion towards the list I had been working on. It wasn't comprehensive or even particularly creative. I still had no idea for a theme. My best idea had been to go with something vague and hope for the best. A couple of names had been crossed off due to being in use, and a couple more had been eliminated on further consideration. I was almost down to a selection, but was still a mess of nerves over it. There was one name I was leaning towards, and it was something I had remembered from my college days.
My first year geometry professor had been a serious career mathematician. He was the kind of person who went on about how mathematics was the only 'true language' and never missed an opportunity to talk about how he'd read Euclid's Elements in the original Greek. The only thing that kept him from being insufferable was his sincerity about the importance of the material and how passionate he was to share it. Honestly, dropping random Greek terms and facts about the development of mathematics was a decent way of keeping the class engaged.
There was one word that had stuck with me, largely because I hadn't heard it before or since. The word meant 'unlimited', but in a fundamentally different sense from infinite. Specifically, it translated to 'without boundary'. There was something I liked about it on principle.
There's a split among capes as to whether you should have a meaningful name, or something completely separate from your abilities. The shift seemed to happen between junior capes and experienced ones. Capes just starting out wanted their abilities fully on display. I'm pretty sure someone would try to call themselves "Captain-Firehands-that-I-can-direct-after-I-shoot-the-blasts-but-not-when-it's-raining-Man". Experienced capes wanted to get as far away from anything that would expose their capacities as they could. Alexandria was probably the best example of this, since the fact that she had perfect memory and started out as 'The Library of Alexandria' was pretty much regulated to obscure cape trivia at this point.
What I liked about this possibility was it did both. It was vague and epic sounding while also being indicative of my power, but all it revealed was the lack of limits. Even if someone understood what it meant there was pretty much no tactical advantage to that bit of information. I had checked it, both on cape sites to make sure the name was open and a Greek translator to make sure I had the spelling and definition correct.
"What do you think about this for my cape name?" I pointed at the top of the list. Garment reviewed it and gave an enthusiastic motion. I still wasn't sure how up to date she was on culture or society, but she had a pretty good sense for how things fit together. Plus I needed to commit to something before the PRT made a public statement. They had been tied up with today's Ward debut, but that wouldn't occupy the press forever. If I wanted to avoid something ominous and mythological I would need to take a step forward. A PHO account wasn't a guarantee, but it was movement in the right direction. I confirmed the name and opened my account.
Welcome to the Parahumans Online message boards.
You are currently logged in, Apeiron
You are viewing:
• Threads you have replied to (0)
• AND Threads that have new replies (0)
• OR private message conversations with new replies (0)
• Thread OP is displayed.
• Ten posts per page
• Last ten messages in private message history.
• Threads and private messages are ordered chronologically.
Garment gave me an approving gesture, then indicated towards her sketch. The day had been draining away and I needed to get cracking if I was going to finish my projects before my appointment.
"Alright. Let's get started."
Jumpchain abilities this chapter:
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.
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.
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.
I floated back to consciousness slowly, trying to piece my way through the soft and fuzzy feelings clouding my senses. It took me longer than it should have to figure out that the feelings weren't artifacts of my mind, but rather physical parts of my surroundings. I was in bed. I was in a version of my bed that was a great deal softer and more comfortable what than I was used to. I blinked away the last of the sleep from my eyes and sat up in the dim light of my workshop entryway.
In addition to new sheets, new blankets and new pillows I was also in new pajamas. Really well made new pajamas, which meant Garment had put me to bed after that stupid mess with the life fibers. There was a flash of panic at that. I hadn't exactly been able to get things safely stored away before I had ignobly collapsed. Then again, it seemed if anyone could keep a handle on those things it was Garment. The idea of Garment putting me to bed complete with custom made pajamas was a little weird, but I had another pressing concern that was overriding ever one of those worries. A concern serious enough to drag me away from what seemed like the most comfortable bed I had ever experienced in my life.
I was absolutely starving.
Seriously, I don't remember the last time I had been this desperate for food. My mouth was watering just at the prospect of some of the cardboard flavored health food I'd been subsisting on since my trigger. I was so desperate for anything to eat that it felt like I was being dragged towards the workshop door solely by the will of my stomach.
When I pulled the door open I saw garment sitting at my old desk with her laptop active in front of her. My motoroid was sitting on the floor next to her, its robot form, its arms now ending in a shattered mess. I would have to deal with that. After food. The Celestial Forge missed a connection to the toolkits constellation as I stumbled into my apartment.
Garment jumped up as soon as I entered and rushed over. I waved her off as I pushed through to the kitchenette. "Yes, thanks. Really, really starving. Talk later."
That didn't stop her from hovering after me as I stumbled through the overly narrow shape of my apartment. My motoroid was attempting to follow as well, but between its missing hands and the magnitude of its weight compared to the durability of the apartment floor it moved significantly more cautiously than Garment.
I wrenched open the door of my small refrigerator and frantically searched for anything with nutritional value. Taste, texture, and freshness were completely irrelevant at this point. All I wanted was something technically eatable that I could get into my body.
Fun fact; if you're hungry enough yogurt counts as a beverage, and when properly motivated it is indeed possible to shotgun a family sized container in one go.
I'm not sure if Garment was concerned by the fact that I was powering through every piece of food I had that was technically edible without needing to be cooked. Generally she seemed to be happy I was on my feet and only expressed unease when I was attempting to consume something that put the new pajamas at risk of serious staining. I had reached the point where I was seriously considering if lentils could be eaten raw when the ring of my cellphone brought me back to my senses.
The first thing that jumped into my head was the fact that I had a therapy appointment today. I had diligently not been thinking about it since Dr. Campbell had called to confirm and I had a brief flash of panic at the prospect that I might have overslept and missed it. That was resolved and replaced with a whole new level of concern as I realized the situation.
It wasn't my personal phone. It was my 'work' phone.
I quickly grabbed it from the shelf. Unlike my civilian phone the rebuilt power cell would last for weeks, so it didn't need to live on a charger. I saw Brian's number on the display and quickly answered.
"Hello?" I tried to keep my voice level. There were all kinds of horrible things that this could involve. The best case scenario was a business call for more tinkering work, but that would be fairly short notice. I really hoped they weren't calling in emergency medical services already.
"Joe?" Brian's voice wasn't panicked, but there was a bit of unease to it. "Uh, I just wanted to let you know, that thing you said would happen happened."
God, I was too hungry for this coded language stuff. "Look, you can talk straight. I've secured this line against anything short of a surveillance tinker. Actually..." I gestured to Garment and she brought over her laptop. A few commands to Survey got me an inside look at the telecom network. "...yeah, we're clear of that. If anyone's listening it's not through the phone company."
There was a pause before he spoke. "Right. Well, the knife you made? It just fixed itself. I was watching it and the blade showed back up out of nowhere."
That made sense. I focused on its location. I wasn't getting two readings any more, just one in the direction of the Undersiders' base. I hoped that half of the knife disappearing from the protectorate headquarters wouldn't cause any problems. It probably wouldn't help with that 'actually a shaker' misconception, but at this point that was more their problem than mine.
"Oh, good. Guess this means you'll be missing out on that kitchen set."
"Yeah..." his voice trailed off. "About that. I wanted to ask you about the knives."
"Is there something wrong with them?" There shouldn't be. I mean, they had been a rush job and they weren't my best work, particularly by my current standards, but they should be completely functional.
"No, that's not it." There was another pause. "Look, I talked with Lisa about this. She told me what it meant if the knives held up like you said, with the repair thing."
I was still ferociously hungry. My early binge had pulled me back from the point where I was questioning the nutritional value of everything in front of me, but still left me at a point of calorie deficit that would normally require a half-marathon to build up. As I spoke I started tearing into cupboards looking for anything that could be eaten without prep work.
"What do you mean by 'what it meant'?"
There was a pause before he replied. "Look, I know you cut us a deal on those knives, and I appreciate it. I've seen what people are saying about them online and I know we never would have been able to afford them if you had charged what they were worth."
I did my best to push past the growling of my stomach to focus on what he was saying. I mean, it was obvious really. Tinker gear didn't sell that often and even if the cost of the equipment and materials was factored in, my knives had been seen trumping power armor. Well, Kid Win tier power armor. I didn't know how they'd fare against Armsmaster's stuff. The fact was they basically negated most brute durability, at least if it wasn't force field based. That was what, striker 3? Striker 4? I'm not sure where it stood, but power like that didn't come cheap.
"Don't worry about it. I was starting out and you were mostly on small time jobs. It's not that strange to get a good deal at that point."
"No, that's not what I'm talking about."
I considered things. "Is this about the prices for future work?" I hadn't even considered that. Frankly I'd been able to coast off my initial supplies to the point where I had independent solutions to most of my logistics issues. Aside from a need for alchemy space, which I wasn't going to farm out to their boss, there wasn't much I could use the money for outside living expenses. Not without front companies or significant money laundering efforts. Actually, I might be able to handle that myself at this point, since it just meant some basic manipulation of human financial records.
I bit my tongue at that and hunted around for another quarter.
"Actually it's about what we paid for your last work." If he heard the coin drop into the jar over the phone he didn't say anything about it.
"Like, as a reference for stuff going forward?"
"No, look. With that repair thing Lisa told us what they're probably worth. I figured you were giving us a good discount. I didn't think we were paying what amounted to a rounding error on the final value." He actually sounded upset at the concept. Brian did kind of strike me as the type of person who like to deal with people in an upfront manner.
"You're upset I didn't charge you more?"
"Well, I would like to know why you didn't. I also wanted to make sure you didn't' think we'd cheated you out of the better part of a million dollars and end up trying to settle things."
"It's not a..." what he said punched through my hunger and sleep addled mind. "Seriously? That much?"
Brian sounded slightly nervous as he replied. "Probably? Even Lisa said she didn't have a good reference point for this. Thanks to those things, apparently the whole team's been rated striker three..." Ha, I was right. "...and there's not much precedent for the cost of that kind of permanent power up, so best guess was a couple hundred thousand each."
And probably significantly more for Taylor, but he wasn't bringing that up, and probably for good reason. Based on the display from her equipment I was guessing the cost for her gear would be close to the rest of the Undersiders' weapons put together.
I tested the edibility of a dry lentil as I replied. "So you're wondering why I let them go for that kind of price?" It was tough, difficult to chew, and generally unpleasant. Pretty much a food of last resort. I elected to only eat half a handful as I waited for Brian's response.
"It was a bit of a concern, yes."
I considered what I could say. Really, I had barely considered the implications when I offered to make the knives. God, that seemed like ages ago. That had been the absolute peak of my skill when I made them, now it was something barely worth the effort. That didn't seem like the best answer for Brian. I seriously doubted that lamenting on how worthless they were by my current standards would do much for his state of mind. I swallowed the last of the dry lentils and decided to take my best swing at a response.
"Honestly, I don't have a good answer for that."
"Seriously?"
"Look, I know you're used to working with Lisa and dealing with plans five levels deep on a four dimensional chessboard, so this might seem like a step down."
"She's not really that bad."
"Not my point. Really, what it came down to was I needed some starting cash and I got the sense that you would be all right to work with." Wasn't as convinced now as I had been then, but that probably wouldn't do much for his state of mind.
"That's it?"
"Pretty much? I'm not likely to offer that kind of deal again, even for you guys. Lisa's already negotiated some incredibly cheap medical coverage, and that's likely to be it for a while."
"I'm sorry, what? When?"
"Oh yeah, last night. She's probably been tied up, what with that thing with Panacea and everything. She didn't fill you in?"
"Panacea? And no, she didn't. Said she'd have an update for me later. We'll need to have a talk about the importance of sharing information."
"Well, it just happened last night. Also open communication doesn't seem like her strong suit."
"You have no idea." There was a sigh. "So you have healing tech now?"
I scanned the fridge and considered the nutritional value of possibly expired condiments. "Yeah, she worked out a deal for it. You should get the details from her."
"Oh, I will." There was a pause. "Uh, are you doing alright? You seem a bit off."
I blinked. "Right, sorry. I just woke up and I'm still a little out of it."
"Late night?"
"Actually I was trying out an experiment and it got away from me. Knocked me out for..." I checked my watch. "Jesus, six hours?"
"Uh, is everything okay?"
"Yeah, it's fine. I got them back in containment." I paused, pulled the phone away from my ear and turned to Garment. "You did get them back into containment, right?" There was an affirmative gesture. "Properly contained? In the stasis field? You didn't just lock them up somewhere, right?" Another affirmative gesture, mirrored by my motoroid to the best of its ability. A glance at the laptop showed a report from Survey of the status of the Life Fibers suspended in one of the scanning bay's stasis fields.
I pulled the phone back to my ear. "It's fine. Everything's under control." There was silence on the line. "Hello?" No response. "Brian?" I checked the status from Survey's assessment of the telecommunications network. "I know the call hasn't dropped. Is there some problem on your end, or..."
"It's fine. There's no problem at all." Brian was speaking very quickly as he answered. "I mean, if you're sure you're alright?"
I considered things. "There might be some muscle atrophy, but that's kind of expected." My stomach rumbled and I looked through my fridge again. "I'll have to manage that better, but it shouldn't be a problem in the future. So are we good?" I was probably a bit too eager to get off the call. I was already considering the nearest fast food restaurant and how big an order I could get away with without rousing suspicion. To make matters worse I missed a connection to the Magitech constellation from the Celestial Forge. Damn it, why did that constellation have so many powerful motes? Unless I had built up immense reach before it showed up there was just no way to land a connection.
"Yeah, as long as you're okay with the knife thing then we're good. I just wanted to make sure everything was on the level."
I wondered if he had to do that often when working around Tattletale. How much time did he spend sorting out her nonsense? Probably too much. There wasn't enough money in the world to get me to take his job.
And money was what this came down to. Sure, apparently I could make a million dollars' worth of tinker tech in a day, but that was market dependent. The Undersiders wouldn't have been able to afford the actual value, and anyone who could have wouldn't be paying that on a daily basis. What was the actual market for purchased powers? There was something there that my passenger was trying to hint at, but I couldn't put it together from the information I had.
I guess his main concern was that Tattletale had done something that ended up royally pissing someone off and created a situation much more dangerous than the one she had 'resolved'. It was probably a fairly common occurrence and it made sense that he would want to make sure the group didn't have a pissed off tinker after them for being cheated out of seven figures in commissions. Particularly one with inside knowledge of their base and who could probably hire any mercenary team on the planet in exchange for a few hours of tinkering work.
"The deal's the deal. You won't find me arguing about it now. Like I said, you're probably not going to get that kind of bargain again, but for this one..."
"I understand. Thanks for being above board on this."
"Right. Call me if anything comes up."
"Thanks."
I ended the call and realized that I had effectively run out of easy to access food. My options were to power through dry ingredients, take the time to actually prepare something, or completely abandon my diet and head for the nearest fast food place.
I don't think I've ever gotten changed so quickly in my life. I would guess it took less than a minute for a complete turnaround, and explanation to Garment, and I was out the door and hunting for food. There were more concerns here, both physically and what was happening with the Undersiders, but those could wait until after my stomach stopped screaming at me.
The nearest fast food place to my apartment was a tiny outlet of some third party pseudo-chain that I'm not sure even existed outside this state. It was called Burger Shed, and rather than compete with the big chains on quality, price, or service it seemed to be operating under the business model of putting outlets in areas major chains wouldn't touch. There was a certain logic to it. A McDonalds or KFC in this part of the docks would be robbed on a weekly basis. Who the hell would try to stick up Burger Shed? Yeah, the take might be roughly the same, but the place gave the impression of completely matching the destitution of the area. It was that special kind of urban camouflage that seemed to have evolved in the docks, safety by avoiding attention.
Despite being designed like it was a placeholder for a real restaurant it did have a decent menu, and fortunately almost no line. I don't think they got that much of a lunch rush, but I seemed to have just missed it. I badly wanted to place an order that would make the Fugly Bob Challenger seem like a health conscious meal, but was able to hold myself back. It wasn't like a big order would immediately point towards me being a cape, and there could be all kinds of reasons for it, I'd just prefer to maintain something of a low profile. I had just been lamenting on the importance of avoiding attention, and I could still get a decent amount of calories with a somewhat sane order.
Hey, if I got take out I could pretend to be ordering for two.
Thus I was walking back to my apartment with two jumbo shack combos with double fries and a pair of large milkshakes, the first of which I'd killed before I'm made it a block from the restaurant. Already I was feeling more clear headed. Despite the fact that I questioned whether anything approaching a milk product had been included in the shakes, they at least had enough calorie density that I no longer felt like my internal organs were digesting themselves.
With a break from the mind consuming appetite I was able to start evaluating the actual situation. My experiment with the life fibers, which was still a stupid move, had clearly taxed my system in a way that my nanites couldn't fully compensate for. Hopefully it was just a matter of metabolism and my impromptu binge would address it, but I couldn't know that until I got a look at my scans.
I entered my apartment to find Garment, my damaged motoroid, and the modified laptop all waiting for me in the kitchenette. Garment looked a little off put by my sudden departure and return, but there was nothing but blank acknowledgement from the two A.I.s.
"Sorry, whatever happened with the fibers left me starving." I considered things. "That might have been actually starving. I need to check on the effects after I eat." Garment shifted from annoyance to concern as I started wolfing down the combo meals. I think at least part of that concern was the proximity of grease and condiments to the clothing she had recently crafted. I did my best to eat carefully, despite the fact that I probably wouldn't have bothered removing the paper wrappers from the hamburgers in any other circumstance. I don't think I was even tasting half of the meal as I powered through it. If this was what life fibers did to a person's metabolism I would probably need a giant platter of fried food each night just to break even.
I glanced over at my 'work' phone as I ate. There were definitely some aspects of that conversation I could have handled better. Ok, pretty much everything about the Life Fibers experiment should have been left out. It wasn't enough to reveal anything, but I doubt it did much for Brian's piece of mind. His reaction was understandable. If I'd gotten any other power set and found out a tinker had sold me several hundred thousand dollars' worth of gear for a sliver of the price I'd also be looking for the catch. Either you were a pawn in some scheme, or you were dealing with someone notably unstable. Regrettably I think I gave the impression that it was the second one, and that wasn't too far off from the actual situation. There's no way to explain my reasoning without a full breakdown of how my powers work, and that was just not happening. I'm going to have to deal with the fact that the leader of the Undersiders now thinks he's dealing with a seriously unstable tinker.
Not a great situation, but I could work with it. At least it could buy me some breathing room. That was an interesting thought. How much of the 'deranged tinker' thing villains put on was sincere and how much was an act to keep people from constantly pestering them? If someone thought you were half a second from breaking out the death rays they probably wouldn't be too aggressive about commissions or service calls. There was probably a delicate balance to it, find a point where you were still approachable for serious matters without being constantly pestered.
That was getting kind of abstract. I had more pressing concerns, like figuring what the hell those life fibers had done to me and why I woke up ready to eat a week's worth of food in one sitting. Even after that huge meal I was still just barely sated. This seemed like the kind of situation where people would joke about hollow legs.
Fortunately I had an excellent lab with all the intrusive scanners a person could ever want, which is where I found myself with my cadre of roommates hovering around the door, and I was counting the networked copy of Survey running on the laptop in that group.
It turned out the answer to what the life fibers had done was 'a lot'. In more detail every level of augmentation they were capable of had been exercised to at least some degree during that less than consensual hug fest that Garment had saved me from. It was easy to assume life fibers just built muscle, and there was certainly some of that, but really these things were a force of evolution. There were alterations to my bones, tendons, proportions of fast twitch and slow twitch muscles, organ function, and even my peripheral nervous system. None of it was that drastic a change, but it was complex enough that the healing function of my nanites hadn't been able to fully supplement the investment, thus the excessive food cravings. I still felt like I could work my way through a couple of pizzas without much of an issue. If I did go with life fibers for physical development I'd have to throw out my diet plan and replace it with something more in line with the heightened calorie needs. With the way my digestive system was going to town on what I had eaten so far it seemed like quantity heavily outweighed quality as far as my training diet went. I had lost a good amount of body fat from the previous event and didn't want to think about what would happen if I really bottomed out.
Did I want to go forward with this plan? This lab wasn't specialized for medical work, but it had the capacity to examine biomodifications and cybernetics to such a degree that it was good enough to give me a picture of what was happening. It was a definite upgrade. I couldn't say how much, but everything indicated a slight increase in strength, durability, reflexes, endurance, and even cognitive function. There might have been some downsides to normal use, but my nanites dealt with whatever they were before the symptoms could appear. Overall the benefits were too significant to abandon this project.
I did need a way to properly moderate the level of contact, and fortunately Garment was hovering behind me while I worked. Her attention seemed to be split between my displays and the floating mass of life fibers suspended in a stasis field. With how neatly they were packed away you'd never guess they had almost taken me out of commission this morning.
"Garment? Could you help me with this?" She cautiously approached the terminal displaying holographic records of the previous encounter. I gestured towards the image. "I want to try this again."
I had never seen that particular flavor of exasperation from Garment before. She stood there and gave the sense that she was waiting for me to recognize the stupidity of my previous statement.
"Ok, I know it seems crazy." There was a flippant gesture from Garment. "But. But I know what went wrong last time. With your help I know I can do this properly."
As Garment reluctantly considered things I felt the Celestial Forge again, this time bringing the Alchemy constellation into reach. The mote I connected to was called Innate Talent: Alchemist. It considerably increased the versatility of what potions I could make. Well, it would have if not for one problem. It gave me the ability to make true instant healing potions, but also to create potion versions of any spells I knew within the system of ranked spellcasting.
I did not know any spells within the system of ranked spellcasting. I didn't even know there was a system of ranked spellcasting. Before I got this power I don't think the system of ranked spellcasting actually existed.
There was the considerable advantage in that now that I knew it existed I could theoretically learn magic. It would run on mana, an internal energy source that I would at least be able to measure and quantify with my magitek equipment. The problem was that without a teacher, reference material or any examples to draw upon it could take ages to learn a spell. I would be flying blind here. In ideal situations a talented person could learn spells at a rate of about one month per tier. Without that support infrastructure it could take several times longer, and someone without talent could take years to learn even a simple spell. I may have a good grasp on science, but I wasn't sure how much of that extended to magical principles.
The healing potions would have been enough to satisfy me, but having an entire system of magic dangled in front of me but kept just out of reach was infuriating. It would have spoiled my mood if not for one consolation from this ability. There was another mote attached to it. It effectively came with a free power on the side, one even smaller than the two I had received together from the Tookits constellation. And despite effectively being free it was unfathomably valuable to me. That was because my power had finally given me an alchemy lab.
Like my workshop it came stocked with a replenishing supply of reagents. Unlike my workshop the equipment wasn't fixed. Somehow it would upgrade itself based on my level of skill, meaning I would automatically be able to manage every form of alchemy I had already learned. If I got additional abilities or increased my skill the equipment would upgrade itself. It was incredible and made my plans to attempt to brew potions in the basement of an abandoned factory look laughable.
I had to see this.
Garment seem to have realized something had happened because she had broken out of her contemplative posture and was making inquisitive gestures at me.
"Oh, new power. Alchemy, you know, potion making? This one came with a lab. Want to see it?"
There was moderate excitement from Garment, possibly because I was shifting focus to something less likely to get me killed. I exited the Laboratorium with Garment. Fleet's motoroid trailed after us, cradling the laptop running a copy of Survey in its damaged arms. I really needed to deal with those. At least it could move normally inside the workshop rather than that 'thin ice' shuffle it hab been doing in the apartment to keep from damaging the floor.
It was kind of impressive that it had figured that out on its own. Both A.I.s would be getting close to the limits of their original parameters pretty soon. If I waited until I got a new power as a trigger for their growth I could tie upgrades to an undetectable event and keep precogs blind to the development of my A.I.s. It would also let them have a steady growth rate, so I wouldn't feel like I was lobotomizing or brutally shackling them.
My entry room remained unchanged from the last time I had seen it, so there was a serious question of where the alchemy lab was. Checking the workshop door quickly answered that question.
Essentially the alchemy lab had been added next to the workshop. The space had been shuffled around to create a small hallway/entry space with doors to each of the workplaces. On the left was my metal workshop and on the right was the monstrosity that was my alchemist's laboratory.
Monstrosity might have sounded like an overdramatic term, but I couldn't think of a better word for it. The space was massive, not as bad as my Laboratorium but easily more than twice the size of my workshop. The truly monstrous part of it came from how it seemed to interpret the clause about upgrading equipment based on skill level.
My proficiency with alchemy was all over the place, and that was fully represented in the laboratory. I had basic chemistry knowledge from my own education, which was supplemented by my intelligence boosting powers. I now had four different alchemy powers which ranged from alchemy in name only to very specific potion brewing to full on Frankenstein-esk life creation. On top of that I had Master Builder and Grease Monkey which, while not specifically alchemy centric, did include a lot of chemistry knowledge, even if Master Builder treated organic interactions as something of a novelty.
To describe the end result imagine taking a set of a third rate occult horror film, a chemistry lab, an oil refinery, and a herbalist shop, and cramming them all into the engine room of a science fiction spacecraft. That was roughly what I was looking at. There was a ritual space set up bordering energized chemical conduits which ran above an array of impeccably crafted alembics and retorts. Distillation columns shared space with bags of dried reagents and runic plates. The entire place was a mess of contradicting applications.
Garment certainly seemed to think so as she wandered through the new addition to my workshop, poking the occasional piece of equipment or raw ingredient with clear apprehension. Her attitude suddenly changed when she reached a corner of the lab. Excitedly she waved me over. It took me a moment to figure out what had her so excited.
"Oh, right. It makes sense that dyeing would be included in this stuff."
From Garment's posture it was clear she did not appreciate my lack of enthusiasm over this discovery. It was a fairly impressive set up that could easily accomplish a pretty complex array of resist dyeing and other techniques. That didn't exactly align with any of my alchemical knowledge, but it made sense under Decadence or one of my other aesthetic powers.
"I should probably sort this out properly. Do you want to..." I didn't even get to finish my sentence before Garment began gathering up the equipment and scouting out the ideal location for it. The whole project ended up as a rough repeat of my realignment of the workshop, and once again my interior design power came through. In the end I managed to turn the random mess of a chemical workshop into something both functional and somewhat aesthetically pleasing. Shifting some of the heavier equipment did require a rushed repair of my motoroid, and I wasn't at the point of running new conduits, so the piping had to be worked around. Still, it was at least a functional workspace by the end of it. I was even able to get the first of my potions brewing. It was bubbling in a beaker that belched blue smoke and smelled like a cabinet of cleaning supplies, but this place actually had proper ventilation so I didn't have to worry about asphyxiating myself.
I moved over to the workspace that Garment had claimed with the confidence and determination of a British colonialist. She had already done an inventory of equipment and was digging into some of her discretionary budget to improve the stock of available dyes. She had been working some intricate pattern into a scarf and seemed to be considering adding another layer to the design when I approached. Upon seeing me she excitedly presented the item.
"Very nice work." She beamed. "Garment, about the life fibers…" Her attitude shifted immediately, the enthusiasm draining out of her. "Garment, it's important. It's the kind of thing that could make a huge difference out there."
She looked contemplative and gestured for me to continue.
"Something bad is coming. Something dangerous for the city and everyone in it. If I'm not ready I can only guess how bad things could get. The life fibers? They could make the difference. They could get me ready for a fight I wouldn't be able to handle otherwise. Even if all they do is save me the training time that might allow enough extra crafting to make the difference."
She looked conflicted and made an uneasy gesture.
"I know they're dangerous. I don't think I can do this safely without you, but I think I need to try it. Can you help me with this?"
There were some uneasy motions as she considered things. Unlike previous requests this didn't come with a demand for payment or extra privileges for her. No, what she wanted took a lot more effort to communicate.
Which is why when we finally assembled in the Laboratorium I was wearing four additional pieces of protective equipment. My current load out included my original hyperalloy shin guard. At Garment's insistence it had been joined by its counterpart on my other leg, this one carrying a plate of the most chemically inert material possible. If anything happened its reinforcement would be able to intercept any reactive effects of the life fibers. Similarly my bracer had been rebuilt into a precision matrix of reinforced metal with enough compression resistance that all the force the life fibers could exert wouldn't be able to even dent my skin. My opposite shoulder was sporting a small pauldron of a rather complicated alloy of heavy metals and rare earth elements that should be able to resist the insane radiation the fibers could put out. Finally I had a chest plate of a seriously thermally resistant ceramic that I'd had to nanoforge. There was no chance of the fibers burning me or anything I was wearing this time.
All together it was an excessive amount of protection, especially with Garment managing the fibers, but she had insisted. She wouldn't go forward until I could show I had accounted for every warning displayed on the earlier analysis. She also insisted on the five extra-large pizzas that were stacked next to the sensor bay where we were conducting the test. That was one part I was more in favor of since I'd pretty much cleared out the kitchenette in my earlier binge.
Finally she was satisfied that I wasn't likely to kill myself and consented to begin the test. I rolled up my right sleeve and held out the arm. The stasis field around the fibers deactivated and Garment floated the spool over to me. Slowly she drew out the glowing red strand and assembled it in a cross work above my skin. At my signal she carefully lowered it to make contact.
There was the blast of energy again, but this time there was no movement from the fibers even as they lit up. I checked the readout for the status of my biometrics. The additional safeguards were definitely mitigating some of the damaging effects, but mostly it was Garment's ability to moderate the intensity of the contact. With access to the scanner I could see the alterations caused by exposure to the fibers. Most of them were clearly temporary and sustained by the energy they were giving off, but some had permanent effects. Mostly simple stress based growth, but there were indications of ongoing developments like I had gotten hints of earlier. Life fibers seemed to want their host in the best shape possible, even if that required borderline bioengineering.
At my signal Garment pulled the fibers back and returned them to the stasis field. I felt the exhaustion hit as the energy dissipated and activated my nanites to try to compensate. With the scanner active I could see the effects in real time. Conventional damage was repaired but the serious advancements were too complicated for the nanites to compensate for. I felt a gurgle in my stomach and instinctively gravitated towards the pizza boxes. That was a very good call from Garment, even if I had gotten a weird look from the delivery guy. Still, a questioning glance from a random pizza employee is better than drawing attention from my neighbors, like the burger shop feast could have done.
As I worked my way through the pie I felt the Celestial forge again, this time connecting to a small mote from the Toolkits constellation. The result of this connection truly proved that I had no idea how any of this was supposed to work. I foolishly thought the Toolkits constellation contained tools. Well, tools and facilities for crafting things. Sure I had gotten the Life Fiber Spool from clothing, but that was an outlier. Garment also, but it wasn't like she counted as a tool. Then Alchemy had rolled around and given me an entire chemical laboratory. Once again, a bit of an outlier. Then this mote came along and blew all my conceptions out of the water. For what it was worth it was called Class: Engineer, Specialization: Mechanic. It sounded a lot more innocuous than it was.
I mean, I could see why this was in the Toolkits constellation. I got a wonderful tool from it. I also got a suit of armor, a pistol, and various other supplies. The serious thing was that I also got the skill and, more importantly, the experience in how to use all that equipment.
Like with Master Builder I had gotten an entire life worth of experience from this one minor power. Thankfully it wasn't from an inhuman perspective, but it was close. It was a complete set of training and experience in how to be a military space engineer. It wasn't the technical stuff that was bothering me. Sure there were new technologies, new principles of physics, and new applications to deal with. Despite the volume of it I could actually handle it pretty well, probably because I already had so much of it that new technical information just wasn't that disruptive anymore. No, it was everything else that was the problem.
I had military training. I knew elementary marksmanship and weapon discipline. I had the experience of basic training and how to function in a unit. I knew, like from personal experience, how to use the new skills I had just picked up in a combat situation. I knew how to be dangerous with the gear I'd been given.
The primary and most important piece of this was my omni-tool. It was amazing and something I would have loved to get my hands on ages ago. It was a wrist mounted combination of a super computer and micro fabricator. It was absolutely incredible in its utility, but even more so in its military applications, and the model I'd been given was fully combat ready. In addition to the horrifying potential of fabricating weapons mid battle it could also disrupt other technology, discharge incendiaries, or even launch drones at opponents. And that wasn't even getting into the hacking and ECM applications.
But this wasn't raw information. It was like I'd been trained to do it. Like I had personal experience on the battlefield, except I couldn't give any details about what I'd done. It was experience without context and the contradiction was maddening.
It didn't hit me like Master Builder had, but there was enough of a reaction that Garment was becoming concerned. I waved her off, making sure to keep the half eaten slice of pizza in my hand well away from her dress.
"I'm okay. It's just a new power. Hit me pretty hard. Uh, I got some new stuff from it that I should check out soon." She calmed substantially. Huh, I had both my micromanipulators and omni-tool. I was just racking up high precision crafting items today.
I needed to get away from the sense that I was suddenly a veteran, so I focused on the readings from the experiment. Everything I'd been looking for was there in addition to the more esoteric developments being introduced. None of those were negative, just something I would need to account for. I can only imagine how crazy a world that actually evolved under the influence of life fibers would be.
Still, it was a tragedy that I couldn't utilize the energy of the life fibers. It was simply tremendous. It could easily take a person to the level of a mid-tier brute, and that was ignoring the side benefits of life fiber exposure. The problem was the detriments of life fiber exposure. It was easy to see why an entire alternate skill set was required to manage this kind of thing. Without a regulatory medium exposure would be a none-too-slow death sentence for anyone without innate restoration abilities that ignored physical limits. Even with my nanites working full blast to restore the damage I still couldn't utilize the power the fibers granted because I couldn't overpower the damn things. The only ways I could see this working would be to basically lobotomize them, somehow advance them enough that you could strike an accord, or come up with some way to overpower them. But good luck finding someone who could pull that off.
My eyes settled on Garment, white gloves and red evening dress, casually examining the glowing red spool.
That was an idea.
Was it a good idea? At the very least it was probably a better idea than most of the ones I'd had today.
"Garment?" She perked up. "First, thank you for your help. And for saving me last night. I couldn't have done any of this without you." She gave a bashful wave. "But I just had an idea that might make a really big difference."
She looked closer as I pulled up the readings. "The life fibers give an incredible amount of power, but I can't use it because I have no way to control them." She made a 'go on' gesture. "Right, so I would have to limit myself to conditioning. Maybe it would eventually let me use them properly, maybe not. But then I had an idea."
I pulled up the record of the test. "See how you were able to moderate the shape of the life fibers when they were in contact with my skin?" She made an affirmative gesture. "If you could do that as I move around, then I would be able to use close to the full power of the fibers without getting restrained." I turned the hologram towards Garment. "Do you think you can handle it?"
Garment seemed to be considering things, then slowly made a negative gesture. I slumped, but she signaled for me to wait. As I watched she mimed pulling off one of her gloves and offered it to me.
"You can do it if I have your gloves with me? Like the other night?" She made another negative gesture, then pulled the glove back on. "If I'm wearing your gloves?"
There was an exuberant expression from Garment. I sat back and thought about things. I had spent so much time with Garment being Garment I had nearly forgotten the core utility of her gloves. If you wore them she could share her skills, if not her power, with you. It was how we planned to work on my new costume. It made sense that it would give her a better sense of the person she was working with, it was just such a different concept that I hadn't even considered it.
I looked at the readings, then at Garments enthusiasm. We were planning on doing this anyway, and for something a lot less important than this. Why was I feeling apprehensive? Maybe I had gotten to like thinking about Garment as her own entity rather than another tool of the Celestial Forge. Using her like this somehow felt like it was cheapening what she represented.
Still, she seemed excited about this. If I was going to handle what this city could throw at me I would need all the power I could get. If she didn't have a problem did my hang-ups really matter? Well, they did, but I could deal with them.
"Alright, let's do it."
Garment actually jumped in excitement. Still, it wasn't as simple as just diving into things. Even with the security precautions we needed to plan out the experiment properly. Without decent data there would be no point to this. Additionally, reviewing the previous experiment and the records from before I passed out led to another conclusion.
"Okay, so to minimize contact and avoid buildup of heat, steam, or life fiber energy I need to minimize the amount of coverage, both from the fibers and other clothing." Garment made a gesture of assent.
"Yes, I get that, but this is plenty. There's no cause for or benefit to going further than this." Garment plainly pointed at the display showing the additional 7.35% improvement in energy moderation and sensor coverage that could be gained.
"I can see that, but it's within acceptable limits for safety and data coverage." Not to mention other coverage. In response Garment pointed at me with both index fingers, then pointed sharply to the ground.
"Garment, the underwear stays on. That's final." Garment seemed annoyed, but relented and made a casual gesture towards me.
There was a slicing sound as new seams appeared on the last item of clothing I was wearing and significant portions of it fell away. Let's just say my boxer-briefs lost all of their boxer and became considerably more brief. I was left with an amount of clothing that would only be appropriate attire on European beaches. Garment was proudly indicating how energy moderation and sensor coverage had improved by a whole 4.83%.
God damn the Laboratorium was drafty.
With her final alteration complete Garment approached me in the scanning bay next to the life fiber spool. My current outfit consisted of my boots, five pieces of armor, and the remnants of my underwear. If I had been more buff and attractive I could have passed for the cover of one of those garbage romance novels, or one of those sword and sorcery books from the early eighties. I'm beginning to see why those books always took place somewhere warm or tropical.
Garment stood in front of me and raised her gloves, palms forward. I gingerly returned the gesture and she pressed her palms into mine. She shifted slightly to line up the tips of our fingers, and then the gloves began to turn inside out, folding over my hands.
I watched the progression as they folded off her 'arms' and 'hands' and slid down over my own. As I watched her dress was carefully folded across a computer altar and her shoes were set aside. That was only a loose distraction from the connection I was feeling.
Suddenly I KNEW fashion. I mean, I had known how to make things look good. I could control aesthetics to a near supernatural level. My crafting abilities extended broadly enough that I could have made almost any item of clothing to incredible precision. I thought I knew what I was doing. I was wrong.
With the knowledge at my disposal I could look at an item of clothing and pick apart every aspect from the fabric to the way it hung from the body. I knew how it would make the person wearing it feel, how to influence the reactions of the people who saw them, how it would affect every aspect of their daily life in ways they would barely notice but live with all the same.
And that was just the high level stuff. I could understand every possible interaction of thread, fabric, seams, cut, and accessories. I could design on a level I never imagined and it was only the faintest sliver of how Garment saw the world every day.
I suddenly had a slightly better understanding of why she had trouble focusing on a keyboard.
I shook my head clear and concentrated on the test. I flexed my fingers in Garment's gloves, getting a feel for them. There was the slightest resistance in response, just enough to signal that she was still there.
I signaled Fleet and the motoroid disabled the stasis field around the spool of life fibers. Instead of dropping it floated towards me. Even with the link to Garment I couldn't direct her powers, but I could vaguely feel them. She pulled on the glowing red thread and it began to unspool, slowly at first then accelerating to an incredible speed. It wasn't flowing into a tangled mess either. Garment was weaving it into a complex mesh of red lines that were pulled to float just above the surface of my skin. I was so transfixed by the spectacle I barely noticed the Celestial Forge missing a connection to the Alchemy constellation.
Eventually the entire mass of fibers was floating just out of contact with my body. Garment had spun it into a tight pattern that looked slightly Celtic and wrapped it so that the coverage would be mostly even. I swallowed my apprehension and gave Garment a slight nod.
The entire mass crashed down on me at once. I felt the surge of energy as well as the concerning drain on vitality. For my part I focused and activated every nanite I could. It was easier than it had been before, probably because of the military discipline that I was trying not to think about. Anyway, I could manage my nanites and still remain mostly functional, though I probably wouldn't be up for any delicate work.
Experimentally I slowly raised an arm. Despite being covered in life fibers it flexed freely. I had a loose sense of Garment directing them along with my movements to keep them from restraining me. I tried a faster motion and swept my arm across my body.
The movement was a blur and the wind of its passing shook cyber skulls and almost blew Garment's dress off the altar. That was more force then I anticipated. I considered halting the test to look at the current data, but decided I hadn't come this far just to back off now.
I tensed my legs and jumped. Seriously jumped. I probably would have hit the celling if not for the state of my reflexes allowing me to flip in midair and spring off like a rebounding basketball. I dove headfirst into the ground before handspringing back into the air with just enough force to launch me half way to the ceiling. I had a perfect view of the cathedral like space before the hang time ran out and I plummeted again. This time I was able to turn the landing into a roll and then a run. It was barely a run as my walking pace seemed blindingly fast. In even more blatant disregard for the laws of physics I angled myself towards one of the walls and started strolling up it with the speed of a formula one racecar.
I may have been humming the baseline to Fleetwood Mac's The Chain as I moved. Sue me, my foot steps were perfectly matching the rhythm of the song.
I was phenomenally lucky to have this kind of space to play with. Most new capes would be messing around in the boat graveyard or one of the abandoned warehouses, and that was just asking for trouble. Meanwhile I got to parkour across gothic architecture without a flight to Europe or annoying any historical conservationists. It really was exhilarating, even if I got the sense that some of the skulls were less than thrilled with the way I was treating some of the icons as springboards.
They were the only ones annoyed by this. I was legitimately having the time of my life. Between the rush of energy of the life fibers, which was like a runner's high times a million, and the superhero tier acrobatics this may have been the best time I'd had since getting my powers. Garment seemed to be enjoying herself as well, at least as much as I could tell. It was certainly no challenge for her to manage the life fibers, even at the speed I was moving. She even shifted the designs around, possibly for more even coverage, possibly just to exercise her creativity. Amazingly it seemed like even the life fibers were enjoying themselves.
I had limited feedback from them, but I was drowning in activated nanites at the moment so there was a level of connection. The drives I had picked up before, connect, feed, grow, they were all there, but there was also something else. I hesitated to call it joy, but there was definitely a sense that it was good to be moving, good to not be contained or dormant any more. I had no idea what it meant for the fiber's development, but at least it wasn't malicious.
Actually, nothing from the fibers had ever been malicious. Dangerous, sure. They were definitely dangerous, but they just weren't advanced enough to have malice behind their actions. Maybe that was a good sign, or maybe it would change. I couldn't say, but at the very least it was one less red flag to worry about.
And when I was nearly flying around my private cyber cathedral with the strength of a superhero it was hard to come up with things to worry about. Actually, scratch that. There was one thing. The same thing I was worried about when I woke up. I was getting really, really hungry.
It seemed to have taken longer to build up, but it was gaining steam. As I understood it my nanites could handle basic needs, but some of the exotic effects were too much for them, so that stuck through and suddenly I was desperate for food. As the hunger crept up so did a million other doubts, including a seriously self-conscious feeling about my current attire. Suddenly jumping back and forth in scraps of armor, immodest underwear, and a mesh of red thread with glowing blue circuit lines on my skin seemed somewhat bizarre.
God damn it, I was supposed to be using life fibers properly, not running around nearly naked in a ridiculous battle costume.
I took a pair of bounding leaps and landed back in my original scanning bay. With a signal to Garment the fibers pulled themselves off me and neatly spooled themselves up. A quick signal to Fleet and the stasis field was reactivated.
I was worn out, but not to the extent I had been previously. The pizza was calling to me, but first I needed to get Garment. Not really knowing what to do I held my hands back in the position she had indicated before. Slowly the gloves peeled themselves off my hands, turning right side out as they went. When they finished the gloved hands were pressed against mine. I turned my back as Garment started to mime putting on her dress again. I would probably never get used to that. It just felt too intrusive.
Instead I dove into another pizza and was two thirds of the way through it by the time Garment finished getting 'dressed'. The data was roughly what I had expected, enhanced strength, agility and general physical abilities. There was one factor I hadn't seen coming.
The mass of the fibers had increased by 12.325% from their first measurement.
My interactions, the energy they were drawing from me? It was feeding the fibers. They were growing. I had no idea what the end result would be, and if I didn't have Garment I would probably be pretty concerned about the entire situation. Still, more mass meant more complexity. It might mean the chance to develop sapience, and then actual communication, not this rough empathy stuff I'd been groping at so far.
I didn't need to worry about the life fibers. I had a much more pressing concern. Garment wanted to change the design of my costume.
"No. Absolutely not. That was a test environment, not the basis for a new style." Garment seemed to pout as she presented yet another sketch of an outfit design that would have done Frank Frazetta proud. Considering how much she loved clothing it was odd how keenly she seemed to be latching onto the idea of minimalist design.
"Look, wide weave fibers in any of these select materials will facilitate enough ventilation and prevent absorption of the life fiber energy. It will be perfectly safe while still being fully concealing." Garment seemed to look down at her sketches, then over at the disassembled costume, then at my calculations. Grimly she seemed to accept my decision and trudged off, pencil in hand.
I shook my head. I hated to disappoint her, but there were certain conventions I just wasn't ready to accept in terms of my cape identity. I was at a highly unstable time where anything I did could be held against me forever. Now was not the time for stylistic experimentation.
I listened to the scratch of pencil on page as I worked on my own project. Micromanipulators were amazing devices, but unfortunately too bulky to be used along with the haptic interface for my omni-tool. This would have been a serious problem for anyone without the blanket ability to merge technology. Thus the product of my latest work, the hybrid omni-tool/micromanipulator. It was incredible really. Not only was the interface so much more precise in terms of controlling the output and setting design parameters, but the tools it could create could now be used with micron precision, and that's not even getting into the combat applications.
There were a few other things I worked to get out of the way as Garment finished her design. I had retrieved the complete potion from my alchemy lab. The first potion I had even created. It was capable of generating two copies of myself that would last for about seven or eight minutes, or until they were damaged. Mainly I would use it to let me generate additional call beads without depleting my alchemy reagents, but it would also be interesting to finally see exactly how the duplication worked.
I had also completed a brief interface with my computer core and expanded my A.I.'s parameters slightly. It wasn't much, but the growth should be unpredictable if I did it each time I got a new power and it would provide steady, consistent development. Both programs were mostly optimizing within a partitioned section of the core and operating the motoroid or laptop with truncated versions of themselves. I took some time to offer assistance and optimization advice as I increased their allotment of resources and growth boundaries.
They were coming along nicely. Survey should be able to facilitate a basic voice interface soon and Fleet's ground travel modeling had progressed better than I had hoped. I'm not sure if it could handle bipedal combat, but complex navigation was already well within its capabilities. I also had slated for a complete rework of the motoroid's systems now that I had the omni-tool and micromanipulators to facilitate things.
On that topic I'd been able to test my diagnostic scanner on both my micromanipulators and all the equipment I had gotten from Class: Engineer, though thanks to my weird experience I already had a seriously through understanding of that gear. The scanner was significantly less accurate than the Laboratorium, but was actually extremely adept for identifying damage and understanding programing. Its ability to discern the workings of advanced tech was a bit lacking, but its portability made up for it. I was considering hybridizing it with a heads up display or sensor visor of some kind, but I hadn't committed to a decision yet.
The new equipment was a bit of a conundrum, as was the technology behind it. Most of it was conventional and meshed nicely with the rest of my knowledge base, but all the advanced functions were based on a single exotic material. I seemed to be running into that problem fairly often. The best tech for Master Builder was locked behind access to cybertonium. I could do incredible things with my physics skill power, but the higher level stuff required quantum paired crystalized lithium to manage antimatter and higher dimensional effects, a kind of di-lithium crystal. Still, as complex as those were they paled in comparison to the basis of this new technology.
Everything was built around Element Zero. Yeah, neutron matter. Cybertonium could be artificially engineered, but it required the precise use of nuclear decay as part of its production. Paired crystalized lithium could form naturally in areas of enough spatial distortion. Element Zero needed a supernova. I might eventually be able to produce some of it with alchemical transmutation, but it would be so difficult that it would make my other metamaterials projects look like child's play. Until then I was limited to what was included in the equipment my power had provided.
I was deliberately avoiding thinking about that project as I stared at an open page on one of the spare laptops. The laptop was completely redundant with the better computer options I had at my disposal, but I felt like doing this step on a conventional PC. Now that I had my omni-tool I even had a portable computer that wasn't an embarrassment on the level of the rest of this human junk.
I got up, went to the kitchen and put a quarter into the jar. Did I need to expand the jar's use for my military memories? They weren't a problem yet, but I could see them causing some issues.
When I got back I continued staring at the page. This was a serious concern, and one I'd been struggling with for a long time. I wasn't sure how to approach it, but this seemed like a good step. If it wouldn't completely address the problem it could at least provide a counter point for if things got out of hand.
I was distracted from my contemplation by the Celestial Forge moving again. It was the Clothing constellation and connected to a mote as large as any I had secured. When I felt the link I understood why. The mote wasn't that individually powerful, but the implications of what I could do with it were staggering.
It was called The Flock's Fleece. Its most basic function was the ability to create clothing. Since I had experienced Garment's skill first hand I had more respect for what that phrase meant, but this was still significant. Tools were nearly unnecessary, as was just about every step between raw material and finished clothing. And wondrous clothing at that. Not only could I make beautiful clothes from raw wool, leather, or any other base material, but I could enhance them beyond what was conventionally possible. Anything I made would keep whoever wore it comfortable in any environment on the surface of the earth, from the middle of the Sahara to the depths of Antarctica. It would also protect them physically, probably not to the point of being bullet proof, but definitely stab proof and probably bullet resistant.
It wasn't the kind of power that increased my own combat potential, or brought any serious utility. The armoring would stack, but was so minor compared to my reinforcement that it was barely noteworthy. The environmental resistance was nice, but hardly worth a power of this magnitude. No, the significance of this was the fact that I could keep anywhere from a large city to a small civilization in supernaturally enhanced clothing for a trivial amount of effort and resources.
Given how this power basically turned me into a human textile factory and considering how fast Garment could already work it was staggering to consider what we would be able to accomplish together. That is, providing she finally abandoned this barbarian chic idea.
I prayed for that to be the case when I saw her approaching with another sketch. Fortunately it was more conventional, largely in line with her earlier design, but with white paneling added to compliment the gloves. Her gloves. It was weird to think we could end up working together like that.
She seemed happy at my reaction, but made a quizative gesture towards the screen.
"Oh, I'm thinking about setting up an account." I turned to the laptop as she looked over my shoulder at the PHO signup page. "I figure it might be a counter point if they try to stick me with a bad cape name. I mean, it's not guaranteed, but it's a shot."
She made an encouraging motion towards the list I had been working on. It wasn't comprehensive or even particularly creative. I still had no idea for a theme. My best idea had been to go with something vague and hope for the best. A couple of names had been crossed off due to being in use, and a couple more had been eliminated on further consideration. I was almost down to a selection, but was still a mess of nerves over it. There was one name I was leaning towards, and it was something I had remembered from my college days.
My first year geometry professor had been a serious career mathematician. He was the kind of person who went on about how mathematics was the only 'true language' and never missed an opportunity to talk about how he'd read Euclid's Elements in the original Greek. The only thing that kept him from being insufferable was his sincerity about the importance of the material and how passionate he was to share it. Honestly, dropping random Greek terms and facts about the development of mathematics was a decent way of keeping the class engaged.
There was one word that had stuck with me, largely because I hadn't heard it before or since. The word meant 'unlimited', but in a fundamentally different sense from infinite. Specifically, it translated to 'without boundary'. There was something I liked about it on principle.
There's a split among capes as to whether you should have a meaningful name, or something completely separate from your abilities. The shift seemed to happen between junior capes and experienced ones. Capes just starting out wanted their abilities fully on display. I'm pretty sure someone would try to call themselves "Captain-Firehands-that-I-can-direct-after-I-shoot-the-blasts-but-not-when-it's-raining-Man". Experienced capes wanted to get as far away from anything that would expose their capacities as they could. Alexandria was probably the best example of this, since the fact that she had perfect memory and started out as 'The Library of Alexandria' was pretty much regulated to obscure cape trivia at this point.
What I liked about this possibility was it did both. It was vague and epic sounding while also being indicative of my power, but all it revealed was the lack of limits. Even if someone understood what it meant there was pretty much no tactical advantage to that bit of information. I had checked it, both on cape sites to make sure the name was open and a Greek translator to make sure I had the spelling and definition correct.
"What do you think about this for my cape name?" I pointed at the top of the list. Garment reviewed it and gave an enthusiastic motion. I still wasn't sure how up to date she was on culture or society, but she had a pretty good sense for how things fit together. Plus I needed to commit to something before the PRT made a public statement. They had been tied up with today's Ward debut, but that wouldn't occupy the press forever. If I wanted to avoid something ominous and mythological I would need to take a step forward. A PHO account wasn't a guarantee, but it was movement in the right direction. I confirmed the name and opened my account.
Welcome to the Parahumans Online message boards.
You are currently logged in, Apeiron
You are viewing:
• Threads you have replied to (0)
• AND Threads that have new replies (0)
• OR private message conversations with new replies (0)
• Thread OP is displayed.
• Ten posts per page
• Last ten messages in private message history.
• Threads and private messages are ordered chronologically.
Garment gave me an approving gesture, then indicated towards her sketch. The day had been draining away and I needed to get cracking if I was going to finish my projects before my appointment.
"Alright. Let's get started."
Jumpchain abilities this chapter:
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.
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.
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.
Last edited:
- Location
- Actually pretty lost
This was great, I actually laughed out loud.
You've got this here twice.
- Pronouns
- He
Huh. I was just looking for something to read while waiting for your usually once weekly update on ff.net. I've been following you for a while, and really dig your style. The pacing works for me. Things happen - but they dont happen constantly and without reason.
Keep it up.
Keep it up.
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
I've committed to not adding new content, mostly because once I open that door I can see it running away from me since there are some perks I'd really like to include as well. The story is also kind of a tribute to the Celestial Forge, which I always felt deserved more attention. If someone does a complete update of the Celestial Forge for current jumps then I'd be happy to shift to it, but not adding stuff piecemeal. So Celestial Forge 2.0 would be good, but not to Celestial Forge 1.2.0-a.1
Thanks for the catch and corrected.
16 Therapy
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
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.
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.
Well. That's been a fair while coming. Now we know.
And, isn't he getting an awful lot of aesthetic perks and items? I think he has only one perk that includes any knowledge of FTL propulsion systems, he hasn't managed to build a personal force field (generally something you expect to be early in the broad-spectrum Tinker development chart), and he already has... four aesthetic perks I think, plus Garment who is halfway to being a fashion perk?
And, isn't he getting an awful lot of aesthetic perks and items? I think he has only one perk that includes any knowledge of FTL propulsion systems, he hasn't managed to build a personal force field (generally something you expect to be early in the broad-spectrum Tinker development chart), and he already has... four aesthetic perks I think, plus Garment who is halfway to being a fashion perk?
TrueGuardian32
Unfinished Writer
- Location
- Arkansas
Umm, isn't this way behind compared to the Fanfiction net version?
- Location
- Earth
Yes it is. The author built up a backlog on AO3 and Fanfiction before coming here. They have since been catching up by uploading chapters here daily. SV should be caught up in a little under two weeks.
16.1 Interlude Weld
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
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."
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."
Last edited: