"Laser cutter?" Mom asked, hand held out expectantly. Obediently, the harvester I was currently controlling picked up the requested tool and handed it to her. It would actually be pretty cute if the bot in question didn't look like a deformed foot long spider.
We had been here for a few hours now, working on what was meant to be an electronics module for the fabricator. Hopefully, completing this would mean we wouldn't have to steal from electronics stores anymore, considering how much of a target that would put on us if it continued.
Not to mention it being illegal…
I internally frowned. When I was younger, all I had wanted was to be a hero. I remembered spending hours with Emma, pretending that we were the Triumvirate, fighting the evils of the world. Now here I was, breaking into electronics stores.
I pushed that train of thought away. That doesn't matter right now, I thought. I just need to keep Mom safe.
Oblivious to my thoughts, Mom continued to work on the e-fabricator, moving with a level of care that I didn't think was physically possible for a human. Well, for an unpowered human anyways.
I watched her for a minute, observing her as she worked. It reminded me of something I had read online; namely, the ongoing research over the nature of Tinker powers. While cape scientists had originally thought that Tinker powers only gave the knowledge on how to build tinkertech, further research had demonstrated that this was not the case. In addition to the fact that most tinkertech couldn't be reverse engineered even following the exact steps the Tinker used, Tinkers in the midst of fugues had been recorded performing tasks such as shaping metal with their bare hands, changing the composition of materials in ways that seemingly defied thermodynamics, working with objects way too small for a human to even see, let alone manipulate, and other seemingly impossible tasks. In the end, the scientists had more or less thrown their hands in the air and declared that Tinker powers were just as bullshit as the rest of them.
Speaking of Tinker powers, it turned out that the issues Mom was having with her power were actually fairly simple to solve. I had spent a few days researching different ways modern society created electronics, and when I had gotten enough information, presented what I had found. While I could tell that all of them had somewhat piqued her interest, what really seemed to catch her attention was a method called scanning probe lithography. Basically, the idea was that instead of using light, electrons, or other methods to create the patterns necessary for microchip production on a separate resistive material, it used tiny probes to literally carve said patterns into the chip. While this was generally slower than the other options, Mom seemed to think she could get it to work.
I continued to watch, interested in what she was doing. At the same time, I turned my attention to the rest of the house, watching as the harvesters did their own work. Unlike the pre-fabricator harvesters, which were limited to material extraction only, many of the tools of the newer models were capable of both extracting and extruding material. While this did give them a limited construction capability, its main purpose was to allow them to repair already existing equipment.
One of the harvesters pulled open one of the house's defenses; a single shot railgun turret. Like many things Mom built, the design of the gun was… strange. While most of the design decisions made sense to me - in fact some of them were so simple yet so ingenious I had to wonder how no one had stumbled upon them yet - others just made no sense.
Why is the wiring configured like that? I wondered to myself, staring at the absolute rat's nest of wiring within the weapon. From what I could tell, there had been no care taken whatsoever to organize the wires correctly. Instead, they had been placed seemingly wherever there had been room, and while I didn't think it would impede the functioning of the weapon, it sure wasn't making it easy to maintain it.
Unfortunately, lacking the knowledge on why it actually had been built like it had, I didn't trust myself not to mess anything up by modifying it. Instead, I contented myself with untangling some of the worst of it, and maybe seeing if I could make it slightly easier for me to maintain in the future.
Things didn't get any better from there. From wires that didn't seem to connect to anything to some components seemingly being oriented the wrong way, pretty much every one of the defenses I looked into had at least one thing that made no sense. I fixed what I thought I could, though my lack of knowledge on Tinkertech made me hesitant to modify it too much.
Meanwhile, Mom was putting what I was pretty sure were the finishing touches on the electronics fabricator. I continued to watch through the assisting harvester, doing my best to figure out what she was doing.
On the bright side, I actually had a pretty good idea of how the e-fabricator design worked (though that wasn't really surprising, considering I had helped her come up with the idea in the first place). While there were still some aspects of the machine that made me want to cry, those were mostly minor components that I was pretty sure I could swap out for more sensible versions. Don't get me wrong, I still had no idea how she was making it with the tools we had available, but at least I understood what it did.
Suddenly, Mom sat up, turning the laser tool off as she did so. She shook her head, her eyes unclouding. "Okay, I think that's it." She took a minute to admire her handiwork. "So," she said as she looked at me. "Does it work?"
"Only one way to find out," I replied. With that, I turned my attention towards accessing the e-fabricator.
Accessing the things that Mom built was an interesting experience to say the least. Unlike the internet, which felt more like a network of mostly permanent structures, the networks I used when accessing Mom's tech felt far more… fluid, for lack of a better term. Things could be rearranged at any time without much effort, while some things I actively needed to hold in place myself.
Reaching through that space, it didn't take long for me to find the node representing the e-fabricator. Slowly, I slid myself around it, mapping out all of the various controls. At first glance, it didn't really seem all that different from the standard fabricator that this one would be complimenting.
After around 10 seconds of figuring out what all the controls did, I figured I was ready to try it out. I brought up the schematic for a computer chip I had been working on. Nothing too complicated, but still something that could be useful for our operations. Taking a brief moment to double check everything, I plugged it into the node.
The e-fabricator immediately sprang to life, extruding a slice of silicon that the old fabricator had refined earlier. Its many arms sprang to life, quickly cleaning any contaminants that happened to be on the silicon, before extending themselves fully over it, obscuring it from view.
As the machine whirred, Mom looked over to me. "So," she said. "From what I can tell, the first batch should be done in a couple days."
I checked the machine, "Yep," I responded, "Roughly 62 hours."
Mom nodded. "Okay, that sounds good." She looked at the machine contemplatively. "And even if it turns out that we need more than it can provide, we can always supplement it with supplies from electronics stores like we were doing before."
I winced, not really liking the thought of that. "Okay," I said. "I would prefer not to do that again, but if we have to, it's still a possibility I guess."
Mom glared at me. "And I would prefer it if we didn't have to fight the Merchants, but we can't all get what we want."
I winced again. After much debate, Mom and I had decided that we would hit the Merchants again two weeks after the first attack, mostly in order to give ourselves more time to build up. I wanted to do so sooner, in order to avoid letting them do the same, but Mom had refused to budge.
To be honest, I was actually somewhat glad about it. The more Mom focused on the struggle against the Merchants, the less likely it was that she would do anything rash regarding Emma and Sophia. On the other hand, I was concerned that the Merchants would use that time to shore up their defenses, making things more difficult in the long run.
Thankfully, the skitters I had patrolling the Trainyard to watch for that exact thing hadn't reported much in the way of activity from the Merchants. Other than making some very makeshift fortifications, the Merchants seemed to mostly be sitting around doing nothing other than smoking, snorting, or otherwise consuming whatever drugs they happened to have with them.
Today, it had been thirteen days since that first attack, meaning that we now only had one day left until the second, and Mom was clearly nervous about it. We didn't really have much of a choice though. Doing nothing would result in the Merchants taking over the Trainyard, which was completely unacceptable for our long term survival. I had read online about what happened to Tinkers that weren't able to defend themselves, and what I had found would be enough to give me nightmares were I still able to have them. No, the Merchants had to go.
"On the bright side," I said, "I think I've managed to come up with a weapon capable of dealing with Mush."
Apparently, the Merchant cape we had fought was named Mush of all things. Really, that shouldn't have surprised me, considering the gang he was a part of, but really? Mush?
Despite his horrible name, Mush was apparently not someone to be underestimated. His power seemed to be the ability to accumulate loose debris below a certain mass and volume in the area around him, which could be used to both protect him and to increase his strength.
And to make makeshift projectiles, I thought to myself.
"Oh?" Mom said. "And what did you come up with?"
I put a smile on the face of my avatar as I brought a picture of the weapon I had created onto the screen. Mom stared at it for a second, before looking back to me, a disbelieving look on her face.
"Really Taylor?" she asked.
---
The trainyard was quiet as my two new scout units raced overhead, scanning for any sign of the Merchants. Unlike my previous designs, which tended towards an insectoid form, the new bots resembled more traditional quadcopter drones, with the only obvious differences from those commercial models being their adaptive camouflage coating and ducted toroidal propellers.
Meanwhile, back at home, Mom watched the screen in front of her, nervously fidgeting. For a moment, I considered putting my avatar back on the screen, before deciding it wouldn't help.
I felt a brief feeling of distaste as I thought about my avatar. It wasn't anything particular about the avatar itself, it was just… the way I had to manually make it take on every single expression I wanted it to just felt dishonest, even when said expressions matched what I was actually feeling. I knew it was necessary for Mom's mental health, but still, I hated it. It felt like I was somehow lying to her, even though I knew I wasn't.
I was pulled out of my thoughts by a ping from one of the scouts; apparently they had found something. Looking through their sensors, I immediately saw what it was; a large group of 26 Merchants hiding inside an abandoned warehouse, with Mush being among them. If I still had a mouth, I would have smiled.
"Found them," I told Mom, putting the image up on her screen.
Mom leaned in, looking closely. "Huh. They look almost like they're expecting an attack."
"Yeah," I agreed, seeing that Mush already had encased himself. "To be fair, they were attacked by a swarm of robot spiders just two weeks ago, and who knows what Trainwreck's been doing. Last time I saw him, he didn't exactly seem eager to let people stroll around here."
She shrugged. "Fair enough I suppose."
With the target in sight, I activated the second part of the plan. All around the Trainyard, scrap piles shifted as the machines hiding within them clawed their way out. Because we had so many skitters (sixteen to be exact), it had been decided that sending them all to the Trainyard in one big wave would be dangerously likely to get us found out. Instead, we had sent them out in pairs, one per day as we approached the date of the attack. Once they arrived, they were ordered to bury themselves and power down, only to reactivate once they received the proper signal or if they were found by someone else (obviously, the latter option would not end well for whoever woke them up).
The now reactivated skitters moved to the outskirts of the building, each sending me a ping as they arrived.
Once the last of them arrived, it was time for the third stage of the plan. Slowly easing the scouts into the building through some broken windows, I quickly mapped out the exact location of each Merchant member. As I did so, I also began to move the skitters into the best possible positions relative to the Merchants.
I had fixed the skitters' navigation systems since the last time, meaning they weren't likely to knock something over again. Even still, I did my best to path them around any precariously placed items. Luckily, the Merchants didn't notice, with the ones closest to me too wrapped up in their conversation to notice me.
On a whim, I increased the sensitivity of my microphones. While I knew it probably didn't matter, I was curious about what they were talking about.
"...And then he just keeled over. We checked his pulse, but he was gone."
"Fucking idiot. Told him not to take that stuff, and then he goes and does it anyway."
"Eh, not really much of a loss if you ask me. Shame about Tim though; those two were close…"
I felt a brief pang of sympathy for whoever they were talking about. Back at Winslow, it was hard not to go about your day without encountering a symptom of the Bay's drug problem. While I wasn't exactly close with any of the students there, hearing about someone dying from an overdose wasn't uncommon.
Finally, my bots reached their assigned positions. After double checking that everything was ready to go, I turned my attention to Mom.
"Ready?" I asked.
She shrugged nervously. "As much as I'll ever be."
"Alright," I said. "Starting… now."
As one, the assembled bots opened fire. As I did last time, I primarily aimed for joints, doing my best to avoid lethal injuries. I wasn't a murderer after all.
Despite their (admittedly limited) preparations, the Merchants were not ready for an attack of this scale and speed. By the time they had even realized what was happening, 8 of them had already been rendered combat ineffective.
The Merchants reacted surprisingly quickly for a group as high on drugs as they were. Immediately after realizing they were under attack, most of them dove for cover, taking shelter behind the crude barricades they had assembled.
Unfortunately for them, I had learned from our last encounter. Prior to the fight, I had directed some of the skitters to climb up onto the wall behind the Merchant camp, where they would be able to hit the Merchants even while they were behind cover. Now, those skitters fired as well, catching many of the Merchants in an awkward position. If they stayed, they would be pinned between my bots and their own cover, but if they moved, they would be exposing themselves to the rest of the bots.
Caught in this catch 22, the bulk of the Merchant force didn't last much longer, being quickly whittled down by the two opposing storms of gunfire.
As the last of the unpowered Merchants either fell or fled the scene, I turned my attention to Mush. While the cape had started the fight trying to give cover to the rest of the Merchants, he had abandoned this after realizing that they were encircled, instead trying to run down the skitters.
"You know, you would think that after last time, he would realize that this isn't an efficient way to fight us," I offhandedly commented to Mom.
Mom raised an eyebrow. "You're looking at the wrong group if you're looking for critical thinking, Taylor."
I considered that for a quarter second. "Fair enough," I replied. On a whim, I ordered the skitter that Mush was currently chasing to zigzag from side to side. Attempting to follow the rapid movements, Mush found himself tripping over his own feet as he overestimated his own coordination. Deciding to help him along, I ordered the skitters to open fire.
Already unbalanced from his poorly thought out movements, the force from half a dozen pistols repeatedly striking him was enough to remove the little stability he had left. With a thunderous crash, Mush fell forwards, sending some of the looser trash clinging to him flying.
Suddenly, the trash that made up Mush's armor flowed, briefly abandoning its humanoid shape. When it stopped flowing, Mush was back on his feet.
Rather than attack, Mush took several steps away from me, likely to catch his breath. I used the opportunity to move some of the skitters into better positions.
Meanwhile, Mush had begun to go on a rant. "Do you have any idea who you're picking a fight with, cocksucker?" he yelled. "Do you know who you're fucking with?" He took a few steps forward. "By the time we're done with you, you'll look more like Skidmark's namesake than anything else!"
While he ranted, I was busy moving my newest weapon into position. Unlike the pistols, which were mostly meant for fighting non-powered individuals, this weapon was built from the ground up to counter well protected capes, or in this case, Mush. Also unlike the pistols, the weapon was big enough that a skitter would not be able to carry enough ammo to make it useful. Instead, a modified harvester was used, it's storage space proving invaluable for the large ammunition the weapon required.
As soon as the weapon's bore was aligned with Mush, it fired. Three micro-rockets - each 15 millimeters in diameter - soared outwards, starting out relatively slow, but rapidly gaining speed as they flew.
Mush was still monologuing when the weapon fired, and as such did not have time to react. The rockets plowed into him, breaking open to release their thermite laced payloads.
The reaction was immediate. At the location of each hit, blindingly bright flames exploded into existence, rapidly melting through everything they touched. Mush screamed, panickedly attempting to toss every bit of trash that had been touched by the flames.
Taking advantage of this, I had the launcher fire a burst of three more rockets at him. The skitters fired as well, aiming to cause as much confusion as possible.
Mush was apparently far quicker than I gave him credit for. Within a few seconds of the second volley hitting, he had mostly recovered from his initial panic, switching from just tossing the burning scrap everywhere to directing it towards the skitters.
Seriously? For a moment, I felt disappointed in how quickly he had gotten over my attack. While the launcher wasn't exactly a complicated weapon, I had still spent a good amount of time developing it, and to see Mush adapt to it so quickly was just depressing.
Well, whatever. Despite the setbacks, the launcher was still somewhat useful for destroying Mush's armor. Pausing only long enough to reposition the launcher, I hurled another volley of rockets into Mush, feeling another surge of annoyance as he just threw off the parts that were burning. In response, Mush grabbed one of the crates nearest to him and threw it at where he thought the launcher was. I could tell even before it left his hands that it would land nowhere near the launcher, and as such it did not bother to move.
For another three minutes and 32 seconds we continued to fight like that, the skitters and launcher constantly bombarding Mush with bullets and rockets, while Mush just threw whatever he could get his hands on at me. It was, in fact, uncannily similar to my first battle with him, minus the fact that I had taken out all of the unpowered Merchants this time around.
Unfortunately, one thing that held true from the last fight was my relatively low amount of ammo. While I had attempted to remedy that issue by using harvesters as ammo replenishment units, it seemed that I had underestimated the rate at which I burnt through ammo. Worse, the launcher was starting to run low on ammo as well. Unlike the skitters, the ammo using the launcher was somewhat difficult to make, and as such I wasn't able to make enough to justify a second unit.
I felt a surge of anger. I had come so close to winning, only to be tripped up by the same stupid error as last time. Really, I should have guessed that the launcher wouldn't have the effect I was hoping for on Mush. I had known from the start that he could discard his armor whenever he wanted to, and while I had hoped the fire would force him to drop much of his protection to get it off, I had underestimated the level of control he had over said armor.
I was getting ready to tell Mom that we would have to leave when I heard it; a low rumbling, getting louder as time went on. At first, I thought it was just the late night traffic. However, as the noise got louder and clearer, it became obvious that it was something else.
Suddenly, there was a massive boom that shook the warehouse. The warehouse doors, which had been blocked off by the Merchants with random crates, flew open, scattering said crates and their contents everywhere.
Following right on the heels of the blast came a large gray motorcycle, which skidded to a stop with seemingly impossible deceleration.
The rider looked around the room, a grim look on the visible lower half of his face. If I was still flesh and blood, my breath would have likely caught in my throat as I immediately realized who this was; Armsmaster, one of the most decorated heroes in the country, renowned Tinker, and the leader of the Brockton Bay Protectorate.
Survey of the room complete, Armsmaster stood up, grabbing an object from his back as he did so. Idly, I noted that his motorcycle continued to stay upright, despite seemingly lacking any stand.
With a flick of his wrist, the object telescoped outwards, transforming into a long halberd. Moving into a fighting stance, he looked between the assembled bots and Mush, seemingly waiting for one of us to make the first move.
As it turned out, that person was Mush. With a yell, the trash cape grabbed yet another crate, and lobbed it at Armsmaster. The hero, seemingly nonplussed, sidestepped the projectile with a precision I wouldn't have expected from a human, and pointed his halberd at Mush.
With a sharp click, a thin cable shot out of the weapon, zipping through the air straight towards the Merchant cape. To his credit, Mush reacted immediately, slapping the cable out of the way. Armsmaster was prepared for this however, and whipped the cable back towards Mush. With a sharp crack, the cable slammed into Mush, knocking him to the side with a force seemingly out of proportion to the mass of the whip.
Seizing this opportunity, Armsmaster sprinted towards Mush, withdrawing the cable as he did so. Within seconds, he had reached the villain. Rather than stopping however, he continued to run, sticking his halberd out to the side. Mush reached out, attempting to grab Armsmaster, but the hero ducked down, easily avoiding him. His halberd on the other hand, struck Mush straight in the leg, slicing straight through with seemingly no resistance.
With a surprised yell, Mush collapsed to the ground. Once again the trash making up his form began to shift as he tried to stand up. Realizing what he was doing, I ordered the bots to open fire. Dozens of bullets slammed against Mush, knocking some of the junk hanging to him loose, and disrupting the movement of the rest. Armsmaster, meanwhile skidded to a stop. The blade of his halberd shifted, and a blinding blue beam of flame blasted from it.
As Mush again tried to stand up, Armsmaster swung the fiery blade down at him. The blazing shaft cut right through him, igniting those materials that were flammable and melting those that weren't.
Mush yelped, scrambling away, but Armsmaster didn't let up, hitting him again and again, burning away more of the trash with each hit.
Seeing an opportunity, I had the launcher fire another volley. All five of the rockets launched struck home, adding more flames to the already burning villain. With as many flames as there were, Mush couldn't just toss them all away like he was doing earlier.
Realizing how bad his situation was, Mush seemingly decided it was time to cut his losses. Forcing Armsmaster away with a backhanded swing, Mush started a loping run towards the door.
Oh no you don't… Realizing that he was trying to escape, I quickly moved some of the skitters to block him off. Recognising that trying to stop a cape that weighed at least a hundred times as much as a skitter was a lost cause, I instead focussed as much firepower as possible onto him from that direction, including the last of the micro-rockets. The latter I aimed for the legs, hoping to unbalance him again.
Mush stumbled as the rockets hit, the difficulty of running while removing his burning armor throwing him off.
As Mush struggled to regain his balance, Armsmaster began to move towards him, halberd raised. However, Mush managed to recover before he reached him. He was out the door a bit over a second after, and sprinted off into the night.
At first, I thought Armsmaster was going to sprint after him, but the hero simply watched as Mush got further and further away, until he turned a corner and vanished from view.
As soon as Mush was out of view, Armsmaster let out a breath and lowered his halberd, which clicked and shifted back into its bladed configuration.
Armsmaster turned around and started to slowly walk towards the skitters. Interestingly, the way his vision swung between the bots made me suspect he had some way to track them.
Well, I never did get around to finishing that thermal camo system…
Suddenly, I felt curious over what kind of tech the Protectorate leader was packing. Interest piqued, I tuned some of the skitters' sensors to look through some of the more common materials I would expect to see a tinker to use, seeing what I could find.
What I found was… confusing. While with Mom's tech I could generally grasp at least the basics of how a device worked, with Armsmaster's gear, not even that held true. Most of what I could see was completely incomprehensible. Honestly, it probably would have given me a headache if I still had a brain.
Armsmaster stopped around ten feet away from the bots. For a good while, neither of us said a word, instead just staring at the other. Finally, 12.6 seconds into the stare off, he spoke.
"Are you going to fight me?" he asked.
I paused, surprised. Why did he… oh, yeah, I guess a horde of robotic bugs wasn't the most heroic thing in the world, even if it was fighting against drug dealers.
Luckily, I had made sure to install speakers into the skitters, meaning that I would not be forced through the embarrassment of writing my words out on the ground.
"No, I am not. Are you going to attack me?" I asked, speaking in an androgynous voice that I had spent a little while setting up.
He was silent for a moment, once again looking over the bots. "Are you a villain?" he asked, instead of answering my question.
"No, I am not," I answered, probably somewhat dishonestly. Based on Mom's snort, it seemed she agreed with me on that.
Armsmaster grunted, and lowered his halberd, which he had been slowly moving upwards. "You're an independent then."
"Yes," I responded.
"I see," he paused. "Have you considered joining the Protectorate?"
Uhh… "Yes. I decided it would not be a good fit."
"You might want to reconsider. With the gang conflict as it is, all of them are looking for new members. You are a Tinker, yes?" Taking my silence as confirmation, he continued. "Tinkers and Thinkers are unique among capes in that they are highly valuable, yet relatively easy to contain. As such, it is not unknown for gangs to coerce them into joining. Joining the Protectorate would protect you from this. In addition, you would be given far more resources than you would be able to obtain on your own, and would have the opportunity for collaboration with some-"
"Thank you for the offer," I interrupted, "but my answer stays the same."
Armsmaster's jaw shifted. "I see." He looked around at the various bots. "You seem to have found your own way of obtaining materials. May I ask how?"
I thought for a dozen milliseconds on how to answer. Coming to the conclusion that partial honesty was the best, I responded, "I have been making periodic trips to the Trainyard for raw materials. It has everything I need."
Armsmaster nodded. "Interesting. I was not aware that this place had much in the way of electronic components, and based on your specialty," he gestured at a skitter, "I would expect that you would need a lot of material from that category."
"We have our own way of making electronics," I said. Still technically true, I thought to myself.
Armsmaster looked at the bots for a few seconds. "Interesting," he eventually said. "Out of curiosity, would you happen to know anything about a series of break ins targeting electronic stores over the last several weeks?"
Oh shit. Back at home, I could see Mom tense up in her seat.
"No, I have not," I replied. For once, the clunky nature of the avatar system was working in my favor. While the original me would have struggled to keep my voice steady, my new vocal system wouldn't inject any irregularities unless I specifically added them in. As such, my voice came out perfectly smooth.
Armsmaster frowned at that. "Hm," he grunted. "Well, regardless, I would have to suggest that you come to the PRT headquarters for a debriefing regarding tonight."
"Once again, I do not believe that to be a good idea."
Armsmaster seemed to glower at me; it was hard to tell behind his mask. "Could you explain why?"
I didn't say anything.
The awkward silence between us was interrupted by a groan from one of the Merchants. Armsmaster turned to look at him, his frown deepening further as he did so.
"You are using lethal weapons." A statement, not a question.
"All of my shots targeted joints, and were aimed away from major arteries," I said somewhat defensively.
The cape scowled at me. "That does not change the fact that the level of force you used was excessive to an inexcusable degree. If a member of the Protectorate did this, they would be lucky if they were reassigned to a containment zone."
I considered reminding him that I was not a member of the Protectorate, but I doubted that would end well.
"Miss Militia uses guns all the time," I pointed out instead.
"One," Armsmaster raised a finger. "Miss Militia's power is based around firearms. While she can make other weapons, the most effective for her are firearms." He pointed at me. "You, on the other hand, are a Tinker. Unless your speciality is also based around firearms, which I do not believe it is, you have other options available to you. You are just choosing not to use them."
He paused for a second before continuing. "Two," he said while holding up two fingers. "Miss Militia uses less lethal ammunition in all but the most extreme cases. Meanwhile, you used lethal ammunition, despite there being no reason to do so."
I considered this for a second. It was true that against the Merchants, I probably could have used rubber bullets without much issue. On the other hand, the skitters' main goal was the defense of Mom and I, and I didn't want to decrease their effectiveness in that.
"Thank you for the suggestion, but the main purpose of these bots is defensive operations, and I would not feel comfortable decreasing my defenses in such a way. As you pointed out, independent Tinkers are often in significant danger of being abducted, and I would prefer to keep the chances of that to a minimum."
"And I also doubt that you would feel comfortable in a cell," Armsmaster retorted.
I paused, considering how to respond. On the other end of the screen, Mom visibly paled.
Eventually, I figured that bluntness was the way to go. "Are you going to arrest me?" I asked.
Armsmaster glared at me for a few seconds, before sighing. "No," he said, "I am not. On top of not being able to, I am also guessing that you are new to this. As such, I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt." He paused. "That being said, this is not a blank check to do whatever you want. Actions have consequences, and unless you clean up your act, you may not like the results of yours."
He paused after saying that. Realizing that he was waiting for me to respond, I said, "I will keep that in mind."
He nodded. "Good. Despite us having gotten off to a rough start, I am happy to see a new hero on the street." He smiled at me. It was actually somewhat jarring, probably because he had spent most of this conversation scowling. "Have you come up with a name for yourself?"
"I'm afraid not." Turning back to Mom, I asked, "Do you have any ideas?"
Mom gave me an incredulous look. "Don't ask me, you're the one who got yourself into this mess."
Meanwhile, Armsmaster was chuckling. "Well, you might want to come up with one soon, before you get stuck with one you don't like," he said. "Wouldn't be the first time that's happened to someone."
"I see. Thank you," I said, not really sure how to reply. Truth be told, my social skills had declined sharply since highschool, and my ability to process information faster only partially made up for that. Confrontation? Sure, I could deal with that, even if my method was to just wait for the other person to go away. Friendly conversation? Uhh…
Luckily, Armsmaster did not seem to mind. "You are very welcome," he said. "Now, I'm going to call this in. While I can't force you to stay, I would suggest that you do so.
I considered this. While I really didn't want to get interrogated by the PRT or whoever else would arrive, it did seem like a good idea to at least give them my perspective on what happened here. Turning to Mom, I asked, "What do you think?"
Mom looked concerned. "I don't think it's a good idea," she said. "I don't trust them to not confiscate the bots if they think they can get away with it."
"Why do you think that?" I asked.
"Taylor, Armsmaster already let on that they suspect us for the break ins," she said. "There is no way that he's just going to let that go. I think we should just leave."
While I did see her point, I didn't quite agree with her. That being said, I didn't really think this was worth arguing over. "Alright," I said. I turned my attention back to Armsmaster. "Sorry, but I don't think that's a good idea."
Armsmaster gave a curt nod. "So be it," he said. "While I don't think you are making the right choice here, it is your choice to make." With that, he turned around, and began walking towards the wrecked Merchant encampment.
With the conversation clearly being over, I ordered the bots to leave the building. As they did, I turned back to Mom. "Well," I said cheerfully. "That went well."
Mom didn't say anything, instead just giving me an incredulous look.
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Thank you for reading!
