Shadow Archon
Protoss Preserver
- Location
- Louisiana
That's just asking for time dilation abuse.
In Nuclear Fire
- Thread starter Poliamida
- Start date
That's just asking for time dilation abuse.
Hello Celebi. Or if you want to go extra OP, go for Mew and get all Pokemon DNA and all Pokemon moves.
Josnacio
Average Nasuverse Enjoyer
- Location
- You're comin' to Brazil!
Since Dragon Ball is going to happen, just stack one Hyper Tonic Lion Tamer inside each other. Just with two you already get a freakton of time.
- Location
- Earth
It has only just occured to me that depending on how you look at it, Peter has a master/servant fetish going on, it'd explain why he wouldn't create GLaDOS, everyone else he made/will make is a doting, loyal subordinate and GLaDOS would be the only one to point out more of his flaws just for the sake of needling him! It all makes sense!
- Location
- The Void
you might be able to get that from a Ditto if they really are failed clones of Mew
PHO will believe that for about .... Three seconds.
- Location
- Chile
But would he not turn Long John into a Yamper?
Make a bunch of other dogs into pokemon?
Create berry trees?
And of course, create a system to electronically store physical objects.
I think he'd get the most out of this.
This and creating at least one Porygon.
Nuclear Fire 52
Poliamida
(Verified Heavy Molecule)
- Location
- Beyond the Stars
Nuclear Fire 52
There's a story that a teacher once told me in my previous life.
It was about frogs, and how they'd jump out if you threw them into boiling water, but if you put them in cold water and slowly raised the temperature they wouldn't notice and would boil alive.
That story terrified me and disgusted me in equal measures. How could any being not fight for their survival when faced with death?
I swore to myself never to be the frog.
Sadly, as I grew up, I realized how easy it was. People like comfort and predictability. Yes, the situation may be killing you, but what does it matter when you have food on your table and a bottle of alcohol to drown your sorrows in? As long as the noose tightening around their necks did it slowly, they'd convince themselves that they can adapt and that maybe this is as far as it will go. No one will fight as long as they have a little hope of finding a way out.
That's why it's so difficult to motivate people into doing anything. That's why, in politics, a candymaker who promises people sweets will always triumph over a doctor who admits that he needs to hurt people to make them better.
Well, if that was already a serious problem in my previous life, now it's rampant in my new one.
It's because of the illusion of peace and comfort why so many people are now scared of us, the violent harbingers of change. Because yes, the Empire was a murderous cult of scumbags, but it had always been there, and most had accepted that it would remain there for years to come. Now its foundations are crumbling, and people are forced to accept that a new paradigm is hanging upon them like the sword of Damocles.
For good or ill, life has stopped being predictable.
Like the frog thrown into boiling water, they fight against it because it is in human nature to fight change, even when that change may be beneficial.
It's just like when Taylor gave up on fighting her bullies and got terrified when I suggested just burning the school down. She had simply accepted that they were a problem without a solution, and just did her best to stop worrying about it. She had turned that pain into her reason for existence, wearing it like a sick badge of honor that said 'I survive'.
Am I being too cynical?
It's not like I actually know what people think or believe in. This whole conclusion is based upon my assumptions and preconceptions, but the observations so far fit the hypothesis.
People are scared. That I perfectly understand and accept.
People are angry. That I also understand, to a degree, but I can't accept.
Why is it so difficult to make people understand that they shouldn't conform to mediocrity? Yes, the road to progress is paved with pain, but that doesn't mean it's not worth traversing!
I take a breath to calm myself.
Where am I going with all this? Well, we have been in the mouth of every major news channel, newspaper, and person vaguely interested in cape culture. And few of the reactions are good.
Oh, the great majority fully agrees that we did the right thing by fighting against the Empire. No one is saying that we should have abandoned the people to die -well, some do, but they aren't worth listening to- but that's not the real problem here.
What people are worried about is our age, our power, and our independence. How can they trust people this young with so much power? What will happen the next time someone comes to cause trouble and we use excessive force? What will happen when we make a bad call and bystanders get hurt because of that?
Like it happened to-
No! I'll stop thinking about that. That's for Newt and me to discuss later today, and I'll put an end to it when we go to the cemetery later today.
In any case, what people want from us is supervision and accountability. That's a reasonable thing to ask for, I believe.
Besides that, there are some small victories to celebrate.
Hookwolf, for starters, was successfully transported away from the Bay, becoming someone else's problem. Even with his diminished resources, we weren't expecting Kaiser to simply abandon him, but we won't complain.
Yes, the PRT is milking that for all the goodwill they can gather, but we aren't going to challenge them on that. The removal of such a powerful villain has lowered tensions all across the city, allowing all parties to take a step back and catch our collective breath.
Also, several voices have risen to defend us. Those from Brockton Bay have spoken highly about our medical assistance and our many projects to help the people of our territory, even if the country at large remains unconvinced. The fact that many now believe me to be a biotinker willing to turn people's grandmas into tentacle monsters doesn't help, nor does our silence. Since the battle two days ago we have remained quiet, and that isn't helping our image. People want to hear from us, know our opinions, and our take on the matter. They want proof that we care and that we know what we're doing.
Well, it's coming. Right now Taylor and Tattletale are with our PR team (a 'team' that consists of only one guy, but it's something) and together they are preparing a public statement.
What that statement will contain, I don't know, and I sincerely don't care about. Human interactions aren't my forte, nor something of interest to me.
Besides, as I weld a final panel and screw in a loose bolt, I realize: my next invention is almost done.
Not my next blade, that one will take a couple more days to brew, but the next piece in our armory.
The Poppibuster.
Looking more like a round Gundam than a traditional Blade, the original Poppibuster was a weird thing. It had a cockpit and an onboard AI to help the pilot, but the pilot, Poppi Mk. II was just a remote control unit slaved to the original Poppi Alpha. It wasn't even autonomous, for Pete's sake! Why Professor Soosoo felt the need to do something so unnecessarily complicated, I don't know, but it was something that I decided to improve upon.
The first obvious solution was to enhance the onboard AI and turn the Poppibuster into a fully autonomous Blade. The problem was that such an upgrade would need a full and very expensive retrofit. I want to save resources for one more blade, so that was a no.
The second obvious solution was to bite the bullet and leave it like it was, but that didn't sit well with me. For starters, I don't know if The Fight has the same multi-tasking capabilities as Poppi Alpha, and I didn't want to invest even more resources improving it.
That was, at the end of the day, the name of the game: reduction of costs.
But then I started thinking. Could I replace the remote control unit and the onboard AI with something else? Something cheaper or that I already had?
Deus Ex gave me the answer. Why not take Poppi Mk. II, throw her away, and replace her with a human pilot?
With that in mind, I took the Poppibuster and upgraded it with the same technology that the Zerg use to link with human biology. The result, the TechnoBuster, is no longer a Blade but a fully functional mecha. And not one of those dated mechas that need buttons and levers to function, oh no. Mine links directly to the pilot's brain, allowing a more intimate connection with almost no delay between orders and their execution. This is an IFV that will feel like power armor.
And now it's ready for a test-run.
I take a step back to take in the full magnificence of my work.
At three meters in height, I need a step ladder to reach the cockpit located inside its chest. The hatch opens with a hiss of hydraulic pistons, revealing not a chair or anything that would resemble a traditional control unit, but a wall of what seems to be solid wiring. Any normal person would assume that there's no space for a human to get inside the robot, and they would be wrong. This isn't just traditional wiring, but a mass of mecha-Zerg flesh.
I place my hand against that wall of synthetic muscle and push. My entire arm sinks up to the elbow, making me feel as if I had just dipped it into a pool of goo. Like if it was the LCL of an Evangelion, this mecha-flesh will be the mediator between my nervous system and the Buster's circuitry while also absorbing the shocks of battle. It's the same stuff that allows the connection between my body and the zerg armor.
I push forwards, almost up to my shoulder, and I feel the tingle of wires plugging into my arm.
It's warm.
Also, slightly scary.
Where are my fingers? One-- two-- five fingers, yes. So far so good.
I take one step in and my foot sinks into the electronic mesh. Then another one. Soon enough the only part of my body that remains outside is my head.
What a grotesque spectacle.
Here I am being sucked into blackish goo as if I was an innocent animal trapped in a tar pit, patiently waiting for its own demise.
But I'm not scared.
As if I was readying myself for the final dip into a pool of freezing water, I close my eyes and take that final step. I sink completely into the entrails of the TechnoBuster.
B̩̹̹l̤͖a̻̫̙̦ckn̤͚͇̺̰̖e̻̗͎̯͉ͅͅs̠̟̣s̭̩ ͍̣̹̠̻̺r̟͓̯͖͉e̳c̠̯e̖̫̻̯̣̭i̝̟̲̘v͕̯͇̻̦̝e̜͖̝̮ͅs͈̺̮̥͚̣ ̱̗̹̜̮m̬̬̘͕̫e̞͓̥̘.̦̞
There's no sight.
There's no sound.
And there's no touch either, or any other form of sensation.
I'm not breathing, but it's not like I need to. My biology is now being fully regulated by the Buster's systems, with oxygen being directly injected into my lungs without a need for a mouth or a nose.
I try to stretch my arms, test if I can feel the edges of the cockpit, or find the rest of my body, but there's nothing. I don't even know if I'm moving my arms at all. I'm like a baby struggling to walk for the first time, fighting to understand his limbs while surrounded by a warm, peaceful void.
It's strangely c͍o̝̞̟͉̩̦m̜̮͔͈f͙̗̜o̫̬̗̤͉r̹͔̘̻̣̰t̬̩͎͚̬̟̘i̫͈ng͇͇̬͕.
And then there is light. It blinds me, but only for a moment. Once my eyes have finished adjusting, the sight that receives me is that of my workshop. Except that my eyes are not the ones scanning over the landscape, but the optic sensors of the TechnoBuster.
It's working!
Visual, infrared, night-vision, and half a dozen other variants! I have the whole package!
My audio sensors would also allow me to navigate through echolocation too if the need arises.
I try to take a step but my legs don't respond. They are disabled for this test, and I'll need to activate them later.
I raise a hand to my face. It doesn't feel right. The proportions are wrong, and the Buster's arm has four points of articulation instead of a human's traditional three. I'm a quick learner, though.
The hand that I look down at is gigantic, the size of the Buster's chest instead of its comparatively diminutive head. Five fingers, just like a human hand. I press the tip of the thumb against each finger, testing the tactile functions.
Again, I understand the sensations but they are alien to me. The Buster doesn't have a 'skin', yet I know with perfect precision how much strength I'm exercising with each limb. I'm fairly sure that I could pick an egg up with no fear of breaking it.
There's also something e̪͍l̠̖͙͈̦̥͔s̼͓͕e̼̞̫̘̼̦. Like a new se̪̠̟n̰̖ͅs̜̳e̥ that I didn't know I had.
I'm perfectly aware of the beating҉ ̴h̕eart o͘f K̶hay̴d̀árin deep within the Buster, and the crystalline tendrils that reach across the whole extension of this mechanical body like veins carrying pure energy instead of blood.
Newt's Crystal. The one that rests inside the chest of my biological body. I've never been so aware of its presence before.
And the tendrils of Khaydarin--
No. They aren't real. Or better said, they aren't physical. What I see pulsing inside those crystalline veins is information. What I see is the network that connects Newt's core to my brain and to the systems of this robot I'm currently inhabiting.
Fascinating.
Each thought, each metaphor, each figment of imagination or fragment of memory is reflected inside it, like individual lightbulbs in a city. Every new idea gets inscribed in Khaydarin like an ancient scribe writing down a story in clay.
And this is just me! What I see is nothing more than the city that lives within a single human mind.
I wonder, is this what the M̼͉e̱̭̳̩ch̥a͎͎͕̼̤̪͎ ̩̪̜̣͕̗Z̯e͚̮͍̤̯̯r̞̹̫̼̲̣g̻̙̥͙͙ ̖̮̣̟̟̤N͉͈̹͇̟̺e̯͍̟t̤̩͕̥͍̗̹w̻̠̦͙o̱r͈̩̝̗̝͙͙k͕̗̠̻ looks like?
The moment that thought flares, it explodes. Like the floodgates of a dam being opened, the network that is my being gets swallowed by something else. Something bigger. Massive.
I try to scream, but the voice modulators aren't ready yet.
It's like being lost in the middle of a hurricane. Like a furious ocean crashing wave after wave against my head. I try to swim away but it keeps dragging me deeper until up and down lose all meaning, and my consciousness gets stretched in every direction to the breaking point.
Everything comes to a sudden stop.
For a fraction of a second, there's nothing, and then my perception bursts into light as if a god had just given birth to an entirely new solar system. One composed of dozens of stars, and hundreds of planets.
I find myself drifting through the multi-colored ripples of solar winds trying to comprehend the new location I find myself in.
What is this? Where am I?
Inside this place, I don't have hands, but I do have something resembling a body. I'm yet another star within this constellation.
A planet flies close to me, and I extend my reach towards it, capturing it inside my gravity well.
Like if I had been born with that knowledge, I have a perfect understanding of everything that celestial body ever was.
[Drone 125. Created in Hatchery Beta. Carrying raw material from sector 3 to sector 24]
I set that small planet free so it can continue with its assigned task, letting the flow of information go with it.
This constellation of colors and information is one that I created. A perfect matrix of order and knowledge.
I wonder, who else is in here?
My awareness expands to more planets. Each one is a drone, a zergling, or a hydralisk patrolling our territory. I know where each one is and what important task they have to fulfill. But I don't control them. I don't even know if I could if I tried to. We share information perfectly, but we are not one. I let them go so I can continue my exploration of this place.
My attention then gets dragged to a cluster of four stars. They each blink erratically, switching through all the colors of the rainbow. As I get close to them and allow myself to get dragged into their gravity well, I get filled with a sense of wonder. It's as if every new experience was new, fresh, exciting, and worthy of investigation.
The closer I get, the better I understand them.
[T3: Okay, roll for initiative]
[T1 Roll 1d20]
[T1: 20! Booya!]
What am I looking at?
My thought sends a pulse through the cluster that catches the attention of the four little stars. One by one they all turn to me.
I feel no threat coming from them, just an impression of amusement and curiosity.
[T3: Greetings, Master. Fancy meeting you here]
[T4: Oh! Oh! Is this a random encounter?]
[T2: Maybe he's here to give us a new quest]
[T3: But I want to be the Facility Overseer
]I raise a metaphorical eyebrow, recognizing the unmistakable voice of the turrets.
Excuse me, what are you doing?
[T4: Playing Test Chambers and Monsters. I'm a lvl 5 Prima Donna turret!]
[T1: Right now we're on the noble quest to find the Sacred Cube of Companionship. Want to play?]
[T2: We are missing an off-tank]
[T1: Shush, you! Let him play the class that he wants]
The more they talk, the more I listen, the more my perception of my surroundings gets distorted. I'm no longer swimming in that wild galaxy of information, but seated inside a cozy room. There's a round table in the middle of that room covered in digital maps and 3D figurines. Seated at that table are the turrets. Three of them are armed. One carries what seems to be a mace, another one a bow, and the last one holds a staff. The fourth turret carries a thick book, with the word 'RULZ' written in crayon on its cover.
They are all waiting for my answer.
I'm sorry, I'm a bit busy now.
[T3: Pooey. Oh, well, maybe another time. Now, where were we?]
I leave that room, trying to make as little noise as I can to not disturb them. I cross the door and return to the galaxy that is the hive.
Far in the distance, I see a hole in reality. In this reality. A singular point of discontinuity in this universe of information and no matter. That's the connection that leads to my biological body.
I could go back but I'm not satisfied yet. This place calls me, and I want to explore it for a little bit longer.
Two big stars dwarf everything else that exists in here. I don't need to guess who they are. The fulgor that they irradiate tells me everything.
Unlike the turrets, who had their private chat room, Newt and The Fight don't need a digital space to open a dialogue. A real one serves them well enough.
Through their eyes, I see a section of the pier. Once a storage area for containers, those two have turned it into their arena.
Ever since The Fight received her new body she has been more active than ever, and every waking moment that she doesn't spend patrolling she spends demanding sparring matches from Newt. And the Blade is more than eager to oblige.
From Newt comes to me the glow of embers, the liquid shapes of flames, and the smell of smoke. She's joyful and full of life, but also eager to let her emotions take the wheel. What she does, she does because she enjoys it, because she wants to experience every sensation there's to discover, and because she wants to live without regrets. The moment is her greatest treasure, and monotony her greatest fear.
For Newt, a battle is a form of communication. Through it she expresses her passions, dreams, and fears. It's when two souls are pushed to the extremes that the masks crumble and lies flee, leaving only the truth behind. Amongst friends, victory or defeat are equally valid, and it's the revelation of the self that matters. Who cares about the result when both parties can equally enjoy and be enriched by the experience?
The Fight does.
Where Newt is fluid, The Fight is solid. Where Newt is a flame, The Fight is a cold rock.
For The Fight, battle is an artform. It's a precise and methodical execution of a carefully crafted plan. She's a finely honed blade that I fear would cut me if I got too close.
She doesn't see the duel as an interaction between two people, but as a conversation with the inner self. If something is worth doing, then it's worth perfecting. Like the sculptor chiseling away the scrap to reveal the statue, it's in the forge of battle that she tempers her being into a better version. For her, defeat is nothing more than a stepping stone towards that ultimate objective: the conquest of the indomitable mountain that is perfection.
She wants to be the best, and yet her greatest fear is achieving that dream. Because, what would come after that but nothingness?
She willingly walks to her doom, yet is perfectly fine with that because until that day comes the avenues for growth are nearly limitless. That's why, at least for now, she's happy in the knowledge that so many titans remain in this world worth vanquishing.
And as they see and think, so do I.
At this very moment, for this fraction of a second, I feel as if I understand everything there is to know about them. I am closer to them than I have ever been with any other being, and I am at peace.
There are no lies in this place. No tricks and no shadows. Just the light of naked souls that reveal themselves as we truly are. Beautiful and perfect in our differences. I wonder what they would see in me if they could.
I don't want to leave this place. I don't want to return to that world of greys and shadows. Of betrayals and pain.
I just want to spend eternity here, enjoying their duel.
What Newt lacks in finesse she makes up for with effectiveness and strength. She's practical to a fault. As long as she achieves the result she seeks, she doesn't care about how she gets there. A soldier to the end.
Her fist cracks the ground where The Fight was standing a moment ago.
The Fight looks at the wasteful display of power and scoffs. She respects Newt for her strength of body and will, but is disappointed by Newt's inferior grace. Still, the wide swings do their work keeping the opponent at bay, while the extreme aggression keeps her constantly on the back foot.
Newt's strategy revolves around stealing the initiative, forcing the enemy to move, and then going for the kill when she smells weakness. She's always there, always present, always pressuring.
A lesser warrior would find himself unable to counterattack, but The Fight is better than that. She waits, she sees, and she plans. The only hit that truly matters is the last one, and that's the one that she will deliver.
Newt delivers another mighty smash that gets easily dodged, but that was something she was counting on. She grabs a piece of concrete and hurls it at her opponent.
But the Fight p͇̰̲̯ṟ̞̹ͅe̱d̳͔̳i̬̘̙̯͈c̲̙͖͔t̼̥͚͙͉s͈ it, e͉͇͕̭͙̳v͇̝̘e͈̜ͅn̲̗̙̦ ͚̩͚̩w̫̲̙͈̘̬̝h͚e̟̮̞͈͖̭ͅn̩͙͇ ͎s͍̭h̪e͙ ̰͇d̙͍̩̳̳͕o̯̫̥̣̘̪e͕̥̠̠̠͓s̟̥n̮͈̝͇̲'̝̭̲t̪ ̝w̩̟͚a̞̭̯̪̙n̻̩͇t̯͓̝ ̰̮̯t̘o͎̞̗͙̯͇ͅ, and kicks against the projectile in frustration, pushing herself out of the way.
She lands unscathed on the ground, her arms raised in a cross signaling a stop in the duel.
"My friend, what's wrong?" Newt asks in concern.
The Fight looks left and right, searching for the source of her annoyance. She finds it as her eyes land firmly on me.
"Master, stop helping me."
Her voice resonates inside my mind, shaking the surroundings and making me feel dizzy.
"Wait, master is here? Where?"
The Fight points but doesn't point at me. I'm not in any physical location. I'm within them yet outside them. Newt can't see me because she doesn't think in a way that allows her to recognize me. There's an impression, like a soft breeze against her mind. Following The Fight's directions, she finds me.
"Oh, there you are!"
I wave at them. Or at least think about doing that, as I don't have arms to do it with. In this realm of pure thought, the intention is the only thing that matters.
Hello, girls. What are you doing?
"Oh, you know, just enjoying ourselves," Newt says, flexing her arms. "As long as there are no enemies to vanquish, at least. If any hostile appears, we're ready to intervene!"
That's good to know. And I'm sorry, it wasn't my intention to interrupt you. Or do-- I don't know, whatever I did back there.
Something happened between The Fight and me back there. A connection was accidentally formed and I gave her more information than she wanted.
"Master warned me about your attack." She explains.
Newt places her hands at her waist, looking down at me as if I was a child who was discovered stealing cookies from the jar. "Oh. Master, that's not right."
Sorry, I didn't know I was doing that.
"Eh, it's okay. Want to stay?"
Yes, I do. I want to remain here with them. But this was a wake-up call, I need to better understand how this works if I want to stop accidents like the one that just happened. Besides, I do want to finish the TechnoBuster. There are armor plates to install and weapons to calibrate.
No, no. I don't want to interrupt you anymore and I do have things to do.
"You do you, Master. And don't forget about our appointment later today!"
The impression of reassurance coming from her calms my heart, and as my consciousness drifts away, I catch a glimpse of them restarting their duel before I find myself back inside my workshop and my organic body.
I feel cold. Empty. Their minds next to mine were like a bulwark against the world, a certainty that no matter what happened I'd always have someone at my side.
It feels very lonely without them.
Maybe tinkering some more will help me put my head away from all that for a while.
With a mental command, the hatch opens. I reach for the edges of the cockpit and pull myself out.
Immediately I flinch, and my armor locks me in place to stop me from stumbling. The reason for that is that Tattletale is there, just next to the TechnoBuster, staring at me with glassy eyes.
"Tattletale?" I call for her but it takes her a moment to answer.
She shakes up and runs a hand down her face as if trying to massage the confusion away. "What the heck were you doing in there?"
"I was linking to the hivemind," I reply, throwing a thumb over my shoulder. "I already miss it."
Her eyebrows knit into a frow, and she brings a pair of fingers up to massage her eyes. "Of course you do. Try not to do that often because it makes my power go haywire."
"I won't promise that." I shake my head. "What are you doing here, by the way?"
She signals at a folder resting on a nearby table. "Ladybug asked me to fetch her the list of those interested in investing in our business. A pathetically short list, but it's a start."
Ah, yeah, the delivery system. Our shell company did go public about it but the entire controversy has been a pain in the ass to manage.
Wait a minute, I saw them together just a moment ago. Why is Tattletale here?
"Why didn't you just give it to her? You were at a meeting with our PR team, weren't you?"
Her eyes narrow, and she looks me up and down as if I was an offensive piece of art. "Tech-Priest, what time do you think it is?"
Well, I do remember having lunch before linking with the TechnoBuster, so...
"Around noon?"
"It's four in the afternoon! We finished that meeting hours ago!"
I--
Hours?
How much time did I spend wandering inside the hive network? Damn, time does fly when you're having fun.
"Oh. I may have lost track of time just a bit."
A palm slams against Tattletale's face.
As it turned out, losing myself to the hivemind not only meant wasting precious hours that I could have spent tinkering, but it also meant not having time to mentally prepare for my meeting with Newt.
But it may be better this way. That bandaid needs to get peeled away, and the faster I do it the less time I have to panic. I almost don't notice when the time comes, so busy I am catching up on wasted time trying to finish the Buster's weapons.
The alarm almost makes me jump out of my skin! And a second later a portal opens announcing that Newt is also ready on her end.
No time like the present.
Not giving myself a chance to reconsider, I drop what I'm doing and walk through.
I'm received by a strong wind that would have made me flinch if it wasn't for my armor. It takes me a moment to realize that the reason for that is that I'm standing on a twenty-story building that dwarfs everything around it.
This is not where we were supposed to meet.
Standing at the edge of the rooftop, glancing down at the city below and with the wind waving her long coat, Newt cuts an impressive image. "Quite a view, isn't it?"
I walk closer to her, keeping a healthy distance from the edge. "Why are we here? I thought that you'd take me to the cemetery."
"And I will, but first I thought that you could use a break."
I cock my head to the side. A break at a time like this, after I already lost time to the hivemind? Heavens know I'd like one but there's far too much to do.
"I'd just prefer to get it done with." Go in, pay my respects to those that died, and then walk away hopefully with all my problems fixed. No more and no less, that's what we agreed upon.
"And that attitude, master," she says, aiming an index at me, "is exactly why you need it. Now come on, there's a place I want to take you to."
With a swipe of one of her battle arms, she picks me off the ground, carrying me as if I was a can of coke.
"Hey, what are you-" My words turn into a scream of panic when Newt jumps over the edge, with me still in her grip.
My armor protects me. Long Fall Boots alone can turn a drop from this height into something just marginally more dangerous than falling off my bed. And I sleep on a mattress on the floor! But that's no reassurance for my crawling skin.
I still hate the sensation of staring at the ground that's progressively getting closer and closer. I can already hear the people yelling, pointing at us. Some scramble back, making sure not to be anywhere close to the landing zone.
Just heartbeats before the impact, Newt twists in the air and hurls me up, turning what would have been a violent deceleration into a soft landing into her arms.
As nice as it is, it doesn't distract me from the fact that I peed myself a little.
"There, there," Newt tells me, setting my trembling self back on solid ground. "You have nothing to fear as long as I'm around!"
Some onlookers try to return to their normal routine as they realize that this is not a suicide attempt but just two capes playing around. Some take pictures of us. Some others point while whispering to each other. No few of them turn back and leave, trying to put as much distance from us as possible.
There's surprise, admiration, and fear in their looks. All in equal measures. How else can you react when you're standing next to a known killer?
You can ignore them like I'm doing by forcing myself to focus solely on Newt.
I take several quick breaths to bring my beating heart back under control. "Where is that place that you wanted me to see?"
"Just around the corner!" She pats my back, making me stumble and skip a step. "Now let's go."
She starts walking, leaving me with only two options: I either speed up to catch up to her, or I'm left behind to suffer under the stares of curious strangers.
"Hey, wait for me! And why didn't we just teleport to our destination?"
"Because I wanted you to enjoy the fresh air! Now chop-chop, less talking and more walking."
Too late I realize that, for her, 'around the corner' is more of a vague expression of intent than a hard spatial definition. With that, I mean that she drags me across several streets with no clear destination in sight.
On the way, I see people from all paths of life. They part away, trying to give us a wide berth, but my sensors can still catch what they are doing even when they try to hide.
A businessman in a suit, talking on his phone with his family, reassuring them that he'll soon be back home.
A vagabond scavenging for food in the trash cans behind a restaurant, and who then gives half of what he finds to the dog that follows him around.
A child who points at us in excitement, only to be dragged away by who seems to be her worried mother.
Some dart to the closest policemen the moment they see us, and even more who seem to be just cape junkies trying to get close enough to get a good picture, or even an autograph.
There are some patrols and police tape keeping people away from some areas, but what catches my attention the most, are those who are rebuilding.
The place we're walking through was away from the main action, but it still saw some level of violence when the Undersiders raced through chasing after some fleeing gang members.
The marks of Bitch's dogs still scarring the pavement will take some time to fix, but broken windows are being replaced, and bullet holes are being filled.
This is something that I try to avoid involving myself with whenever possible. The aftermath. It's Taylor who walks down the streets, talks to the people living in them, and does her best to empathize with them.
Not me. I'm not good at it. I wouldn't know what to tell them to make them feel better, or how to respond when they blame us for the property they lost.
The sad reality is that, whether we want it or not, violence will follow us wherever we go. By choice. We may not always be the ones to start it, but we will be the ones to finish it. And the only thing we can do is to drag the least amount of people into our conflicts.
"We're here," Newt announces, opening her arms to reveal--
"A coffee shop?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.
"Yup! But don't let the front deceive you, they cook some excellent food here. Now come on, I already made reservations." There was no need for that, as the place is empty, but who am I to complain about protocol?
The girl behind the bar recoils in surprise when she sees us enter, but doesn't stop us from seating at a table, and soon enough she's with us to take our orders.
"Waiter, a double cheese hamburger for me with extra fries!" Newt announces. "And for my friend here-- I don't know, what do you want?"
It's still too early for something that greasy, but I could do with something hot. "A cup of tea. With a dash of milk."
The girl nods as she finishes writing down our orders. "O-of course. Coming right up." She sounds nervous. I wonder if she's afraid that some lunatic will attack this place trying to get to us, forcing us to turn it into a crater?
Shit. That is a real possibility. We've made enemies, dangerous ones that would be more than willing to take hostages in the name of getting any advantage over us.
Have we put all these people in danger by just being here?
But this is why we fight, isn't it? So normal people can walk down the streets with no fear of being killed by a crazy cape trying to get high on violence.
Like it happened with the Empire.
"I found this place the other day while on patrol." Newt's voice pulls me out of my thoughts. "I saw it and I told myself: hey, this would be great to bring Tech-Priest for a snack."
I nod, happy that she thought of me. "Thank you. I like hanging out with friends."
"I wouldn't have guessed with how you spend all your time buried in projects." Because that's safer. "But I didn't know that your favorite color was blue either. I was so sure I'd be red, considering our color scheme."
Now isn't that funny? I indeed like the color blue. It's relaxing, unlike the more violent red. But I named myself Tech-Priest, Taylor picked the name Ladybug, and so it was logical to--
Wait a minute.
How does she know?
Oh.
I sealed my helmet so she can only hear me through our radio.
"Earlier today, when I linked to the hive. You saw that, didn't you?"
She nods. "I did. And a whole bunch of other stuff. That's how I knew that you need to do something for fun and not just necessity."
It's a damn good thing that my helmet hides my face or the world would see my cheeks turning a shade of crimson as deep as my robes. I dearly hope that she didn't see my fetishes, or what I'd like to do with-- no! Better not to think about it. I'm no longer connected to the hive but I still don't want to risk it.
"I can always do both," I say, coughing into my fist to hide my embarrassment. "Like when I built you." Well, it's a good thing that I didn't ask for anything to eat because right now I'm enjoying a serving of my own foot!
Thankfully, Newt doesn't seem to mind as she throws her head back and laughs. "Damn right you are! But you still need vacations."
Our conversation gets briefly interrupted by the arrival of our orders, tea for me, and a hamburger for Newt that does look far less greasy and more appetizing than the ones from Fugly Bob's. An image that gets immediately ruined when Newt drops half a bottle of ketchup on it, before taking a generous bite.
While she chews, I look down at my cup while I wait for it to cool down.
Vacations? I did enjoy them with my old family. An excuse to break the routine, do different things, see different sights, and buy tons of stuff that's completely useless but would look good in my room.
"I always wanted to visit the Colosseum," I say almost without thinking.
Newt seems to have something to say to that but is currently choking on a fistful of french fries. A fistful the size of her battle arms. Nothing that emptying a jumbo-size soda doesn't fix.
"Oh, to see the place where the Caesar sat in the city that gave birth to the greatest army in history! Now that's a place that I'd like visiting too!" And with that declaration, she finishes what's left of her meal. "That or the New Jersey museum."
That sounds amazingly vague. How many museums could there be in a city of that size?
"Which one?"
"The battleship one, duh! I love battleships. Everything that makes a roaring sound and is super destructive."
My lips curl into a smile. I do too.
"Something to do after we've saved the world, then."
I roll my cup between my hands. It has cooled down enough for my taste, so I empty it in one gulp.
"Even more motivation to win, then." She stretches back, raising a hand. "Check, please!"
The waiter almost rushes to get it to us, and Newt pays it with a stack of bills that she pulls out from her pocket.
"Where did you get that from?" I ask in confusion. We don't pay her, something that sounds awful when put like that.
"Spoils of war." That, and the mischievous smile she gives me, is all I needed to know.
As we stand up, I catch by the corner of my eye a small figure staring at us from behind a tree. It's a girl, roughly around my age, and with raven black hair. The moment our eyes meet, she gasps and runs away.
"She spent our whole break spying on us," Newt explains, tracing the escape route of the interloper with her eyes. "Or you, to be specific. She was doing such a poor job at it that I allowed it. Besides, Miss Ladybug doesn't want us to cause any more scenes as long as it's not needed."
A spy? Here? Why didn't Newt warn me?
"Who is she? An enemy?"
"Oh, I hope! It would be nice to have enemies that are that obvious. No, I think that she's just a fan. I could order our troops to enforce a restraining order if you wish."
So, not a cape trying to kill me but a stalker. I honestly don't know what would be worse.
Fuck, what is my life turning into? It's exactly because of things like this that I never wanted to be famous!
"Forget it. We shouldn't worry as long as she doesn't cause trouble, and it's not like I spend that much time in public, to begin with."
"Roger that."
Leaving that moment of unpleasantness in the past, we continue on our way to our original destination: the cemetery.
On the way, I stop at a flower shop and buy a single rose. Newt says nothing, but I feel that she approves of my initiative.
Sadly, the moment that we're standing before the gate, my determination begins to crumble.
Why?
It's not like I fear the dead coming back to life. Or the spirit of the man that I'm here to visit descending from the heavens to haunt me.
And yet I can't stop thinking about what he'd say if he could speak now. Would he accept it? Would he forgive me? Would he hate me?
How many graves were added since all this started?
How many more will be here once it all comes to an end?
All pointless questions that may never receive an answer, but that my brain insists on pondering.
Once again I'm grateful that Newt is there as she picks me up and carries me inside.
"No cold feet now, master. We're almost done."
It's very serene here. The majority of burials were conducted yesterday, so there are few people now to interrupt our meeting. And the few who are here barely pay attention to us, maybe assuming that we, too, lost a loved one.
It's here, in loss and death, that humans find true mutual ground.
And talking about ground--
This is it.
A single gravestone, surrounded by dozens that look exactly the same. It hasn't even been engraved yet, and the name of the person is just painted on it. I would have never been able to find it if Newt hadn't been here to direct me to the right one.
Setting me back on the ground, she takes a step back.
I'm on my own now.
Well, this is it, isn't it? The moment of truth. No point turning back now, no matter how much I wished I could.
I can do it. I will do it because there's no other option.
Oh, this would be so much easier if I was still connected to the hivemind!
Will have to do without it.
Each step I take feels heavier, and each breath more laborious. I reach out with the hand holding the flower, feeling as if lead ingots were hanging from my wrist. With a final exercise of will, my hand opens and the rose gently flutters down to rest at the very center of the grave.
And then--
Well--
Absolutely nothing happens. The world doesn't stop, it doesn't end. It just continues on exactly the way it was. I should be grateful that it didn't, but I was still hoping for something else.
"Is that it?" I ask, unable to keep the frustration away from my voice.
Drawing closer, Newt comes to stand next to me. "What seems to be the problem, master?"
"I don't know. I thought I'd reach some sort of revelation, but there's nothing."
She kneels so we can be at eye level. "Master, the burden of our memories is one we can never let go of. But through small gestures like these, and with the help of friends like me, we grow stronger to carry them better. Healing will take its time, but you took the first step and you'll soon see how from here on you're able to walk better. And when you can't, I'll be there to carry you." She closes her hand around mine and I squeeze hard, not wanting to let go.
"Thank you," I told her. "And you know what? I think I do feel better after all."
It feels anticlimactic, but it seems that this is it. There's nothing more to do but to go back to my workshop and finish my projects.
And maybe this was the revelation that I was supposed to reach. That sometimes, the best yet hardest thing that we can do is to simply wake up the following day and continue on with our lives.
As we make our way back, I conclude that if I don't see another graveyard in the next three hundred years, it will be too soon.
The sound of rushing feet wakes me up early the next day, on the morning of Sunday the 8th. I panic for a moment, not knowing what's going on and fearing a new catastrophe, but then Danny rushes me to the bathroom to take a shower.
When I exit, I find on a chair next to the bathroom's door a shirt my size with a necktie to match, a pair of elegant pants, and black shoes. I have the vague impression of having arrived at the Bay with all this, one of the last earthly possessions of the body I currently inhabit, but I never bothered to use it.
After dressing up I walk down to the living room where I find Taylor wearing a floral dress that I never saw before, adorned by a sad smile.
Before I can ask her what's going on Danny bursts into the room from the kitchen, dressed in a suit similar to mine. He's struggling to comb his hair with one hand while with the other he searches for his keys.
"Sorry kids that I woke you up like that. This was a spur of the moment decision, and I wasn't sure if we should go with the state that the city is in, but-"
"Dad!" Taylor interrupts him. "It's okay. We're ready, so let's go."
With this, it's two times in the same week that I get blindsided by foreign customs.
Today is the second Sunday of May.
Today is Mother's Day.
We board Danny's car, and the drive to the graveyard starts. Not the same one that I visited yesterday, though. This one is further inland, past downtown, and close to the very edge of the city.
The minutes tick away in absolute silence. Taylor's sole interest seems to be what's outside the windows, and Danny's sporadic attempts at starting a conversation die before his words can even escape his mouth.
And me?
What am I even doing here? This isn't my place. I don't even know who my mother in this world was! Do they assume that this is something that I want to do? Taylor knows that I don't mourn my local family, but Danny doesn't.
Well, this is most definitely not the moment to correct his preconceptions, so I'll just play along.
At least this time it's not personal. Not for me, at least.
Some 30 minutes later, we reach our destination. It takes us some time to find a parking spot, but the moment we do I'm the first one to descend. I dart straight for the entrance, but the moment I step in I look over my shoulder to realize that no one's following me. Due to the date, there's a lot of people here, but not nearly enough for us to have gotten lost.
Retracing my steps, my jaw drops when I realize that Taylor and Danny are still at the parking slot, looking like a pair of inland kids who see the sea for the first time.
"Are you two alright?" I ask them, and that breaks the spell.
"Yes, yes," Danny says, scratching the side of her head. "Sorry, Peter. It's just that--"
"When was the last time we came here?" Taylor interrupts him, and realization dawns on me. When was the last time that these two found the courage to talk about Annette? Between Taylor's bullying and Danny's battle with depression, they must have been acting like she never even existed.
"Far too long," Danny confirms my suppositions. "We should have brought flowers."
"Maybe next time."
He nods. "Yes. We will bring them next time."
And despite having reached that decision, they still fail to move out of their places.
What was that thing that Newt said? 'When you lack strength, a friend will carry you.'
Or something like that. I may be paraphrasing here.
I could bring the TechnoBuster here but that would reveal our secret identities, so I just grab them by the wrists and pull.
They don't complain, if only because they are too surprised to do so, and soon enough the three of us are standing before a gravestone underneath the shade of a tree.
Annette Rose Hebert
1969-2008
She taught something precious to each of us.
1969-2008
She taught something precious to each of us.
I never knew her, she never interacted with me, I don't even know what her voice sounded like.
I was sure that this wasn't going to mean anything to me.
And yet, as I stand next to Annette's family, and I see such a deep sadness in their eyes, I find that I can barely hold back my tears. Why am I being affected by a dead woman who never meant anything to me?
"Where would I even start?" Taylor's voice trembles and almost cracks. "I have so many things to tell her."
So many things happened. Many of them went wrong, many others went right. How would the threads of fate have unraveled if Annette hadn't been driving that day?
"So do I, Taylor. So do I." Danny holds her tightly, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder.
"I wonder if she'd have been proud of us."
"Wherever she is, I'm sure that she's looking at us with a smile on her face."
I feel like an interloper here. An outsider who has no place in what should be an intimate family affair. I did the right thing by giving them that last push to get in here, but now I should retreat.
I take a step back.
Before I can take a second one Danny grabs me by the shoulder and drags me between Taylor and him.
I don't resist.
You know what? Maybe this family isn't half bad.
...
A/N: Let's all give a thanks to TheManW/oAPlan for writing an omake that I'm canonizing as the Heavy Gear's public response. You can check it out under the Sidestory tab. I'd like to go over it and tweak it (with TheManW/oAPlan's permission, of course) to put it more in line with how I'd envision it, but right now I'm dead tired so I'll do it in another moment.
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Lightwavers
Purple Noodle
- Pronouns
- they/them
Heh. That introductory monologue is trying to be so serious, but this line kind of ruins it:
Why? Because it's a myth. The frog in that famous example was lobotomized.
Why? Because it's a myth. The frog in that famous example was lobotomized.
This doesn't have much bearing on the story but this is a very popular myth. I'm an annoying person, so I have to point out that this entire experiment is impossible for several reasons, which can be found here Frog fable brought to boil › Dr Karl's Great Moments In Science (ABC Science). Or any other of several publications that have looked into.
- Location
- US
What happened to the resurrection tech? I'm a little surprised to see Peter working on that mech, I felt like the last chapter had him rather manic to make some anti death countermeasures.
This line struck me as odd, considering she saw him in the network when he was having a moment of awe and joy and fun exploration.
Lord_Anthrax
Daemon Prince of Nurgle
To be fair
Given the average intelligence of the population of earth bet. Is it really a bad comparison
Fluffy_serpent
a snake pretending to be human
I think you are overanalyzing something that is meant to be an analog to that humans almost always adapt and accept changes well if they are slow since these changes in the long time but subtle in the short time can mentalize it as "it could be worse", "There are people who are worse off", "I am better than those people for putting up with something without doing anything and just accepting it", and so on. But what sudden changes people do not usually receive well, in general nothing that changes from one day to the next their vision of the world people like.
ps: apart is just a way to show the mentality of peter, if you can think of something better that works just as well or better and that is scientifically exact because you can always tell the author and if your arguments and dialogues he likes he will change it
Shadow Archon
Protoss Preserver
- Location
- Louisiana
Guys, he does mention it in chapter.
She's not ready yet, and even so, she can only revive the recent dead I believe, not the "dead for a few days" or "dead for a few years."
He'll need another tech tree for that.
The turrets are amazing and adorable and I really want to see them interacting with Dragon and calling her Big Sis.My attention then gets dragged to a cluster of four stars. They each blink erratically, switching through all the colors of the rainbow. As I get close to them and allow myself to get dragged into their gravity well, I get filled with a sense of wonder. It's as if every new experience was new, fresh, exciting, and worthy of investigation.
The closer I get, the better I understand them.
[T3: Okay, roll for initiative]
[T1 Roll 1d20]
[T1: 20! Booya!]
What am I looking at?
My thought sends a pulse through the cluster that catches the attention of the four little stars. One by one they all turn to me.
I feel no threat coming from them, just an impression of amusement and curiosity.
[T3: Greetings, Master. Fancy meeting you here]
[T4: Oh! Oh! Is this a random encounter?]
[T2: Maybe he's here to give us a new quest]
[T3: But I want to be the Facility Overseer
I raise a metaphorical eyebrow, recognizing the unmistakable voice of the turrets.
Excuse me, what are you doing?
[T4: Playing Test Chambers and Monsters. I'm a lvl 5 Prima Donna turret!]
[T1: Right now we're on the noble quest to find the Sacred Cube of Companionship. Want to play?]
[T2: We are missing an off-tank]
[T1: Shush, you! Let him play the class that he wants]
- Location
- Chile
I wasnt implying that he was going to try to revive people who have been dead for a while, just more of a thing to revive people who will die in front of him in the future.
Since it was implied and with how long blades takes to make I'd figure he'd be in a hurry before hi s specialty changes.
Ahhh, brother, it seems you had felt the peace, understanding and strength of the Khala...... Let Aiur's embrace guide you!
- Pronouns
- He
Not to mention that Cauldron is propping it up behind the scenes?
Love the chapter. And the torrents were adorable. I am assuming the Blade will be ready next chapter.
He said it would take a few days to build it. And as 2 days have passed in this chapter (well 1 and a half) it should be ready in the next chapter. Or I hope so.
The same way he learned a lot about her through the connection, she learned about him.
@Poliamida how would corruptors fair against endbringers? Since from what I have seen they deal more damage the longer they attack (not sure how that works lore wise). Though I doubt that an endbringer would just let them keep spraying it.
He said it would take a few days to build it. And as 2 days have passed in this chapter (well 1 and a half) it should be ready in the next chapter. Or I hope so.
The same way he learned a lot about her through the connection, she learned about him.
It's up to @Poliamida how he defines recently dead. But I think up to a month is reasonable. Or at least a week or 2. But the author decides how he wants to play it.
@Poliamida how would corruptors fair against endbringers? Since from what I have seen they deal more damage the longer they attack (not sure how that works lore wise). Though I doubt that an endbringer would just let them keep spraying it.
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You misunderstood my meaning: it came across as vaguely like telling the guy that just came back from vacation that he needs to take some time off and relax