39
Armsmaster's 90-minute warning alarm started beeping in the upper-right corner of his helmet's HUD, and he spared a second away from the inertial dampener he was fiddling with to dismiss it. The device was a core component of his motorcycle; indeed, most Tinkers who built any sort of gotta-go-fast vehicle had something similar. The device helped to keep him actually on the motorcycle when it was moving at top speeds, emitting a field to reduce the effects of g-force on the passenger once the vehicle reached an MPH threshold. This one had been swapped out of the motorcycle after he'd improved both the design and his raw skill at driving, because the less he needed to actually engage it (and have it affect less of an area) the less stress it produced on the other components nearby, and—
The 75-minute warning started to beep. He dismissed that one too.
—now that it was essentially a spare, he was free to try and reverse-engineer it and create an inertial enforcer. Fenja and Menja's giant forms were protected by a Breaker effect, and the theory was that he could perhaps bypass this by cheating the limits of normal kinetic force equations. A stab that would normally be a pinprick could be amplified into something capable of puncturing the sisters' Breaker durability, and thereby deliver a payload of the tranquilizers he'd originally developed f—
The 60-minute warning went off. Armsmaster dismissed it, then went ahead and canceled the 45, 30, and 15-minute warnings as well. He'd just face a clock, these interruptions were not helping. They weren't even a countdown to a deadline, they were the countdown to the 'get ready for a deadline' phase of the evening. Armsmaster physically turned his chair around towards the shelves where his old watch hung from a wire rack— and spotted the sticky note he'd taped over its face earlier, reminding him to be out the door by 5:45. Yes. Thank you. So helpful.
'You need to relax more,' she'd said. 'Time away from work will do you good,' she'd said. So far he was experiencing the exact opposite effect. Tinkering in peace was not stressful, this was. Armsmaster turned his attention back to the half-disassembled device in front of him. He carefully teased wires off of contact points; 43 minutes left. He separated a couple layers of nanocircuitry that regulated the inertial field itself; 36 minutes left. He examined the power source hookups and considered which power core in which halberd would be most compatible; 28 minutes left.
Model 6, he decided, could be worked with. He'd have to remove the containment foam payload to make room for the tranqs, but that he'd expected from the beginning, so it wasn't really an issue. The bigger project would be adapting the foremost power core to the Inertial Enforcer and removing the cutting torch to slot the new device in its place. Oh, but that would throw off the heat dissipation and recycling systems in the rest of the Model 6… would the Inertial Enforcer produce comparable heat? Could it be made to? He had logs of the dampener's stress testing somewhere, he could get a ballpark estimate from that and then spend some time testing the new configuration directly.
20 minutes left, and the Incoming Call light on his nearby laptop started to flash. Armsmaster reached for the Accept hotkey, and his finger hovered over it for a long, inexplicably guilty moment. He pressed the key, and the screen lit up as the voice chat program booted up.
"Hello, Colin. Doing alright?"
"Good evening, Dragon. And yes, I'm fine, but I don't think I can make the… thing tonight. I've got a project going for an upcoming strike, I need to get it running and properly tested. Sorry, but hopefully next time?" What was left of November was going to be consumed by the E88 strike, if all went well, so he'd probably have some spare time in December. Surely by January. March at the latest.
"I thought you might say that," she replied, and Armsmaster's finger started a nervous tic-tapping on the lab counter. "I'm sure it's important. When is this operation planned for?"
...welp. "It's— not, not yet. Preliminary planning phase. But very soon."
"Mhm. Soon like 'tomorrow' or soon like 'next week?'" When he didn't answer, Dragon continued. "If it's the latter, then would a couple of hours away really make or break it? I'll understand if it is, Colin." Nnnnyyyyeeeehhhh— maybe. But it's not like he would know until after the fact. And, that inexplicably guilty feeling reminded him, he didn't even know for sure yet if there was going to be a strike on the E88. Armsmaster sighed.
"Dragon, I'm… really not sure about this."
"You don't really have to be sure, Colin, but I do think you should give it a try." Even without the video avatar display, he could imagine the look she must be giving him. Armsmaster gave the disassembled device in front of him a forlorn glance, then started carefully packing it up and setting his tools aside somewhere they wouldn't roll off the table. "Is that reluctant consent I hear?"
"Yes," he muttered. "It's just— you did say this was a casual gathering, right?"
"That's correct."
"Then, Dragon, I have a question. And... it's going to sound really pathetic." Armsmaster glanced at the watch again, frowned, and undid the latches on his helmet. Colin set the headpiece near the laptop and asked, "What am I supposed to wear?"
The answer, as it turned out, was jeans and a light sweater, which he did have stashed away somewhere. It actually took a good five minutes to remember where (a locker in the PRT building, not his lab on the Rig) because while Colin knew where every tool, supply item, and completed device in the many hidden access panels of his lab were, denim and a cotton-polyester blend didn't exactly fall into any of those categories. Fortunately, the commandeered meeting room Dragon directed him to was at the PRT building in the first place, so it wasn't a huge loss of time. Which was a bit of a shame, because this was a mistake what was he doing?
Standing outside the door, listening to the voices inside and generally feeling foolish. Sigh. Colin suppressed the uneasiness in his stomach and knocked on the door. The voices quieted a little and allowed Colin to recognize the vague sounds of machinery humming in the background. It sound a bit familiar, but he couldn't place it offhand. After a couple of footsteps the door opened, with Chessman's unmasked face peering through the gap. The older man smiled and opened the door wider. "Hey, Armsmaster! Dragon said you might make it. Come on in."
"Thank you, Chessman," Colin said, out of a lack of any better response.
"Ah, go ahead and call me Danny. Everyone here knows everybody else, though if you prefer Armsmaster that's certainly fine too. Did Dragon let you know what to expect?"
"Colin, then. And no, she didn't…" Colin trailed off as he got his first good look at the interior of the meeting room. A medium-sized round table had been set up, with 5 chairs in a rough V formation around it; it was covered in books, papers, and several of Chessman's non-combat miniatures. Dragon's avatar waved at him from a monitor that had been carefully strapped to the top of a high stool. The machine sounds he'd heard from outside revealed themselves as an air purifier and a dialysis machine, both of these explained by the presence of Director Piggot sitting at the table next to Chessman's open spot, with a pencil in one hand and a lit cigar in the other. Across from her, next to the open spot that was presumably for Colin, sat a familiar dark-haired man hunched over a piece of paper. Colin scrambled for a moment to try and convince himself he was mistaken; then he spotted the rough robe on the coat hook and large wooden staff next to it and Colin's brain quietly short-circuited itself.
"Myrddin?"
"That's Grognak the Barbarian to you, sonny jim," the 'wizard cape' shook a finger at him, and grinned. "Chevalier says hi, by the way."
"L...likewise?" Coherent thoughts finally reasserted themselves. "Aren't you still stationed in Chicago?"
"Yeah, but I worked a deal with Strider. There's a falafel place around here he really likes, so twice a month I pay for his dinner and a movie, and he gives me a round trip."
"I see." Colin's eyes moved involuntarily over to Director Piggot, who glanced up and raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to speak. Chessman managed to distract her attention before he could. ("Emily, I know I say this every week, but you should really quit smoking.") ("They are my lungs and I will ruin them as I please.")
"We're starting a new campaign tonight, so it's really the best time for you to join in." Dragon spoke up, and gestured at the only empty seat remaining. Her monitor was tilted a bit so that her webcam could see the whole table, and that everyone could see her, Colin distantly noted. "Don't be fooled by the stack of books, it's a lot easier than it looks. Come on, sit down."
After waiting a moment to give the earth a chance to open up and swallow him whole (it didn't), Colin did.
* * *
"...okay, so with the triple word square, that brings the total to 66 points to Sunny." Bark!
"What the— Theo, that's not a valid entry. What does that even say, 'daijoubu?" That's not a word."
"I think it's a Japanese word." Wuff.
"And for the last time, we're playing in English." Kayden ran her fingernails through her hair while Sunny gave an exaggerated sigh. Theo just shrugged. She'd decided to make a quick stop at the grocery store after she left the Pawprint Shrine, and Sunshine was waiting on the balcony outside her apartment when she got home. Theo, after his initial flurry of questions (you asked a dog to babysit why would you do that how did it even get in) and Kayden's subsequent pulling him aside to explain what actually happened to Hookwolf, had apparently decided to just roll with it. That was an important life skill for cape families, so it was good he was learning it sooner rather than later.
The phone rang, halting their game of Scrabble and prompting Theo to take advantage of the break to use the restroom. Kayden picked up the receiver before it could finish its third ring. "Hello?"
"Kayden. It's Max."
"Oh— hi, Max. This isn't really a good time."
"Then you'll have to make it a good time, we need to talk."
"Max, I don't—" Aster, sitting in her high chair to preside over the game and eat strained carrots, found herself abruptly alone and started to cry. Kayden looked for Theo, didn't see him, and said "Sorry, just a second, I need to get Aster," before she set the phone aside and did just that. She released her baby from the confinement of the chair and cleaned her up a bit, removing the bib and applying a wet washcloth to the smears of carrot that adorned her face and hands. Kayden set Aster on her hip and walked back towards the phone, only to find Sunny standing near the counter and panting heavily into the receiver.
"Kayden. Kayden what is that." She snatched the phone away from the wolf. Sunny sat back down and smiled beatifically— and an idea formed. Kayden started to smile back.
"Sorry, that was Sunny! Oh, no, I didn't get a dog— I don't normally like them, but this one has sold me. She belongs to this nice young lady I met at the market a while back, we had ice cream and she offered to babysit sometimes. And Max, you should see this dog, Sunny is just over the moon for Aster, it's adorable." Kayden leaned back against the counter and continued talking over her ex-husband. "Huge white fluffy thing, I never would have thought she'd be so sweet, looking at her teeth! Sometimes I think she looks more like a wolf than a dog. Super intelligent, too: just a little while ago, Aster was playing with her blocks, and when one rolled away Sunny brought it back. And if she thinks Aster is upset or too close to something that she might bump into, Sunny herds her away or even picks her up by her onesie, just like a cat with a kitten! Sunny's such a protective dog, a real guardian angel. If it weren't for the shedding I'd probably get a dog myself, but having her owner over a few times a week will have to do, I guess!"
Kayden laughed, not even needing to fake it, then sighed. "Sorry, I'm gushing. What did you need to talk about?"
"I can see you're busy. I'll call again later."
"Oh, alright then. Have a good night." Click. Kayden glanced down at Sunny, who was positively smirking. She raised one hand up, palm flat. The wolf reared up on her hind legs and slapped one enormous paw against it. High five, indeed.
* * *
Danny Hebert parked his car in the driveway and let himself inside his house as quietly as possible. Taylor was a pretty sound sleeper, but it was just courteous not to make more noise than necessary. He set aside his work bag and his game bag, then rolled his shoulders to stretch them before he headed upstairs to bed. It had been an… interesting evening, to say the least. When Dragon had first asked him if he'd mind Armsmaster joining the game, he'd thought she was joking. He brought up the idea with the rest of the group—without mentioning the Tinker's name, of course—and there had been a general agreement, so he'd given the go-ahead. He had to wonder if Dragon had also asked Director Piggot in private, because Emily had pointed out that a new player entering an established game would be awkward, but they were at a good holding point anyway, so why not start a side campaign?
A good judgment call there, either way. Trying to introduce someone to the hobby for the first time is hard enough with an established history between other characters, let alone someone as clearly out of their depth as Armsmaster— Colin, he supposed. Danny suspected that if Colin had entered a game where everyone knew everyone except him, he'd have walked out and never returned. For the moment, it looked like he was going to stay, which brought a few problems of its own. As he'd addressed Dragon, after everyone else had departed:
"He is going to min/max this to hell and back, isn't he."
Dragon had offered him a conciliatory smile. "Godspeed, Dungeon Master. We appreciate your sacrifice, you poor, doomed bastard."
Danny suspected that the very moment Colin got a handle on his new paladin, things were going to get interesting. But, that was a problem for later. For now, he needed sleep. He hadn't quite achieved it when he heard a thump from downstairs. He listened, waiting for the groan of pipes or the house settling, and instead heard a muffled crack, and the tinkling of broken glass.
There was someone in the house.
The invisible lines of his power thrummed with tension, reaching out to every possible focus in the house, in the garage, in the basement. He got out of bed, as quietly as he could, and crept down the hall—Taylor's door was still shut, good—then down the first few steps of the stairs. He didn't see movement in the living room, so he crept a bit further. He heard the rattling of the door knob as someone unlocked it; the front door in the kitchen, by the sound. They must have broken a window to get at the latch. And it was they, he could hear three voices.
"Get your ass in here quick, 'fore someone sees you," said One.
"Man, are you sure this is the right house?" Two spoke next. "Looks kinda boring."
"Yeah I'm sure. A couple of the little shits said this was the one." Three's voice was a bit phlegmy. A robbery? New Wave came to mind, unbidden. He started pushing his power down the lines, getting them ready just in case. There was movement in the kitchen, and Danny cursed leaving his work bag downstairs; his cell phone was in there. He needed to get back to his room and call the police from the landline.
He took a step back, and the stair creaked.
"What was that?" "Living room!" A flashlight clicked on and turned the corner, the beam traveling over his legs by chance and then snapping up to focus on Danny's face, blinding him. "There you are, motherfucker! Hands up, I gotta gun!"
Not good. He heard the click of the firearm and, a bit further in the house, the snickering of the other burglars as they started going through the living room. Danny raised his hands— "Good, now get down here, nice an' slow, and then get on your fucking knees."—and took careful steps down the stairs until he reached the landing, then sat as directed.
"Heeey, this one's smart! Makes things easier," Two—or maybe One—laughed and gestured with the flashlight. "Cool."
"Look, take what you want and go. Nobody has to get hurt," Danny said.
"Yeah, sure old man. We will. But first— your name Hebert?" A chill ran down his spine. "I think it is, said so on the mailbox. So, limp-dick, you got a daughter, huh?" Danny's blood turned to ice.
"You've made a mistake," he heard himself say.
"Nah, don't think so," One—or Two or Three, he didn't care—said. "Hate to break it to you, old man, but your little girl? That tree-huggin' pussy cape on the news. But since y'asked so nicely, we won't hurt her, not at all. Don'chu worry, Skids'll treat her real nice, I'm sure."
There was a ringing in his ears. Around him, stuffing what valuables they could find into pockets and a bag, Danny heard the Merchants talking still. ("Man, you sure we should be doing this? Kidnap a cape?") ("S'fine man, she's a pussy, like I said. An' look, we even got a hostage.") But it washed over him, near meaningless. They were here for Taylor. They were here for Taylor. They were here to hurt Taylor.
"Let me say it again," his mouth was moving, the lines all over the house were surging. "You have made several mistakes."
"Shut your mouth, limp-dick!"
Danny looked up, straight into the glare of the flashlight. "Queen to A7."
"The fuck is that—"
The basement door shattered as the Black Queen charged through it, her scepter raised, only for the iron-heavy mace to crash down on the Merchant's gun arm. He screamed, and his compatriots yelled in alarm and grabbed for their weapons, but the house was already boiling over with Chessman's pawns. His work bag split open as plastic soldiers crawled out of it, his game bag tore on the edge of Grognak's axe and the Chimera's talons. Something crashed in the garage, the shriek of collapsing yard tools quickly drowned by the roar of an engine. The APC burst through the closed garage door, rolled over Danny's own car, then turned a tight circle of squealing tires to point its headlights into the windows of the house, illuminating the panicked interior and the refraction lighting up the roof-mounted turret.
The Black Queen chesspiece battered the thug in front of him aside, and Danny surged to his feet. Shots were fired—from his pawns or the Merchants—and splinters exploded off the nearby banister. Danny's bellow was louder.
"You think you can come in here?! You think you can come in here and hurt my family?! They'll bury you in a shoebox when I'm done with you, you son of a bitch!" The two thugs still able to walk scrambled, firing at his pawns and blowing fragments off the more fragile of them as they tried to escape. "You tell Skidmark he is fucked, do you hear me?! Now you get the hell out of my house!"
An orange light flickered, glowing brighter, as one of the thugs jumped out a window to escape the gaming miniature that was trying to grapple him. Danny saw him look back inside, gun raised to fire now that he had a clear shot—
And the wall he thought to hide behind exploded, but not from gunfire. Windows all over the first story shuddered or even broke as the Chimera roared, and the red dragon head spat a gout of fire that impacted the window frame and detonated. The thug outside was thrown back, and Danny ran out after him, nearly burning his feet on a couple of embers. He passed by the remaining thug, who had taken shelter under the kitchen table and was surrounded by plastic men with rifles, babbling a constant stream of apologies and pleas. The Chimera followed on Danny's heels.
He got outside and stood on his sidewalk—oh good, he could see the Merchant was still breathing—and slowly took in the scene. One of Chessman's APCs in the yard, half a wall broken and smoldering, the house and driveway now being patrolled by pawns and an adventuring party. Doors and windows along the street were being filled with onlookers, there was a growing sound of sirens, and here he was in his pyjama pants with no shoes or mask. Good job, Danny.
"Dad? Dad?!" Taylor's voice called out from inside, and he turned his head to watch her come down the stairs. She had the landline phone from his room in one hand, the cord stretched to the breaking point behind her, and in the other she had a bamboo stick with a bunch of paper slips on the end. She dropped the phone and ran out to stand on the sidewalk next to him, and as she did, a motion in the corner of his eye caught Danny's attention. There was a white light at the far end of the street, and in no time at all it coalesced into a familiar shape as Good Dog practically tore down the pavement, panting hard and inexplicably trailing flower petals. His daughter's power skidded to a stop near her, snuffling and whining and making every show of checking on her.
"Sunny— Sunny I'm fine, but— what's all… this…?" Taylor looked around, wide-eyed, at the devastation, the clearly visible pawns of Chessman's forces, the lawn that was only a little on fire, and the surely recognizable Chimera pacing next to him. "D-dad?"
"Taylor, honey—" Danny saw Good Dog staring at him, eyes wide, jaw dropped, canine face set in an expression of such hope, and said, "Did you get all your homework done, sweetie?"
Silence.
Taylor gaped at him. And Good Dog just… fell over. Like a tipped cow, thwump, into the grass, paralyzed by sheer disbelief. Danny looked at the dog, then at his daughter. Well.
"Also, I'm Chessman, and maybe we should talk about this."
"Uhuh," Taylor said.
"Once the police get here I'll make a pot of coffee or something and we can sit down."
"It will be tea."
"That's fair."
