In Nuclear Fire 50
Today is May 5th, two days after my meeting with Glory Girl, and I have a very important question in mind:
What's wrong with these people?
And, more importantly, what's wrong with me for reading through their mad ramblings?
After a long and hard look at myself, I conclude that I'm a masochist. Not like that came as a big surprise, honestly. What brought to me this revelation was making the mistake of searching PHO for comments on our meeting.
Big mistake.
I remember that in my previous life it came as a big shock discovering the amount of fanfiction about K-POP groups. Well, it seems that with the foreign entertainment industry in ruins because of the Endbringers, that obsession has turned to capes and their culture.
Case in point: there are already discussions about me (or better said, Tech-Priest) with Glory Girl. Not in PHO, of course. Any discussion there involving minors is quickly exterminated, but there are many adjacent sites where those rules don't apply, and where people are allowed to let their deviant fantasies flourish.
Like the one about Gallant and I ending together after Glory Girl broke our hearts. That one made me shudder a bit.
Or the one where I revealed I was a girl all along underneath my armor but Glory Girl accepted me all the same. That one, admittedly, I enjoyed a lot more.
Moving to more relevant topics, we continued refining the idea of our upcoming enterprise. Mostly by having Tattletale clear up the legal hellscape we'll be working on.
Earth Bet's parahuman laws are draconian, convoluted, and aimed not at helping capes develop but at keeping them firmly under control. It's the way through which the numerically superior 'normals' keep themselves believing that they are the ones in charge, that capes serve them, and that there's no risk of Eidolon one day simply taking over the world.
They don't know that has already happened. They lost that battle years ago.
In any case, the law is very clear. A parahuman can't own a business, at least not without unmasking as New Wave did, and they can't compete in a field where their powers give them an 'unfair' advantage over their unpowered rivals. That's why we don't see parahumans working in the construction industry or why Tattletale can't openly sell her services to a corporation. Parian can sell her dresses, though, because dressmaking is also an art form, and her power doesn't help her in the field.
If a Parahuman wants to receive a salary, they need to prove that the services they provide are unique and irreproducible by normal means. That's why corporate teams exist, as they are uniquely qualified to go against the villains their corporations send them after.
So far, so good.
Thanks to our portals and drone network, our delivery service will be distinctive enough. Now, someone would ask: wasn't it illegal to use tinkertech with the masses? Well, here's the thing: it's not. Tinkers can sell their products but only after they have been approved by a panel of experts, a process that's slow, expensive, and needs to be done to each item individually. That's why no one does it and why ToyBox is a thing. But there's another side to all this because there's a grey area: it may be illegal to sell tinkertech to civilians, but the law says nothing about providing services with it.
And there are even some tinkers who do exactly this, the most successful example being a tinker in Louisiana who makes his living as an exterminator. But cases like his are rare and far in-between. It's probably because of how expensive building and maintaining tinkertech is, but most tinkers simply don't see this as a viable source of income. That's why they tend to fall with the PRT or some gang that can provide them with the materials they need.
Whatever the case, this is the breach in the wall through which we'll push.
Or at least we'll do that as soon as we finish with the paperwork needed to start with this endeavor, and once Taylor returns from school.
Until then, I have my own mission to fulfill: finishing The Fight's new body. The body is already done, but the integration with her core, the firmware, and the calibrations will take me the rest of the morning.
At least I'm not the only one not feeling particularly motivated. In a corner across the room, the four turrets are lazily rolling a ball, passing it to each other like kids failing to entertain themselves.
With nothing else to do while I idly type, I look at what Newt's doing.
She's seated behind a desk inside an office that Tattletale got for us. It's close to our base, was recently repaired and refurbished, and will eventually become the HQ of our business. But for now, it's the place where she'll be conducting the interviews with the prospective candidates.
Not Greg, though, as he'll be coming during the afternoon.
Nor Kurt either, as he hasn't answered our calls yet.
But the third one that Taylor noted. A young man in his mid-twenties carrying a briefcase who, as he approaches Newt's office, glances over his shoulder as if he didn't know what he was supposed to be doing.
He reaches the door, raises his fist, but then stops. Takes a step to the side, looks at his reflection in the glass and fixes his hair. Goes back to the door but once again fails to knock, and this time he fixes his shirt.
This is his first time coming to a job interview, isn't it? I want to believe I didn't look nearly that much of a wreck when I had my first time.
While we wait for him to make a move, an alarm rings through our sensors. It's nothing new, just a couple of gang members of the Empire entering our territory. Normally Taylor would have already dealt with them, drowning them in a sea of insects, but with her at Arcadia Newt has to do it with the Mecha Zerglings.
With that problem out of the way, Newt calls for the nervous guy who still hasn't gone in
"Hey! Get in here already!"
Her voice makes the guy jump off his skin but it does the trick. He walks in, his hand extended. "H-hello, my name is-" But stops on a dime when he realizes that Newt has two pairs of arms. He switches to one and then to the other, unsure of which hand he should be shaking.
His antics make Newt burst out in laughter before standing up and accepting the handshake with her human-sized ones. "Don't be so nervous! I don't bite," she says with a wide grin that exposes her teeth. "And, please, take a seat."
He does, clutching his briefcase against his chest as if he was a child hugging his teddy bear before going to sleep.
As first impressions go, his could have gone a bit better, but considering our position as a barely legal enterprise I'm not sure if we'll get much better.
Noting that he isn't speaking, Newt does it for him. "So, what brings you here?"
He gulps and from his briefcase, he pulls out a piece of paper. "Y-your flyer."
For the love of--
"Yes, yes, that," Newt dismisses it with a wave of her hands. "But what truly motivated you to come? Why do you want to work for us and not someone else?"
There's a sound of groaning leather as his fingers clutch the sides of his briefcase In a gesture that I recognize as someone redying a well-rehearsed script. "You saved my dad."
Well, he didn't say 'to get girls', but he'll have to be more specific than that.
"Oh, yes, the work that-" Newt interrupts herself, "Tech-Priest and Ladybug have been doing with Medhall is truly noteworthy." I can see the physical strain she goes through to not call us 'Master' and 'Empress'. She may like it, but we made it clear that she should only call us that in private.
"No, no. This was weeks before that." His voice sounds strained and so Newt hands him a glass of water that he empties in one gulp. "Dad was returning home from a party late at night when some thieves assaulted him." Wait, that sounds familiar. "They- they stabbed him. The medics told us that he'd have died if they hadn't been there to rescue him."
And now that sounds very familiar!
It happened during one of our first nights out. It was thanks to Taylor that we found out about the attack. Her and her bugs' sense of smell.
She had been so ecstatic when we found out the following day that the newspaper had written an article on the incident.
God, there had been so much blood. In my previous life, I received training on first aid but nothing can prepare you for the reality of the situation. For holding a life in your hands as if it was a flower of glass, knowing that the tiniest mistake could result in its extinction. I had been trembling like a leaf, and once it was over I promised myself never again to be unprepared for a situation like that. That's what led to the upgrade that the Zerg received using Deus Ex technology.
Of all the things I have done in my life, that's a decision that I don't regret.
I shake my head, realizing that my trip down memory lane almost distracted me from the alert of a second Empire incursion.
Two on the same day? Someone's feeling bold today.
And-- a third one? Something's not right here.
Well, nothing that copious amounts of Zerglings can't fix.
So, what was I doing? Oh, yes, listening in at the interview.
"And I feel this is a good way to repay you for what you did for us," the guy finishes what sounded like quite the heroic declaration.
One that, if it moved Newt at all, she doesn't let it show in her face. "So, what are your skills?"
"I'm studying to be a journalist. And I have experience working different part-time jobs." He explains as he presents more papers that Newt ignores.
"Do you have any experience managing people?"
That vital question makes him flinch. "I admit I don't. Will that be a problem?"
Not a question that your prospective employer wants to hear -ever- but Newt doesn't seem to mind. "Oh, no!" She laughs, patting his shoulder with a hand as big as the guy's torso. "Having the right attitude is far more important than having the right skills. The latter can easily be fixed with blood and sweat, the former not so much. So, come with me buddy, let's walk around the streets so I can see--"
Her words get interrupted by the sound of another alarm, this one louder than the rest.
It informs us of a fourth Empire incursion.
Then a fifth, a sixth, and a seventh.
My hair stands on end.
I'm about to count the ninth group of empire goons when an entire front of my sensor network collapses.
It's like a white static shadow crawling over our territory, as wide as half a city block. It just keeps advancing, my systems reporting errors whenever they try to analyze it.
This is wrong. What the fuck is that?
A portal opens to my side, leading to the office where Newt was conducting the interview.
The guy at her back looks around in panic, not knowing what's going on.
You and me both, buddy.
"Escort him out of here!" Newt orders, stepping into our base while throwing a thumb over her shoulder. "Route seven should be safe."
The turrets spring into action, aiming their guns at our potential new member. "You heard the lady, bozo. Start walking!"
The portal closes and that's as far as I hear of that exchange.
"Newt!" I rush to her side. "What's going on?"
"I'm about to find out." Despite the situation, there's a dash of excitement in her voice. Like if she had been looking forward to something like this.
Using The Illusion, Newt creates a map of Brockton Bay. In it, we see the reports of enemy activity reflected as red flashing dots, most of them concentrated to the south of our territory, but with many other scattered attacks taking place all over the border.
This isn't a daily incursion. This isn't a group of youngsters with more hatred in their bodies than brains trying to hurt some innocent people. This isn't the Empire trying to test our defenses either.
This is a full invasion.
"I need visuals," Newt commands. "Can anyone give me visuals?"
A new screen opens, revealing the live video feed of one of our spy bugs, the same strain that I sent to infiltrate Coil's base.
What I see is pandemonium.
People run from an unseen attacker, some of them with children in their arms or with the few possessions they can carry. Those that trip and fall are quickly trampled over by those coming behind them. I see balloons scattered, food trucks left abandoned, and chairs in the middle of the street being pushed out of the way. Was a party taking place?
These are our people. The ones we swore to protect.
A job we are failing at.
But vengeance will be ours as soon as we can figure out what we're dealing with.
As if listening to my thoughts, we catch a glimpse of the attacker, and the cause behind the confusion reigning across the hive.
It's as if an army more than seven hundred years old had risen to lay havoc on the world. What we are facing are dozens, if not hundreds of white shades flying in circles across the streets, forcing the living to flee in a panic if they don't want to be assaulted. Whenever my sensors focus on them, they get scrambled, incapable of deciphering what exactly they are looking at.
"Crusader's ghosts," I gasp in horror and anger as I see one of the shades stab a woman on the thigh with their translucid spears. The shades can't interact with inorganic matter, being able to phase through walls as easily as armor, but they can hurt a person with their weapons the same way that they can strangle them with their ghostly hands.
At least Crusader seems to be content with just harming his victims and not killing them.
That small mercy turns into sadic amusement when a massive metallic paw steps on her, crushing her ribcage.
My armor keeps the bile down as the image switches, focussing on three massive figures walking down the streets. Two of them are a pair of twins dressed like Valkyries, as tall as three stories buildings, and the third one is a wolf of metal as big as a bus.
Fenja, Menja, and Hookwolf. Three capes that the zerglings wouldn't be able to even scratch.
Behind them comes a group of gang members armed with a variety of military and homemade weapons. Vehicles are knocked over, buildings are set on fire, and I don't want to imagine what they do with the stragglers that they capture.
They will all die. And their deaths won't be either fast or painless.
"So that's what you want, uh?" Newt grins like a feral animal about to close her maws around the neck of her prey. "Okay, let's do this!" She gestures with her hands, and as she does new shapes come to life across the map. It's the Hive, waking up. "I'm deploying the Hydralisks to search and destroy valuable targets. And as soon as-"
The Fight arrives from her patrol, teleporting to our side using the Blink Band.
"Ah, my friend! There you are." Newt beams. "Are you ready for battle?"
As if there was any reason to question that.
Of course she is. She is The Fight. It's in her very nature to match herself against the worst that the world has to offer and never back down. But against this? She'll be outclassed. Even with the Blink Band and the Psy-Blade, she struggled against Lung, and here the Empire will be expecting her.
Against any of them individually I'd trust her without a doubt, but against all three of them working together? And who knows what else they have in reserve? Crusader shouldn't be able to hurt them thanks to their inorganic nature, but we can't risk it. I won't risk them.
But, at the same time, we can't let them rampage at their leisure.
Blood has to be paid with blood.
"No," I state, stopping the girls from going out. "Not yet." I look at Newt right in the eyes. "Can you hold them back on your own for a couple more minutes?"
She slams a fist into an opened palm. "Me alone against the strongest capes of this city in a guerrilla war? Oh, this will be glorious!"
It won't be. It will be messy, dirty, and confusing.
Our first real parahuman battle since fighting Lung. A battle that almost killed us.
This time we have better weapons, but our enemies are better prepared, they are more numerous and better organized. They are also the ones on the offensive. The ones who chose this battleground.
Death is a real possibility.
"Don't take unnecessary risks, understand?"
The recovery system I created should work on her. Her mind is connected to the Khaydarin network just like the Turrets are, but hers is far more complex. If her body is destroyed, will she remain the same as before?
I don't want to find out.
"Don't worry, master," she tells me with a reassuring smile that almost makes me believe that everything will go fine. "I do remember the promise I made to you."
She will come back to me. She has to.
Before she leaves, The Fight gives her the Blink Band and the Psy Blade for extra security.
"Now go!" I tell her, hating myself for sending her into danger, hating her for wanting to go, and hating the world for the position it put us in.
It is how it is.
If I ordered her to stay she may obey me, but I promised to defend her choices whatever they may be. She made it quite clear, she is a warrior, and her life is this.
In many ways, I envy how simple and easy-going she is. Even when I don't understand her, part of me wished to be a bit more like her.
Instead of that, here I am worrying about the many ways this could go wrong.
But that's not the only thing I can do.
Each one of us has our mission and purpose. Like cogs in a machine, as long as each part does its job, everything will go right. Focussing on what's directly in front of me is the only thing that matters. That, and trusting that Newt will do her part too.
"The Fight, to your card!"
When was the last time she went back to it?
Well, she has been forced to return to it multiple times in the last couple of days since her training with Newt started, but it was always a temporary thing. Now she'll need to stay there while I work.
I wonder, can she dream?
A meaningless question with an equally meaningless answer.
I pick the card up from the table where it rests.
Was it always this heavy? It feels big and cumbersome in my hand.
I walk to my newest project, the body that will house her mind from here on. I did my best to make it look like her original body, but at first glance the differences become obvious. Her shoulders are ball-joints, there are metallic studs in her face where the artificial skin connects to the endoskeleton, and her feet are fully metallic to accommodate the rockets that will allow her to fly.
There will be no hiding what she is after this, but that's fine. Let our enemies look at her and tremble in fear.
The back of the android's head opens and I plug the card in, becoming a permanent part of its structure as the Khaydarin networks fuse into one.
But it's not enough. The body may be ready, but her new systems, not so much. It's the connection between the brain and her limbs where the problem lays. I was going to dedicate the rest of the day fine-tuning it, but we're out of time. I need the new The Fight ready and I need her now! But my fingers simply can't move fast enough. I can't do this on my own.
What I can do is cheat. Or ask for help from a higher being.
I swallow hard as I start typing. "Okay, Shard, I know how this is." It will hear me. I will make myself heard. "I know what you want. You want conflict and data, don't you? You want violence. You want to test yourself against the best and show how superior you are. Haven't I been a good host? Haven't I given you all that you want?" It will do as I say or by heaven's sake, I'll find a way to teach it pain. "So you better give this to me, or I promise that I'll make Leet look like Jack Slash next to the hell of boredom I'll put you through. Is that what you want? Me, as a hermit, living on roots and bugs inside a cave in the middle of nowhere? You know I'd do it. You know how spiteful I can be. So tell me, Shard, whatever your name may be. Do you accept my terms?"
It doesn't answer. Of course it doesn't. What sort of answer could I have been waiting for? Some faux celestial chorus descending from the skies?
Please.
If I wanted one of those, I'd have built it myself.
But now, my focus must be The Fight. She needs me, just as much as Newt does. Our friend is out there with the odds against her, fighting against bastards that will take no prisoners if they manage to get their hands on one of us.
Against my best instincts, I glance at the ongoing battle.
The broken carcasses of shattered zerglings lay spread all over the streets. Little more than annoyances against the brutes of the Empire.
In the distance there's an enemy combatant with a grenade in his hand. The spine of a Hydralisk blows the arm off, and then the grenade blows the rest up.
I need to type faster.
Lines of code appear one after the other.
Next to Fenja, Newt looks as small as a toddler. Her sword explodes in a torrent of fire that leaves a gash all across the back of the giant Valkyrie, from waist to shoulder. Before the attack can continue, Menja intervenes to save her sister forcing Newt to teleport away.
Faster!
Hookwolf charges at her, but Newt is tough enough to resist the impact of a cannonball. She just punches him in the snout, sending him through a nearby building. The roof then collapses on top of him, but it's little more than an annoyance against the beast of steel.
Faster!
One of the sisters manages to catch Newt. The Valkyrie tries to crush her inside her massive grip but that's when Newt activates her backup weapon, the Psi Blade. With it, she cleaves through the giant's fingers, cutting her path to freedom.
Faster!
Shocked by the pain, Menja (or could it be Fenja?) can't resist as Newt climbs up her torso, reaching for her neck.
For a moment I dare to think that my help won't be needed and that she'll be able to fell all the enemies on her own. But the killing blow never lands because that's when the Empire's final ace makes his appearance.
Krieg.
He comes from behind the curtain of swirling shades, moving at a tremendous speed thanks to his power and the assistance of the ghosts. His fingers only tap Newt's shoulder, but that's enough to send her against the floor with enough force to crack the pavement.
She manages to push herself out of the way just before being crushed by a giant foot, and counters by grabbing a truck and smashing it against the Valkyrie's side.
What follows is a game of cat and mouse.
With Crusader's Ghosts swarming the place, Newt doesn't have many places to hide, and with Krieg protecting the sisters, she doesn't have the opening she needs to teleport in and behead one of them.
The Blink Band needs ten seconds to recharge after each activation, and those are ten seconds that could prove fatal without support.
Come on, come on! Newt needs me. She trusts that I'll do the one thing that I'm good at.
Will I be able to?
Will I fail and be the reason why she dies?
No. I'll do this. Even if it kills me, I'll find a way to activate The Fight before it's too late.
Something inside me feels cold.
It's not fear.
It's not dread.
It's literal.
The fragment of Newt's core is like an ice cube encrusted into my chest. I feel it pulsing. Itching. Aching.
She gave me a piece of her
s̘͉͈̤͍ͮͨ̆e̗̓̍̐͌͋l͍̝͋̿f̝̔̔̊ heart. What kind of person would I be if I didn't reply in kind?
Her words echo inside my
s̢̠̻͚͉ͣͨ̓͂̒o̺͎̹͉ͅū̗͖̃͗͗ͤͤl͍̣̦̱̰͂ͬ͆́̋̑̀ head.
She told me that I worry too much. That I think about too much meaningless stuff.
But isn't she one of the most important people in the world? At least she is for me. Isn't she worth worrying about?
Yet now it's my fear that is putting her at risk. The mind-killer is paralyzing me. It doesn't let me work. It doesn't let me think. It's difficult, but for me to help her, I need to let go of that fear.
I think I'm starting to get it. For the briefest of moments, it's like if I can s̤͔̲̠ḛ͎e͚̣͍ ḍ̼͖̱i͓̙̭͇̣̣r͖̼̤̼̝̰̳e̳c̦t̠̬̗̳͖̬̘l̜y͚ i͉̯n̤̼̤̯̗̻̝to̯̞̠ ̦̠̺͉͔͎͖h̼̫̝̬̻e̯r̥̗̖͓̩̻̮ b̯͙̙͙ṛại̠̼̙͍̬ͅn͇͙̲̰ and understand what makes her tick.
It's not about not caring, it's about realizing when one's worries are becoming a hindrance and only making things worse.
It's difficult.
Sometimes I really wished I didn't have emotions.
But it's doable.
It's as if a metal rod had been plunged into my brain. It's as if my head was about to explode. But I need to push on. It's almost there, I can feel it.
T͈̬̟͒͌̀͊͋̐̚r͆͐͏̺a̦n͙͖͕͛͛ṡ̯ͨͭͦ̋̀ͯ͢m͓̥̟͓̲ͩ͑͘i̮̳͈̪̜̔͗̄̀̍͆̇s̴̼̤͐̋́s̙̠ͩ̌͋ͅͅī̳̲͕̝̬̺̣oͦͦͅn̝̪̖̭͚̙̎ͨ ̃̽͛̆ͩ̑͏̪͍͓̼̬͖̤cͥ̏̔̓͝ô̮̞͕ͭ̌ͬ̀m̻̖͇̒̾̈̏͟p͘l̢̹͚̘̯̮͙̖ͤ͑ͨ͑̆ẽ̶͔ͫ̈ͥ̄̎t̢͛̈́ͤ̽e̳ͪ̈́̓̆̅ͤ͢
And then everything comes to a stop.
My fingers stand still.
There's a green light illuminating my face.
And I find myself staring into a pair of wide awake sky-blue eyes.
"The Fight?" I ask as if doubting my accomplishment. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm combat-ready."
That's all I needed to hear.
I reach underneath the worktable and pull out a pair of mechanical gauntlets, each one as big as my torso that even with my armor I'm struggling to hold. If I had known how things would turn out, I would have dedicated all my time only to finish her upgrade. She would have been ready for a test run yesterday, but that doesn't matter anymore. And, hey, she'll have the weapons that go with her new body.
The Fight grabs the Mech-Arms and then a portal opens next to us, leading to the ongoing battle.
"You know what to do."
There's no need to say anything else. Her feet shift into rockets that propel her into the fray.
My legs feel like jelly, incapable of supporting the weight of my body.
I collapse on all fours. Exhaustion like I never felt before has taken a firm grip on my body. I need air, and so I take my mask off letting fat drops of sweat fall to the ground.
That was close.
That was so insanely close.
I won't get this lucky again.
If I had failed--
No. I won't think about it. That didn't happen and that's the only thing that matters.
Besides, it's not over yet. Not by a long shot.
I need to know what's happening out there.
Situation: Newt has managed to break the enemy formation and is currently wrestling against Menja and Hookwolf, but the others are quickly approaching her position.
Solution: The Fight descends like a comet, the light of the sun shining on her polished metallic parts, before delivering a devastating blow against Fenja's skull.
I'd have cheered if I had any air left in my lungs to do that with.
I built the Mech-Arms following Tora's design, linking them directly to the Ether Furnace to enhance their striking power by several orders of magnitude. The blast that The Fight just delivered would have been enough to rip an armored truck open like a juicy fruit, and the fact that the Valkyrie is still alive is a testament to the power of our enemies.
Keeping herself afloat with her rocket boots, The Fight turns on the air aiming at the other twin.
The part that wasn't on Tora's original design, are the barrels on the back of each gauntlet. Those ones I created copying the gauss cannons of the Mecha Hydralisk spine launchers. And to give them extra capacity, I added what I learned from Aperture Scaling Cubes. The Fight has hundreds of rounds inside the gauntlets in their compressed state that then expand as they're loaded into the barrels. That way she doesn't have to worry about ammunition while she unleashes dozens of razor-sharp spines, each one the size of a grown man's pinky finger, on Menja's exposed back.
If the blow would have been enough to split an armored truck in two, the needles would have turned that same armored truck into Swiss cheese. Just like her sister, Menja lives, but she doesn't survive the onslaught unscathed. The back of her armor is torn apart and her clothes turn red with the blood flowing from the wounds that the spines opened.
Mental note: start working on broadhead and hollow variants. Or maybe on a type of spine that's brittle, so the tip breaks and stays inside the victim's body for extra bleeding damage.
I forcefully shake my head.
Stop thinking about maybes and get back to the problem at hand!
The girls have the situation under control, at least on the main front. What's the situation across the rest of the border?
Not good. Not good at all.
With most of our assets focused on the parahumans, and with Newt distracted, we left the rest of our territory unattended, open for the Empire foot soldiers to push in.
Where the heck is the Protectorate? This is something they should have mobilized for! But they are nowhere to be seen.
At least to the West, near the trainyard, their advance has slowed to a crawl and they are even being pushed back.
It's the Undersiders! Newt must have called them. It's good to know that even if Grue may not like us, he's not one to back away from an agreed deal. And Aisha is part of our team so there's that too.
Okay, that leaves our southern border for me to take care of.
First, where are our Prismas? There! Already crawling towards Krieg. They will cut through his kinetic defenses and maybe put him down for good.
Next, where is the main concentration of enemy forces? There's a big group marching north by the boardwalk. They are about thirty, with five automatic weapons amongst them, some pistols, and a lot of sticks and Molotov cocktails.
They aren't really killing people, at least not directly. Their firearms are there to keep their pyromaniac friends safe while they set the buildings on fire. Some of which do have people hiding inside.
It seems to me that the Empire is more interested in spreading fear and damaging our infrastructure than actually killing people.
I care little about the difference.
There are only a dozen zerglings in the area to fight against them, but they are supported by three Bridge Builders.
As the saying goes, we must divide and conquer.
The builders punch through the asphalt, only leaving their projectors exposed. Two of them trap the group inside a box of hard light, and the third one splits them right in the middle.
Then I order the zerglings in.
One half of the enemy group can do nothing but watch as my minions burst from the ground, ripping through the clothes and flesh of their companions, knowing that they will be next. Some try to smash their weapons against the hard-light barriers, they get some success with their pistols, forcing cracks to appear on the surface, but it's already too late. The zerglings have finished their meal and they are hungry for more.
Relatively speaking, mind you. The non-lethal protocols are still in effect -to a relative degree- and the Empire goons will survive, even if they are in horrendous amounts of pain right now due to their wounds.
Of course, once they're finished, the civilians they were terrorizing finally crawl out of their hiding spots, and they don't look happy at all with their former attackers.
After ordering some drones to help with the fire, I turn the cameras of that section off. There are other battles to focus on, and this way, if the goons are killed, I won't lie when I say that I didn't do it.
The next group of enemy combatants I track is moving erratically, and faster than they should be able to on foot. When I get a camera to their position I see that they are with Rune, the witch of the Empire using her powers to levitate a bus that serves as their transport.
I could bring them all down with Hydralisks, but I want our ranged units around Fenja and Menja in case the girls need the extra firepower.
The enemy commandos finish terrorizing the section of the street they are in and board their vehicle. The moment they are all in position Rune, who's floating on her own levitating disc, places her hand against the side of the bus to attune to it. Once she's done she takes off, and the bus comes with her.
They believe themselves safe from the underground menace of the Zerg. I'll prove how wrong they are.
There's a three-story building nearby. When the flying bus gets close to it, a group of zerglings jumps out of the windows and into the vehicle. Most of them hit the outside, but with their sharp claws, they manage to keep their grip. Those that make their way inside the cabin are free to start the killing.
Or, very violent restraining. Yeah, let's go with that because they aren't going to--
An explosive detonates inside the bus. Not mine, it must have belonged to one of the Empire goons. It was strong enough to blow all the windows, disrupting Rune's control. It plunges to the ground together with its few surviving passengers.
I care little for the Empire members I just killed, but what I do care about is that, in its erratic freefall, the vehicle hits the side of a house. A house that had people inside it.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Where's a portal? I need a portal!
I pick The Sword and The Song and step through.
Cameras will never be able to truly translate the magnitude of an event. It's not just about the way that your eyes focus on ways differently, but also the way that cameras can't reproduce smells or the plethora of little sensations.
With Rune gone, fleeing with her tail between her legs after seeing the destruction I brought upon her, the common people feel safe to walk the streets once again. They are digging with their hands alone through the rubble of what was once a two stories house, their sweat mixing with the blood and oil splashed on the streets.
I jump in to help, using my sensors to find the trapped people. There are three of them. The first one out is an older woman, her clothes reduced to ribbons leaving her naked. She has a broken leg but that's nothing life-threatening, so I move on.
The next one is a boy about Taylor's age. He has a splinter nailed to his stomach, but my drones fix that easily.
The third one--
The signal blinks out of existence.
No.
No, no, no!
I push those trying to help away, using my enhanced strength to dig faster.
He was a man about Danny's age.
The back of his head is missing.
The woman I just saved screams in agony next to the boy I assume is her son.
The boy stands up and marches towards the remains of the Empire's bus, where some locals had apprehended the few survivors. He grabs one of them and starts punching. No one stops him.
I open a portal and leave the scene. I don't want to look at this anymore.
That was my fault. I did it. I fucked up.
Stupid.
Imbecile.
I ordered the attack that ended in that tragedy.
I messed up, and a family was broken because of it.
We weren't ready for this. Not for such a big incursion. Not for one led by so many capes capable of standing one to one against my strongest creations.
We said we'd protect these people, but we failed them and now innocents paid the price.
How many more are out there who need our help? How many more tragedies will there be before the day's over?
The Empire's assault is collapsing. Between the Undersiders and the Zerg, the goons are being pushed back. The capes are still resisting but Menja has collapsed to a knee due to the blood loss, and the remaining ones can barely stand against the combined efforts of Newt and The Fight.
Where can I help?
Some streets away, an empire goon is keeping a family hostage, threatening them with a rifle. A woman is hurt. Gunshot to the belly. Still lives.
I teleport outside that room. Enemy standing next to the wall. The Sword cuts through brick as easily as it cuts through flesh and bone. Before the two halves have hit the floor, I'm already in. The family looks at me in terror. Don't care. With the woman healed, I order them out.
Four people trapped inside a burning building. One body. Asphyxiation. Flames can't harm me inside the armor. A portal allows the survivors to leave.
Man trapped inside a car crash. Clothes red with the blood of his daughters. One girl still lives, the other does not. I heal those that can be healed, and then cut a way open for them to escape.
Dozens of cases like that. More than I bother to count. In the end, I feel numb. I must be like a machine. Like a d͍̜͈̣̱r͚̫̖̝o̠͙n̥̳̫̯̱̯̜e̙ who knows and cares for nothing more than his job. That helps me push on.
There's a clicking sound and I find myself staring into half a dozen barrels.
How is it that I missed them?
Oh, yes, now I remember. I purposely walked into the enemy hoping to reduce them to bloody chunks.
My hand clenches The Sword, ready to cut through the offending lot, but a swarm of insects descends on them, stealing my kill.
There's the sound of compressed air, and those that don't flee drop unconscious from tranquilizer darts to their necks.
"Tech-Priest!" Taylor descends from the sky on her butterfly wings. "Are you alright?"
No. I'm not.
I stay still, like an immovable rock.
She reaches for me. I hug her. I cry like I haven't done in years.
"What happened?" She asks me in a soft voice.
"Far too much."
I take a step back.
She's fine. We're fine. That's what matters.
I needed that. I needed the release. Now it's like I can think coherently once again.
Taylor puts a hand on my shoulder. "Can you continue?"
"I must." I push it away. "We need to finish this."
There's one more thing for us to do. A very important one.
Taylor opens a portal that leads us as close to the ongoing parahuman battle as she can take us.
Looking at our surroundings, it's like a bomb just detonated in here. Entire buildings have collapsed, scorch marks scar the broken streets, and the remains of zerg and human bodies dot the landscape.
Menja has passed out in a pool of her own blood, and she seems to be the last thing that the Empire is fighting for. They refuse to leave without her.
The Fight is wrestling Hookwolf while Newt is taking care of both Krieg and Fenja.
Only one Prisma remains, the others destroyed during the battle, but they seem to have accomplished their goal as Krieg is limping from a leg, maybe using his power to move.
And Crusader--
Crusader's dead, his torso having been blown apart by concentrated Hydralisk fire.
Good.
"Tech-Priest," Taylor tells me, her voice icy cold. "Do you have The Song?"
Without saying a word, I offer it to her, but she shakes her head.
"Get ready to use it." She takes off, shooting a portal at the floor directly in front of me. "When I give you the signal-" I stand ready to listen to her command, "-pin Hookwolf down."
Wait, what? Is she talking to me? How does she expect me to do that?
"Now!"
I look around in confusion, but the answer arrives when three massive dogs charge at the metallic wolf.
The Undersiders. Taylor must have coordinated with them.
Two of the monsters of flesh and bone grab the hind legs of Hookwolf, while the third one grabs him by the neck.
"The Fight, get out of there!" Taylor orders and shoots the other end of the portal right underneath Hookwolf. "Tech-Priest, now!"
As I find myself staring right into the enemy's belly, I realize what her plan is. The mass of swirling blades may give him an unparalleled defense against both physical and energy attacks, but steel is an excellent conductor of sound.
I narrow the focus of the sonic cannon, so Bitch's dogs aren't hurt.
"Give Lung our regards." I open fire, the metal panels transmitting the energy of the sound blast right into Hookwolf's flesh core. He tries to escape, but the hounds keep him in place.
Hookwolf's cries in agonizing pain, but only for a moment. After he stops moving, he starts shrinking. He's alive but unconscious. At our mercy. Few would condemn us if we executed him now.
The defeat of Hookwolf and the arrival of the Undersiders is the last straw that breaks the back of the Empire's confidence.
"Pull back! Pull back!" Krieg orders his remaining cape. Fenja tries to obey, but The Fight knocks her prone with a directed punch to the back of her neck.
Krieg evades Newt's swing and tries to kick the ground to propel himself away, but he misses. His wounded leg twists at an unnatural angle, forcing him to trip and fall.
Later we'll have to thank Regent for the assistance, but for now, that's the opening that Newt needed. She thrusts with her flaming sword, Krieg pushes it away but the flames lick the tip of his fingers. He flinches and can't defend himself when Newt unleashes the Dark Coil.
There's the sound of a static discharge followed by a muffled groan before Krieg, too, falls unconscious to the ground.
Is-- is it over?
My body refuses to believe it.
I look around. Could there be enemies hidden amongst the rubble that was once a city block?
The hive searches for its enemies, but there are none.
The world stands still. Like a frozen picture, its edges marred by dust and smoke.
Our enemies lay defeated at our feet, broken and bleeding. Prisoners in a battle that should have had none.
The only sounds are those of broken water pipelines, sirens in the distance, and a news helicopter flying over our heads.
...
