ScottotheUnwise
Verified Crack (fic) Dealer
- Location
- Mulberry, Fl
Tell that to Homestuck readers.
I like to think it is the personality of the character marinating in the stew of teenage-nano-werewolf-cyborg, Hero in a Derp World, Nurgle Power!
In Nuclear Fire
- Thread starter Poliamida
- Start date
I like to think it is the personality of the character marinating in the stew of teenage-nano-werewolf-cyborg, Hero in a Derp World, Nurgle Power!
Poliamida
(Verified Heavy Molecule)
- Location
- Beyond the Stars
Peter keeps throwing stuff into him and at some point he has forgotten all the moving pieces that are inside his tech. He has Star Craft, Deus Ex, Xenoblade, World of Darkness and most recently Dragon Ball. As his specialty keeps switching, he starts forgetting how his early trees worked, and so isn't fully capable of predicting how they will all behave when mashed together. And to top it all, he... didn't really forget exactly about what he added from WoD into his upgrade, but ignored some stuff in search of the shiny and assumed that everything else would behave. He certainly hasn't reached the point where he must rely on a three stooges syndrome to keep everything together, but should blindly trust his power less.
It's because of this last part why he isn't giving this most recent issue the gravity it may deserve. His power is telling him 'everything is working just as specified' and so he keeps discarding it in favor of more real and present issues.
EddBlackheart
Blunted Edge Lord
- Location
- Between Mind and Matter, Dream and Reality.
Speaking of Xenoblade, is 3 in the potential tech list?
- Location
- France
What would be the point? I'm 140h in, just starting the last chapter, and nothing I've seen so far would bring anything useful here.
- The Ouroboros? Make sense in the game but not here, and wouldn't top anything he already got.
- The cradles of rebirth? You come back as a 10 years old with all your memories gone. Nia is a better solution anyway.
- The "Blades"? They come from XC2, which he already got once.
- Lucky Seven/Blade of the End? Nothing more than a pale copy of Shulk's Monado from XC1.
But that doesn't change the fact that with the XC2 tree already come and gone, I don't think adding XC3 would bring anything other than, maybe, allow for a check-up of the Blades...
EddBlackheart
Blunted Edge Lord
- Location
- Between Mind and Matter, Dream and Reality.
I was thinking Flame Clocks to syphon Shard power.
Planet sized organism has to have a lot of life-force.
Ridli Scott
(Verified acid sweater mutant)
- Location
- The Periphery
Well, Poli started to play it the day it was released. Not sure how hapy or unhappy he is with it.
But there is an issue. Poli may know about Xenoblade 3, but Peter doesn't. Peter stopped knowing about Earth-RL since June 2021. I don't know how this translates to his shard. Could he have techtrees from franchises and fiction he doesn't know about?
I wonder how he would react to a techtree he has no idea. Could be interesting since one of his main advantages over other tinkers is that he know the shit he is assembling and from where it comes.
- Location
- France
Yeah, but that wouldn't help here. Unless a third kind appears at the end.
The "basic" Flame Clock that come with every Feronis can absorb the "life" of the enemies, but only if they are killed, "by hand or Blade", first. The point come up in the very first chapter, in a scene where the guy controlling a cannon is told to be more careful where he's shooting because, unlike the soldiers on the front line, if he kills soldiers, they won't get anything (also come up in a side quest in chapter 6). The point stand that even if such a clock could be made in such a way as to be able to absorb the "lifeforce" of the shards, you would still need to kill them first. That would mean having the capacity to access the realities where every shards are (since killing the parahumans would do nothing to the shards themselves), having the fire power to kill a shard in the first place (easier said than done since, you know, Planet sized organism, as you said) and finally, being able to do that without the Warrior detecting it and wiping you, and everything around you, out... At that point, if you can do all that, having a Flame Clock wouldn't really be useful...
As for the purple ones? They have to be calibrated to a specific "LifeForce WaveLenght" to even works, meaning that you have to scan for it for every single shards, and hope the effect would work across dimensions. And while, yes, they can forcefully siphon LF, only Mobius(es?) can activate that function.
And that without taking under consideration that only one specific Mobius (Y) can created the Flames Clocks, and only because it's the power he was given by Z. And, going by the powers Z gave the others (creating mud golems copy of peoples undistinguishable from the originals and possessing all their memories, freezing everything in place down to the very air molecules!, etc...), what those power can do cannot be reproduced by "mortal" means. You would have to have the same powers as Z to do it. And while he only have those powers (basically access to Console Commands from ElderScroll/Fallout) because he control Origin, Origin itself took the effort of two realities to build and I seriously doubt Peter would have the means, both in terms of materials, time and secrecy, to build a copy of it in the time he would have access to that tree.
I admit I might be wrong about things from the second spoiler (as I said, story wise I'm still just starting the last chapter, completing every side quests I can find before completing the ship). There might be plot twists in the final "donjon" that contradict what I wrote that I just have not yet been made aware of. In that case, please just disagree but don't spoil anything more.
Poliamida
(Verified Heavy Molecule)
- Location
- Beyond the Stars
It's techinically possible. But, as it has already been said, Peter doesn't know about it, and right now I don't think that it has distinctive enough technology that would really impact the story. If he had gotten access to it earlier it would have been another story.
I still need to watch that one!
In other news, I'm gearing up to DM my first DnD game, I'm super exited and slightly terrified.
EddBlackheart
Blunted Edge Lord
- Location
- Between Mind and Matter, Dream and Reality.
Another thought I had would be the Iris system. It does everything a Scarab/Visor does plus Blade storage and its hard to take from you.
Edit: Ninjad.
Last edited:
- Pronouns
- He/him
You should be, for you have forever lost your ability to be anything other than DM.
Nuclear Fire 81
Poliamida
(Verified Heavy Molecule)
- Location
- Beyond the Stars
I apologize for the delay. I blame Xenoblade 3 for it. Now back to gaming!
[Defragmentation Completed]
[All systems green]
[No errors detected]
At the same time that is and is not what I wanted to hear. On the one hand, everything is behaving as it should, all parts doing exactly what I designed them to do. On the other, well, I don't have the best track record at predicting how what I build will behave.
How much stuff do I have here? And I don't mean just discrete modules but also entire clashing philosophies?
First the Mecha-Zerg, and just there I have the space magic of the Protoss, the biological magic of the Zerg, and the super-science of the Terrans. All that, blended by Stetmann's madness.
Then there's Deus Ex which allowed the Mecha-Zerg to interlink with human biology, Xenoblade which already blindsided me once before, and World of Darkness which is-- complicated.
Most recently I added technology from Dragon Ball.
I fully intend to keep doing that. I'll only stop improving myself once all secrets of the universe have been unveiled and I have made sure that no force can threaten me. The problem is that as I add more stuff the complexity increases exponentially, and I can no longer be sure of how all the moving parts interact with each other.
Not that I ever understood how Protoss' space magic worked to begin with, but I'm digressing.
Returning to the matter at hand, as far as I'm aware, all my material needs are fulfilled. I'm neither repairing nor constructing anything. There should be no need for me to ingest any solids, even less so when the Big Gete Star can subtract material directly from the Hive.
And yet, that desire is still there.
Why do I want to eat when I need no nourishment? Is it gluttony? Some remnants of my monkey brain? If so, why is it hitting me now?
I have no answer for that, and so, for the time being, I solve the problem by simply fully turning my appetite off. Maybe it's just a bug, an unnecessary routine that's pointlessly draining RAM for no gain.
I've done all the appropriate checks, my power tells me that everything is as it should be, and I've isolated the problem. No point worrying about this as long as there are no further developments. I don't want to worry my teammates either so, for now, I'll put my focus on other stuff.
On Missy's birthday, as is the case.
I was never good at birthdays. Not at those of people my age, not my age, or even my own. It's awkward not knowing how to talk to people and ending up as the weird, silent guy sitting in a corner on his own. But my friends want me there so I'll be there. Maybe underneath a table waiting patiently for everything to sort itself out. From previous experiences, it's not like they'd notice me one way or another.
I remember this one time back when I was 12, I grew bored and left in the middle of a classmate's party. No one noticed.
"They made improvements," Taylor says as we approach. "I can't sense any bugs inside their base."
The Protectorate hasn't changed locations. We head towards the same airfield where they relocated after Leviathan turned their oil rig into a mobile base. Their intention may have once been for this to only be a temporal arrangement but it ended up becoming a permanent one.
"I'm also detecting pressure plates and even trip wires," I add. "They may be getting paranoid about finding ways to counter our intelligence network."
To our left, Aisha walks backward with her hands on her nape. "All that for little old me? They shouldn't have!"
It's slightly infuriating that magic-like technology is being countered by something that a medieval peasant could use to catch rabbits, but I'm unable to argue with the results.
"He said 'intelligence network', are you sure you qualify?" Mouse Protector snipes at her. "Also, did I tell you that I'm still angry at you for not taking me to New York?"
"Yes, you did," Taylor says through clenched teeth.
She still sees Mouse Protector as the 'good cop' to Piggot's bad one and doesn't yet fully trust her. The fact that the independent hero refuses to be ordered around hasn't eased the friction.
As we get closer my systems warn me about powerful energy signals, and I realize that the Protectorate has also upgraded their weaponry with electric cannons that could easily fry most electronics. They shouldn't be able to damage my equipment, but they'd still hurt like a bitch.
There's also the fact of the statement that they are trying to make with this.
At our back, Nia scoffs at it. "It's almost as if they don't want us here. Why did they even invite us?" On her shoulders, she carries Val who is having a lot of fun playing with her ears.
"Yeah, about that--" I'm about to explain a theory I have when I get suddenly interrupted by the voice of one of the PRT troopers that guards the entrance.
"Halt! What are you doing here?!"
Taylor takes a step forward almost as if challenging them to attack. "Kid Win of the Wards invited us to be here!" Does she need to make it sound that dramatic?
The guards exchange a glance and one retreats to use his radio.
Their communication lines are protected from my hacking, but that doesn't stop me from just listening to what they are saying.
"Sir, at the gates-- oh, you already saw them. Very well."
Uh, funny, I couldn't hear what the other person was saying. Why? Are they using some sort of filter?
I get an answer to that a moment later when Armsmaster arrives.
"At ease," He tells the guards who pull back letting the hero do the talking. "Heavy Gear has been given clearance to enter. Follow me."
We do as he says, and let him take us to one of the hangars.
On the way, I use the chance to ask him something that I have been wondering about since the invitation.
"Be honest with me, Kid Win wasn't supposed to tell me, was he? That's why you got surprised back at the hospital."
"Correct," Is Armsmaster's quick and sharp reply. "Also because I hadn't been informed about it."
Oh--
Damn, that must suck. But isn't he the leader of the Protectorate? Shouldn't he know what the Wards are up to?
I think that Piggot changed that arrangement so she could manage them directly. Renick must have kept it after seeing that Armsmaster wasn't the kind of person that you'd put in charge of a bunch of teenagers.
"But why?" Mouse Protector asks him. "You're the soul of every party!"
Even from here, I can hear the sound of Armsmaster's teeth grinding against each other at Mouse's presence.
"And how's Militia doing?" She continues. "It has been a while since I last saw her. And look! I even brought her favorites!" From a pocket, she pulls out a bag of--
Of M&M's.
Aisha snickers when she looks at it. "Damn, why didn't I think of that?"
I open my mouth to reply but Taylor does it first. "Because it's neither cruel nor unusual?"
"True. I'd have done something like gifting her a scarf with the Confederate flag."
"That was my graduation gift to her!" Mouse says full of pride.
Unconcerned by our conversation, Val points at the bag of candies. "Can I have one?"
Mouse replies by flickering her thumb and sending a piece of candy in Val's direction, which she catches with her mouth.
We continue, and soon enough we're in front of a rolling shutter, one of those that people would open to let forklifts into the hangar. Armsmaster opens it with the press of a button and--
Well--
This brings back memories.
Taped to a wall there's a banner that reads 'happy birthday'. The sound of teenage voices comes mixed with that of energetic music. There's a table with beverages, another one with food, and a third one with gift boxes wrapped in colorful papers.
From a purely mechanical perspective, this looks perfectly fine.
But then you look at the people.
The older Wards look to be doing alright. They are grouped talking about-- I have no idea what. Sports? Movies? Which popular actress is the hottest? Probably a popular topic of conversation when Flechette is part of their group, who currently has Sun's arm around her waist.
"So this is where you were," I greet her. "I wondered what you may have been doing."
Sun nods. "Flechette invited me."
"And we thank her for this wonderful gift!" Clockblocker steps into our conversation with two thumbs up, throwing the girls a glance. I can't see his eyebrows underneath his mask, but the tone of his voice tells me that he's moving them up and down.
"Pig," Flechette snaps at him, rolling her eyes.
"I'll happily oink if it means we can see you kissing again!"
And this has gotten slightly uncomfortable.
But it does give me an opening that I can exploit!
"May I interest you in a new job?" I offer Flechette.
Aegis flinches as he realizes that I'm trying to poach one of his team members but relaxes when she snickers. "As tempting as it would be to be in a team surrounded by beautiful women, I have to decline. I'm happy where I am."
Well, I tried.
And with that done, my attention gets directed to the girl of the day. The other half of the festive equation that tells me that not everything is well around here.
Missy's seated on a chair of her own a bit further away from everyone else. She may have noticed our arrival, but gives no indication of that as she continues browsing her phone.
"So, welcome to the party," she says when I get closer without raising her eyes from the screen. "Glad that you could make it."
I'm not Tattletale, but I'm around 80% sure that she's saying that just to be polite. "Happy to be here. Glad that you-- well, you didn't invite us. But it's still nice to be here."
Missy's scrolling thumb makes a pause before she shrugs. "It's not like I knew that they were arranging this shit. It was as much of a surprise for you as it was for me."
And that's why the other Ward were keeping a safe distance.
Kid Win's robot dog comes along with a tray of beverages on his back. Missy grabs a cup and downs it in a single gulp. "But you're already here so why shouldn't you try to enjoy it?"
Would anyone notice if I hurled myself underneath a table?
"Sorry that we didn't bring you a gift but the invitation surprised us," I tell her, scratching the back of my head. "I did think about gifting you an arm cannon but thought that the PRT would have confiscated it."
"They would have. I was supposed to be the 'cute one' while Stalker was all doom and gloom. Stalker is gone now but they have you so still no weapons for me."
The table with drinks may be across the room but that's no problem for Missy who just folds space to pick another cup.
Can you get drunk on coke?
Maybe sugar.
Something that I'll need to research.
For now, I carefully retreat to where the rest of my team is waiting for me.
"I can already see that this will go great," Taylor comments at my side, her arms folded while she looks at the group of assembled heroes with a small hint of apprehension.
"Tell me about it," Aisha replies. "Why did we come here in the first place?"
Just after she finishes that question, Kid's dog runs past us chased by Val.
"Come doggie! Here, doggie!"
She's on all fours, her body suspended by her mechanical arms.
Didn't I see a scene just like that in Aliens 2?
"Because of that." Taylor points at the playing duo. "Also because dad insisted that we should talk to more people our age."
The robot dashes head-first into a wall only to reveal that he can climb them. Sadly for him, so can Val.
"Oh, yeah," Aisha nods. "I liked it more when I was a single child."
"What about your brother?"
"He doesn't count." She glances at the table full of bite-size foods before turning back to Taylor. "And where's blondy?"
"Told me that she was going to be 'preoccupied' the entire day. Knowing her, she's still playing at being the Illuminati."
"That or it's that time of the month."
"Do you even-- you know what, don't answer that."
"Come on, biological functions are perfectly natural! And also very funny." Aisha punches her chest releasing a sonorous burp.
That manages to get a chuckle out of Taylor, and the two, now more relaxed, walk away so they can keep talking at their leisure.
A pity that Newt isn't here because I could use the company. She told us that she'd be waiting for us back home as there were things that she wanted to do.
Should I have asked her what she wanted to do? If she needed help? I'm here messing around while she's out there being useful.
At least I'm not the only one who's messing around. Mouse Protector is with Armsmaster, poking his sides, and even from here, I can hear his blood boiling.
And about Nia--
"Wait a second-- wait a damn second!" She zeroes into Kid Win who recoils back in fear while he hides something behind his back.
Was that a comic book?
"I saw that!" Nia insists. "Now show it to me!"
"I-- I--" Kid recoils back in fear but stops when Clockblocker puts an arm over his shoulders.
"Come on, girl! Cut him some slack. He only reads it for the plot!"
Next to the both of them, Gallant's forehead enters a steamy and tumultuous relationship with his palm.
"You better do it because I both write and draw for that magazine!" Nia snaps at them.
What?
Wait a moment-- that's one of ours!
I didn't recognize it at first but that magazine belongs to the first compilation of short stories that we printed. And it already reached the hands of one of the Wards? I'll need to ask Taylor and Lisa what marketing magic they performed to spread it like that.
Tits. The answer is most likely tits.
Kid straightens up. "You did? Eh-- which-- one?"
"As if I'm telling you." She snatches the magazine out of his grip, making both him and Clock flinch. "Now tell me, which one was your favorite?" She asks while idly flickering through the pages.
"I--I--"
Clock comes once again to his rescue. "You know, it's generally polite to give your own opinion before asking for someone else's."
I'm not entirely sure that's how it works but Nia seems to agree with that logic. Even if she does snap her tongue in the process. "The one with the fox girl, duh."
"That one?!" Both Kid, Clock, and also Gallant yell at the same time.
"So you did read it!" Nia aims an accusatory finger at this last one.
"M-maybe? I-- liked the drawings?"
Nia shakes her head. "You boys wouldn't recognize art if it hit you in the back of the head. I'll go ask for the opinion of an adult. Maybe Miss Militia."
"No!"
That conversation devolves into a cat-and-mouse chase through the entire room as Nia runs away laughing with the boys on the chase.
Those three have no idea what they just got into.
Well, I'm happy that my team is at least comfortable. Even when I'm reliving my childhood by having no idea what to do during a social event.
Oh, well, if anything this gives me a chance to do something I've wanted to do for a while now.
My feet take me to the snack table and my mind wanders to our fight with the Butcher. The reason for my failure was that I had focused my entire arsenal on overwhelming firepower, assuming that there'd never be a situation that enough force wouldn't be able to solve. I didn't account for scenarios with a target I wouldn't want to kill.
As I munch some potato chips, I think about Aegis.
What is his power? Flight and biological redundancy. He isn't particularly stronger than a normal human but has so many redundancies that even beheading him wouldn't be enough to kill him. If I ever fight someone with that power, I need to fully vaporize their head to kill them or cover them in anti-brute foam to contain them.
With the bag of potato chips empty, I move to the crackers.
The next on my list would be Gallant. His lasers aren't particularly destructive, but they force different emotions on the targets. With good defenses and anti-master devices in place, he's just another human.
The mini-pizzas look nice.
Kid Win has the problem of being a tinker, and therefore unpredictable. That makes it almost impossible to properly plan against him.
Are those shrimps? Who serves shrimps at the birthday party of a 13-years old girl? Probably government agencies that need to spend their morale budget or else they get less money next year. They do look delicious, though.
Clockblocker is a curious case because he's effectively invincible if he sees the attack coming. He just needs to freeze his costume making him impervious to all forms of attack. He still needs to breathe, though, so I'm assuming that his costume has holes, making him vulnerable to airborne substances. Unless he has a supply of oxygen somewhere inside it.
Oh, mini-hot dogs!
And then there's Missy. Maybe one of the most dangerous people here. She has no special defenses or means of attack, but whichever side she's on has full control of the battlefield. Give her time to act and she'll twist space to her leisure, leaving her target trapped. The only way to defend against that is to have early-warning systems and teleporters, but I can't discount the possibility of a tinker helping her mask her activities.
Who else is there? I feel like I'm missing--
So focused I am browsing through my memories that I almost crash into another person who's also going through the snacks table.
They are fairly tall. A head taller than Taylor. Dressed in a trench coat that covers their entire body and wearing a fedora.
That sends all kinds of alarms off inside my head.
Who the fuck wears a trench coat to a little girl's party and doesn't expect people to call the police?
Or the superheroes, as it were.
The person turns around and I'm faced with a single blue glowing eye the size of a baseball that peeks from behind the buttons of the coat.
"Shhhh," the turret tells me, placing one of her legs over the eyes. "Don't tell anyone that we're crashing the party."
"Hey, hey, is there any cheesecake?" The voice of one of her sisters comes from somewhere inside the disguise. "I want cheesecake!"
"I want chocolate!"
"Can't we have McDonald's?"
The four of them -I have no idea how they all fit inside- start arguing amongst themselves and walk away wobbling from side to side.
How did they--?
When--?
I'm not going to question any of that.
What was I doing?
Oh, yeah, picking something to eat. Didn't the turrets say something about cheesecake?
Before I can search for it, a voice interrupts me.
"That's an oxymoron, you know?"
I turn towards its source only to find myself staring into what I think is Newt until I realize that Newt is green and not blue. That's also not skin but tight-fitting spandex. The final clue is that the voice who spoke to me was male.
I look up.
And up.
And just a little bit higher before I finally reach a full-face mask adorned by a diamond on the forehead.
Browbeat. Reverse-Panacea. He can rearrange his mass, heal damage, create counters to toxins that enter his bloodstream on the spot, and enhance his general biology. I swear that I have no idea how he scratches his nose past all those muscles.
I'm also unsure about how I'd go about killing him because I ignore the extent of his upgrades. Would he be able to resist the direct blast of a plasma shot? What about being beheaded? And I have the same problem when considering how to retrain him. Would he be able to create an enzyme that dissolves whatever product that we use to contain him?
Oh, yeah, he did ask me a question.
"What thing?" I reply while munching some tacos.
"Your name. Tech-Priest. It's a figure of speech where two contradictory terms appear in conjunction."
That's a strange way to start a conversation. And I don't even see what he means, what's so wrong about being a priest that worships technology? The AdMech do it perfectly fine.
"You'll have to explain that one to me because I don't see the contradiction." The tacos were alright but I had better. I want something sweet now.
"Technology is the application of scientific knowledge to the practical aims of human life," Browbeat speaks as if reading from a dictionary while he follows me in my search for more snacks. "It's about recognizing the variables and patterns that govern the natural world and controlling them to reach a desired end. In religion, there are no such stable patterns or variables. It's about trusting the arbitrary rules dictated by a higher being without knowing their precise reason or objective."
Damn, did cheese puffs always have these many calories? I could fill a good chunk of my energy reserves with a couple of bags.
But back to Browbeat, his point is understandable. Especially from the perspective of someone who believes that the universe can be understood. I miss the days when I believed that. Nowadays I think that the universe is a screaming mass of chaos and that the only order we can find is that which we can carve out of it.
"Is there such a difference, though?" I ask him back. "The Romans sacrificed animals when building because they had seen that it strengthened their concrete. They just didn't know that it was the iron in the blood that improved their mixture, not the favor of the gods."
And talking about sacrificing animals, maybe some ham and cheese next?
Damn, what's with me today? I already knew that I have no self-control for trash food, but why is it hitting me so badly now? Are those the remnants of my lizard brain latching to the familiar pleasure of greasy food?
"They lacked the information and tools to know better." Browbeat continues with his argument.
"Does it matter? They had seen a pattern, recognized it, and found a reliable way to reproduce the outcome. That's how the scientific method works. Just replace 'chemistry' with 'magic' or whatever you want to call the energy that triggers the process."
"The scientific method is a perpetual cycle that doesn't settle for a singular answer. The concepts of 'faith' and 'gods' exist as means to put the responsibility for our actions and achievements in the hands of someone else. They negate the search for a deeper meaning."
Do you know what I could use right now?
Cheese empanadas!
I miss my country's cooking.
"That I'll agree with," I concede Browbeat's point. "But you're talking about an extreme situation. I'll argue that faith is quite useful and important when used in moderation."
"Why, though? Faith is the strong belief in something regardless of proof or fact. Something tangible is better."
Oh, they have those little sausages covered in dough! I command you to get inside my belly!
"Yes, but take into account that, as of right now, we don't fully comprehend how the universe works. Until we do, we can only have faith that we'll eventually reach that level."
Browbeat makes a pause, placing a finger underneath where I think his nose is.
"I'll need to think further about that. I'll make one last argument, though. The act of worship implies the veneration of a higher being. But technology isn't above us. It was created by and for humans. From that perspective, I say that technology cannot be worshiped."
"What is worship, though?" I ask, putting my now empty bottle of soda down. "The way I see it, people worship something when they feel that the system escapes their control. When they start believing that they can't steer it towards a positive end, their only option left is to beg and hope that someone listens." I punch my chest to get rid of the accumulation of carbon dioxide.
"But we control technology."
"Do we? Tinkers certainly don't." It's slightly embarrassing to admit it, but one just needs to look at anything I build to confirm it. And as far as the world is concerned, tinkers are the leading experts on advanced tech. "The average person doesn't understand how their cell phone works. It just does. Add to that the fact that most companies keep their patents a secret, and people pray whenever their phones malfunction because what else can they do?" I lick the cream from the tip of my fingers. "And don't get me started on printers."
"In that case, all you have to do is call the technician."
"Just like people call the priest whenever they need divine intervention. The technician then tells them a series of rites they need to perform to keep the machines their lives revolve around working. They ask you to respect your devices, be patient with them, and clean them. And don't you dare use third-party accessories if you don't want them to get offended and shut down." I shrug. "The simple fact is that the God of technology was already born. Its parents were necessity and comfort, and the three magi that visited it were obsession, dependance, and laziness."
I knew of a person in my old life who flat-out gave offerings to his desktop printer to make it work, and no one could blame him after the repairmen had failed to keep it working.
The scary part was that freakish thing only seemed to work when he was the one using it.
I'm ready to continue my argument with Browbeat when I'm made aware of a very important fact: our surroundings have gone oddly silent.
I look around and realize that both the Wards and my team are staring at us as if we were circus attractions.
"Oh, no," Clockblocker mutters. "There's two of them now."
Missy responds to that by kicking him on the shins.
Well, this is awkward. Not like Browbeat seems to care, though.
"Thank you for your time, Tech-Priest. I enjoyed our conversation. I hope we can continue it another time."
"Yeah, no problem." I extend a hand towards him, Browbeat looks down at it and then back at me.
"I'd rather not."
I'm about to ask what the problem is when I notice that my hands are covered in a thick layer of grease, Cheeto dust, and other food-related stains. Nothing that my body can't easily break down and assimilate, but at the moment it takes me to wash myself Browbeat turns tail and leaves.
Oh, well, I'm just happy that he got satisfied with our talk. It was nice.
"I should order more food," Aegis says with a hint of despair and resignation. I turn around to point at the table that just a moment ago was full of edibles only to find it empty. It's as if a swarm of locusts had just gone through it.
Is that a bite mark on one of the plastic dishes?
Did-- did I just do that?
How?
When?
And where did all that go? Not to my hips, I hope.
"What's up with you?" Taylor asks me, her words tinkling with concern as she looks down at me.
There's no answer that I can give her. I don't have one myself. I started eating because I wanted to and now all of that is somewhere inside my body being used for who-knows-what.
It's exactly in moments like these when I start praying for a way out of the problems I get myself into.
We head to a nearby table that has some empty chairs waiting for us, and in just a moment both Nia and Val join us. There's a cracking sound when I set my weight on the plastic chair, but by locking my joints in place I manage to keep my posture. I just need to be careful not to move too much to not offset my center of gravity.
"Shouldn't you be looking into that?" Nia asks, giving me a hard look.
"Yeah!" Valerie adds. "Too much candy makes your tummy go pooey!"
And now all four of them are looking at me waiting for an answer.
Shit, I'm not good at admitting when I need medical intervention. I just don't want to unnecessarily worry anyone, and I never like admitting that there's something wrong with me. I was counting on this problem going away on its own and happily pretending it was never an issue.
"I already did," I admit, trying not to shift too much as that'd break the chair. "I don't know what's wrong. I just have been craving food for no apparent reason."
Aisha snickers. "Mysterious craving that you can't explain? That sounds to me like you're--"
"Imp!" Taylor interrupts before Aisha can elaborate, maybe not wanting to hear more about biological functions. Or maybe concerned about me if that happened to be true. This body is shaped like a woman's after all.
Little do they know how wrong they are.
"I'll have you know that I removed every and all biological functions," I tell them, gesturing down at myself. "So, no, this body doesn't have a uterus the same way that it doesn't suffer from a menstrual cycle. Also, shame on you, Imp. You already made a joke like that today."
She releases an over-dramatic gasp placing the back of her hand against her forehead. "You're so right! How shameful! I'll go commit sudoku in atonement!"
Taylor gives her a look. "Do you even know how to spell sudoku?"
"F-u-c-k-y-o-u!"
We break down laughing at that. No matter the place, no matter the situation, a good laugh never fails to improve the mood.
"Is this normal for you?" Missy interrupts, dragging a chair that she sets next to our table. "First he-" she gestures at me, "-eats enough to feet twelve people-"
"It wasn't that much, was it?" I interject, but she continues without listening.
"Then he admits that he cut a piece of himself out, and you just laugh it off?"
I didn't cut them out! I-- kind of melted them away?
Wait, what am I saying? I didn't have those to begin with!
"What can I say?" Taylor replies with a dismissive gesture of her hand. "The idea of not suffering monthly pains is the best argument he has made so far for transhumanism."
Uh? Ok, I need to write this down and use it for later.
I don't think that this is the right moment for that, though.
Missy gives Taylor a long stare before shaking her head. "When I first got my powers I had nightmares of twisting people into things that would make that fucking bitch Bonesaw proud. And this idiot does it for pleasure!"
"Hey!" Valerie yells. "Language!"
"Shut up! I have more than enough of that from the assholes in the PR department!"
Maybe we should all take a step back and take a long, deep, calming breath. Some wild emotions are being thrown back and forth in here. Missy hasn't been the same since Leviathan, and she's still hanging to some heavy baggage.
An adult should talk to her.
Oh, right--
"I will say that it's not out of pleasure that I do this, even if I do enjoy it quite a lot." Damn, I suck at this, don't I?
Thankfully, once again Aisha is there for me. "What crawled up your ass and died, princess?"
A lock of hair falls in front of Missy's mouth which she blows away. "I did! Remember?"
"Oh, big deal. Join the club."
Aisha's words make Missy flinch. "You-- you did?"
"Yup." She nods. "Against the Butcher of all people. It wasn't even a big deal. There was a lot of pain for a moment, then I felt this pressure on my chest, then the pain ended and I told myself 'hey, this isn't so bad, it's kind of peaceful even' and you know what I don't think I want to talk about this anymore."
We were already a shit-show, and the constant dance with death at knife's edge hasn't improved our situation.
Who could have guessed?
We need to hire an on-site psychologist. Or build it! Fingers crossed for Big Heroes 6 so I can build Baymax.
"Didn't you talk to Miss Militia about it?" I ask, remembering our last meeting which ended with Missy talking with the older hero.
Missy shifts her weight on the chair as if fighting against herself to not flee. "I did. She told me how she grew up knowing that every time she looked at the face of one of her companions she couldn't be sure if that would be the last time she saw them. She told me how lucky the Wards are that they don't have to go through that. How they would have been sad if I hadn't returned but, hey, I'm still here. And I can keep coming back as long as you're around."
There's something there that I don't like. Something that rings in my ears and makes me go 'maybe this isn't what you want to tell a traumatized little girl if you want to raise a healthy adult'. But if it works then I won't complain.
"That sounds like a reasonable way to look at it."
"Maybe? It also makes it sound like my death didn't matter."
I raise an eyebrow. "It really doesn't. That was the entire point."
"Then what? Does that mean that no one should care if I die again because you can print another Vista whenever you want?"
This is getting awkward.
And it's not even how my technology works! I think. I haven't even gone through Star Trek yet!
But I suspect that's not going to help me here.
I throw Taylor a look pleading for help. Does she have any suggestions? Any insight that could help us here? The basic way she fixes problems is by drowning them in spiders, but something tells me that won't help us here.
"May I make a suggestion?" Nia offers, raising a hand. She doesn't bother waiting for a reply and kneels next to Missy, coming to be at eye-level with me. "Hey, Vista, I'm Nia, the one who revived you."
As a form of reply, Missy pushes air sonorously out of her nose. "I'm not stupid, you know? I know both who and what you are. Not like I'm going to tell."
She-- she does? How? Maybe it's the fact that I never particularly bothered hiding it.
"Oh, someone needs a good spanking."
"You may try. I fought Hookwolf once, you know? And he--"
Missy gets abruptly silenced when Nia takes her by the shoulders and forces her into a hug, pressing her head against her chest.
I don't know who was more surprised by that. Us, or Missy, who's perfectly still with her arms firmly at the sides of her body as if not knowing how to reply to that.
"You fucking bitch." Well, that's how.
"Technically correct," Nia snickers. "I'm a fox after all."
Missy's fingers twitch, and slowly she reaches for Nia's back, holding her clothes in a firm grip. A moment later she jerks her hands away as if she had set them on a red-hot stove.
"Okay, that's enough. Please let me go."
Nia complies.
"Only because you said please." She smiles, patting Missy's back. "Feeling better?"
"Next time bring a gift." Defiant till the end.
"But we already gave you the gift of life!" Wow, Aisha, really?
To that Missy replies with a single raised finger.
All is well that ends well. We manage to enjoy our time, maybe improve our relationship with the Wards, and help a friend. Yes, what a nice break from day-to-day horrible reality.
I'd even dare say that I had already forgotten all my problems! Neat!
"Hey, Newt? I bring you cake!" I knock at the door that leads to one of our training areas, but there's no reply. Contacting her through the Hive already failed as I was hit with a 'don't disturb' sign. I should have left it there but I'd be lying if I said I'm not concerned. If there's anything that she needs help with, I want to make sure that she gets all she may need.
I raise my fist to knock again but before I can do so the door opens.
Alarms ring inside my ears and the doors at both ends of the corridor instantly lock in place to prevent the flare that hit me from spreading over the base.
I look down at the slice of cake that I brought and find a piece of charcoal in its place.
Oh, well, it was a fruit cake so it's not like anyone will miss it. I just let my body absorb the remains to later turn them into something useful.
Now to the more pressing topic of figuring out why there's a furnace here.
The one who opened the door wasn't Newt but 63. I have a moment of surprise -and just slight panic- when I see him surrounded by flames that could have flash-fried an entire cow in a matter of seconds, but then I'm reminded that he's a zerg. They were designed to survive extreme conditions and to harvest volcanic planets as easily as oceanic ones.
He greets me, and with a wave of one of his pincers gestures for me to follow.
In the center of the room, I find the source of this intense heat. Newt sits there with her legs crossed and her eyes closed. There's a rictus of concentration across her face and a sphere of plasma hovering above her palms.
So this is what she has been up to. How is she keeping her clothes from burning? Not like I'd want them to, of course.
I'm about to leave and let her continue in peace but she must have noticed my presence because one of her eyes cracks open. "Already back? I must have lost track of time." She swipes her hands and the sphere disappears, allowing the room to slowly descend back to a more normal temperature. I offer her a hand and she takes her to get back to her feet. "So, how did it go?"
"Fairly well." I shrug. "But what about you? I see you've been training your fire manipulation." All Blades unlock unique powers when successfully turned into Flesh-Eaters. Newt was originally a frontliner with raw strength and durability, but after her upgrade, she gained dominance over her element that may rival Brighid's or even Pyra's. At least I assume so because I haven't seen her make full use of it yet.
She throws her head back and laughs with her hands at her waist. "Yeah! It caught me by surprise when I did it for the first time but now I'm trying to perfect it." She snaps her fingers and sparks flew off as if she was trying to turn a lighter on. After a couple of tries, she summons the plasma sphere once again. "There we go! Want to give it a try? You should be able to do this, shouldn't you?"
Wouldn't even break a sweat. That's Dragon Ball's specialty after all. According to my power, the way the characters in the show accomplish their multiple feats is through the control of their natural energy. They generate enough bio-electricity to power several cities, and by shaping it -through means that, admittedly, I don't understand- they can superheat and direct it around them. I don't have a biology that can do that, but I can easily replicate the effect by lining my palms with electromagnets and microwave emitters. I just need to feed them enough energy and-- there we go! There's now a ball of plasma floating above my hand, not as hot as Newt's but roughly the same size.
She looks at it and whizzes. "Damn, I wish I could do it that easily. I spent the entire morning working on this."
I flinch and lose concentration, causing the sphere to disappear. Did I offend her? That wasn't my intention. "It's just my power. You can do this on your own while I have an alien supercomputer feeding me all the answers." I cheat. And that's awesome! But not so much when that voids the efforts of the people I care about.
"That's fine," she says as if she wasn't the big deal. "I've been thinking about the battle, you know? That's why I locked myself in here thinking of new ways to fight our enemies. I just sometimes forget that asking for help is an option."
And isn't that something that I understand? "Why don't you, though?" My first instinct is to assume that I'm being a nuisance but I doubt that's Newt's deal.
"Because that's my function in the team. I should be the one coming up with ways to defeat our opponents."
We all have our roles that we must fulfill to take this team to victory. That may be hers, but mine is to provide the others with the tools they may need to fulfill their desires.
"That may be true, but I'm your weaponsmith so remember that whatever you may need, I'll do my best to get it to you. So, please, do ask."
Maybe some gloves that make generating and controlling the sphere of plasma easier? If she has an easier time working in high temperatures then I can build a heater. If she wants to focus on artillery support I could build an energy backpack to boost her powers. The entire thing will need a frame. Armored better.
Now I'm picturing something in my head that resembles a Firebat from starcraft.
"I'll keep it in mind!" She says, patting my back. There was a time when she'd have easily dropped me to the ground with that strength, but since then my systems adapted. "But for now, what I need is a partner to play tennis."
Did I mishear what she just said?
"Tennis? Should I get a racket or-- ouch!"
I look down at my shoulders, and at the burnt mark that's quickly patching up.
On one of the walls, 63 draws a 1 underneath a letter N.
Oh, I see! Does she want to play rough? I can play rough!
We each take our places in opposite corners of the room, and I barely have time to get in position before Newt hurls another ball of plasma. I catch it and throw it back, but my projectile loses cohesion and disperses mid-flight.
No good. The magnetic field I encased it in started falling apart the moment I let go of it.
"Sometimes it happens," Newt says while I work. "You come up with a plan, think it's good, execute it properly, and still fail."
"I know. It's still frustrating, though." Ok, I think I got it. "From what I've been told, that's just how life is. Not like I'd know. I prefer--"
"The models inside your head?"
My lips curl. "Yeah. That's why I spend so much time inside it, where things are predictable."
Take two! I throw my ball at her and this time it reaches its destination before Newt smacks it and sends it speeding towards me.
"Same." Her throw curves in the air and would have hit my midriff if I hadn't jumped back and caught it in my arms. "Have you thought of how to counter The Butcher?"
"Dealing with the teleportation is easy. We just need to remove the eyes. But I don't know if they need eyes to see people's blood or if they can teleport with that."
Now, how do I replicate that effect? With some modification to my electromagnetic emitters, I should be able to control the projectile at range.
"That just means that we have to ambush them with those of us who don't have a circulatory system."
I throw. A straight line. Newt gets ready to intercept it but before she can hit it, the ball breaks to the left and underneath her hands, hitting her waist.
63 draws a 1 underneath a P.
"The next problem is the way they fester wounds," Newt continues, pulling her arm back. "But Nia already took care of that." Her next throw is aimed at the wall. The ball bounces and changes trajectory straight for my head.
I catch it, but when I do the ball explodes in my hands granting her another point. "Their overwhelming strength will soon stop being a problem. The way I'm growing, I'm reasonably sure that the next time we meet I'll be stronger."
How did she manage that effect? Either with a timer or she purposely weakened the integrity of her projectile so I'd explode the moment I squeezed it. Whatever it is, playing defensively isn't an option here.
Newt serves, and this time I reply with a quick jab that sends the ball back at her. She answers in kind and soon we enter a cycle. "And if Nia's with us, we should be able to remove their limbs while ensuring that they don't die of blood loss."
"They may be able to regrow them, but that just means that we need to keep chopping."
"I wonder if they'll be able to do that if we cauterize the wounds," Newt adds with a predatory smile. It's nice to know that we're on the same wavelength.
I manage to surprise Newt by sending my projectile at unnatural angles, and she surprises me by splitting it in half and attacking me from opposite sides.
Soon we enter a rhythm. A push and a pull. An action and a reaction. Slowly a pattern emerges and we both set into our roles, fighting to remain on top but uninterested in keeping the other down. We just want to have fun, and trust that the other wants the same.
"Still, it's scary, you know?" I admit, allowing my body to move with the rhythm we established and letting my mind wander off. "Not the Butcher in particular, but the idea of something unexpected happening again. I'm scared of control slipping out of our fingers."
"Why, though?" She counters. "What are you so scared of? Unpredictability? Weakness?"
The projectile disappeared from the visible spectrum, swirling in a way that bends the light. I knew its speed and trajectory, though, and so when I swipe my hand at where it should be, I hit it.
"Loneliness. I don't like being alone and that's what I believe chaos will bring. That's why I created you all, to counter it."
"And yet you gave us the freedom to leave if we wanted."
Newt spins on the tip of her foot and kicks the ball with all her might. I try to return the ball but the strength behind it is too much and I drop to the floor.
"I don't like people lying to me!" I say while picking myself up. "I prefer someone honestly despising me over them giving me false smiles. That all sounds a bit contradictory, doesn't it?"
"No. It's all fairly straightforward." Newt shrugs before her serve, and soon enough we return to our dance. "Tell me, what do you see in me?"
I'm about to return the ball but the question short-circuits my brain and I end up receiving it with my face.
"What I see as in--?"
"You know what I mean." She grins putting her teeth on display.
It's because of this that I prefer to carry out a conversation in a written form, maybe behind the protection of a screen and maybe with an ocean in the middle.
When using messages I can take my time carefully analyzing what the other person said and curating an appropriate response before sending it. It gives me time to order my chaotic thoughts and plan ahead.
That's an option that I don't have here.
But screw it! I'm good when working under pressure. It's when backed into a corner and robbed of other options but to act when all the noise falls into silence.
I just need to let myself go and not think too hard.
"I see someone who knows herself," I reply, moving my mouth and forcing words out of it. "Someone who knows what she wants and how to achieve it. You understand yourself, your abilities, and your limits. I find that certainty so damn attractive! Sometimes I fear that I spend too much time thinking about what could go wrong to do anything productive."
There! I said it! Now I need to wait for her reply. Did she appreciate what I just said? Did she not? Was there anything that I could have said differently to make it better? It's already too late for that.
Maybe I should have kept my head on the game and not the infinite possibilities. That way I'd have noticed the plasma ball that smashes into my nose.
"And yet you didn't doubt when you told Taylor to burn Winslow down, didn't you?"
"Of course not!" My voice comes out in a high pitch while my nose rebuilds itself. "That place-- it wasn't a school, barely even a building. It was a cesspit of pain and misery, and I fully believe that we did the morally right thing when we turned it into ashes!" What was even the point of allowing its existence? As long as it remained functioning Taylor would continue suffering. "But that's the thing, I don't believe that there was a choice there. How could it be when the alternative was allowing Taylor to go back?"
When the alternative to a decision is death (or something so similar to it that the differences can be disregarded) there's no decision to be made. Any conceivable outcome would have been better.
Newt fidgets with her fingers while she readies for her serve. "If I had been there I'd have advised against that. Not only out of respect for Taylor's choice but also because you were still too small and the risk of discovery was too big. Heck, that incident was what put the PRT on your trail."
The ball comes at me at full speed, but this time I'm focused and easily hit it back.
Newt talks about Taylor's choice. It may be thoughtless of me to say it, but was she in a position to make an informed decision? Winslow was a parasite that had cast a shadow over her life, robbing her of hope the same way a leech feeds on blood. Friends don't let friends self-destruct.
Still, from a purely utilitarian perspective, I see where Newt's coming from. We took a huge risk motivated by chance and strong emotions. We could have easily waited just another week and come up with a better plan. At the very least we'd have been able to hide our traces better.
"Do you think we did the wrong thing?"
"No. You and I simply value different things. You focused on Taylor's well-being while I'd have focused on the team as a whole. I try to be objective with everything I do."
I hurl the ball, Newt turns sideways and hits it with her hip. My mind goes blank and I barely register when she scores yet another point.
Now that was plain unfair!
How many of those do we-- holy! She's 18 and I'm just 11. And where did 63 get those flags that he's swinging?
I think this has gone on for long enough. It's not like I have a counter to Newt's latest strategy after all.
"Same," I reply walking to 63 who looks a bit disappointed that the game is over. "But then I get angry or don't properly analyze the situation and end up doing something stupid. I'm scared of doing something that may end up harming any of you."
"Would you ever do it willingly?"
"No!" I snap at her. The idea of ever doing anything that hurts them by accident already fills me with dread. Doing it on purpose? No. Never. The very concept is so repulsive that I can't even properly picture it in my head. "I swear I'd forever give up on tinkering before betraying your trust. It wouldn't even be a hard choice." They are my people, the ones I chose to stand alongside with. Everything I do is to be able to enjoy moments like these with them.
Newt looks at me and smiles. "And that's why I'm here, and why I wouldn't doubt risking my life to help you because I know you'd do the same for me."
As if that'd ever be in question. "Without a moment of doubt."
She gives 63 a look. That seems to be an arranged signal because he darts into the tunnels behind the walls. A moment later he emerges balancing a tray on his head where he carries a bottle of vodka and two glasses.
"I didn't know you have a stash of this stuff," I say while Newt pours two shots.
"There are some things that you have yet to know about me. I may help you find out."
I'd like that. I'd like that a lot.
Newt takes one glass. "Can you even drink one of these?"
"I can." I take the second one. "Maybe I shouldn't because I'm still legally underaged but it's not like any of us care too much about following the law." Danny would get a heart attack if he saw drinking this. Can I be affected by this stuff? Even if I can't, I should be able to taste it, and with some tweaking to my systems, I should be able to replicate the effects of inebriation. "I was never a big drinker in my previous life, though."
"Because you didn't like it or because you didn't have the proper company?"
I smirk at her. "Let's find out, shall we?" Here goes nothing. "Cheers," I say, raising my glass.
"Cheers," Newt replies in kind.
And just a moment after the toast--
My phone starts ringing.
For the love of--
"Yes?" I need to fight against myself to not shatter the glass in my grip.
"Oh, thanks Lord you're still there!"
This isn't a voice I want to hear right now. "What do you need, Lisa?"
"Listen! I forgot! I assumed you knew but then I remembered 'oh, yeah, this guy isn't from around here' so of course you wouldn't know."
Ok--
She's rambling. And I'm not happy with any of the words that she's saying.
"Lisa? You're scaring me here. What is it?"
"The moon phases! How did you figure them out?"
Is this about my transformation? Supposedly the first time a Garu goes through it is fairly chaotic, but I should have another week before I need to worry about it.
"I got a calendar from my power." Who could have said that a power derived from a universe where the moon is a big deal could come with one of those?
"Oh, no. Oh, nonono! Listen, Earth Bet is in another world! Your power is either based on your original world or the one you got your powers from! Because of Sphere, the Simurg, and then String Theory, the phases of the moon got changed! The full moon isn't next week, it's today!"
Oh--
Well, that explains a lot of what I've been going through!
I better go build a Saiyan-grade cage.
Nuclear Fire 81
[Defragmentation Completed]
[All systems green]
[No errors detected]
At the same time that is and is not what I wanted to hear. On the one hand, everything is behaving as it should, all parts doing exactly what I designed them to do. On the other, well, I don't have the best track record at predicting how what I build will behave.
How much stuff do I have here? And I don't mean just discrete modules but also entire clashing philosophies?
First the Mecha-Zerg, and just there I have the space magic of the Protoss, the biological magic of the Zerg, and the super-science of the Terrans. All that, blended by Stetmann's madness.
Then there's Deus Ex which allowed the Mecha-Zerg to interlink with human biology, Xenoblade which already blindsided me once before, and World of Darkness which is-- complicated.
Most recently I added technology from Dragon Ball.
I fully intend to keep doing that. I'll only stop improving myself once all secrets of the universe have been unveiled and I have made sure that no force can threaten me. The problem is that as I add more stuff the complexity increases exponentially, and I can no longer be sure of how all the moving parts interact with each other.
Not that I ever understood how Protoss' space magic worked to begin with, but I'm digressing.
Returning to the matter at hand, as far as I'm aware, all my material needs are fulfilled. I'm neither repairing nor constructing anything. There should be no need for me to ingest any solids, even less so when the Big Gete Star can subtract material directly from the Hive.
And yet, that desire is still there.
Why do I want to eat when I need no nourishment? Is it gluttony? Some remnants of my monkey brain? If so, why is it hitting me now?
I have no answer for that, and so, for the time being, I solve the problem by simply fully turning my appetite off. Maybe it's just a bug, an unnecessary routine that's pointlessly draining RAM for no gain.
I've done all the appropriate checks, my power tells me that everything is as it should be, and I've isolated the problem. No point worrying about this as long as there are no further developments. I don't want to worry my teammates either so, for now, I'll put my focus on other stuff.
On Missy's birthday, as is the case.
I was never good at birthdays. Not at those of people my age, not my age, or even my own. It's awkward not knowing how to talk to people and ending up as the weird, silent guy sitting in a corner on his own. But my friends want me there so I'll be there. Maybe underneath a table waiting patiently for everything to sort itself out. From previous experiences, it's not like they'd notice me one way or another.
I remember this one time back when I was 12, I grew bored and left in the middle of a classmate's party. No one noticed.
"They made improvements," Taylor says as we approach. "I can't sense any bugs inside their base."
The Protectorate hasn't changed locations. We head towards the same airfield where they relocated after Leviathan turned their oil rig into a mobile base. Their intention may have once been for this to only be a temporal arrangement but it ended up becoming a permanent one.
"I'm also detecting pressure plates and even trip wires," I add. "They may be getting paranoid about finding ways to counter our intelligence network."
To our left, Aisha walks backward with her hands on her nape. "All that for little old me? They shouldn't have!"
It's slightly infuriating that magic-like technology is being countered by something that a medieval peasant could use to catch rabbits, but I'm unable to argue with the results.
"He said 'intelligence network', are you sure you qualify?" Mouse Protector snipes at her. "Also, did I tell you that I'm still angry at you for not taking me to New York?"
"Yes, you did," Taylor says through clenched teeth.
She still sees Mouse Protector as the 'good cop' to Piggot's bad one and doesn't yet fully trust her. The fact that the independent hero refuses to be ordered around hasn't eased the friction.
As we get closer my systems warn me about powerful energy signals, and I realize that the Protectorate has also upgraded their weaponry with electric cannons that could easily fry most electronics. They shouldn't be able to damage my equipment, but they'd still hurt like a bitch.
There's also the fact of the statement that they are trying to make with this.
At our back, Nia scoffs at it. "It's almost as if they don't want us here. Why did they even invite us?" On her shoulders, she carries Val who is having a lot of fun playing with her ears.
"Yeah, about that--" I'm about to explain a theory I have when I get suddenly interrupted by the voice of one of the PRT troopers that guards the entrance.
"Halt! What are you doing here?!"
Taylor takes a step forward almost as if challenging them to attack. "Kid Win of the Wards invited us to be here!" Does she need to make it sound that dramatic?
The guards exchange a glance and one retreats to use his radio.
Their communication lines are protected from my hacking, but that doesn't stop me from just listening to what they are saying.
"Sir, at the gates-- oh, you already saw them. Very well."
Uh, funny, I couldn't hear what the other person was saying. Why? Are they using some sort of filter?
I get an answer to that a moment later when Armsmaster arrives.
"At ease," He tells the guards who pull back letting the hero do the talking. "Heavy Gear has been given clearance to enter. Follow me."
We do as he says, and let him take us to one of the hangars.
On the way, I use the chance to ask him something that I have been wondering about since the invitation.
"Be honest with me, Kid Win wasn't supposed to tell me, was he? That's why you got surprised back at the hospital."
"Correct," Is Armsmaster's quick and sharp reply. "Also because I hadn't been informed about it."
Oh--
Damn, that must suck. But isn't he the leader of the Protectorate? Shouldn't he know what the Wards are up to?
I think that Piggot changed that arrangement so she could manage them directly. Renick must have kept it after seeing that Armsmaster wasn't the kind of person that you'd put in charge of a bunch of teenagers.
"But why?" Mouse Protector asks him. "You're the soul of every party!"
Even from here, I can hear the sound of Armsmaster's teeth grinding against each other at Mouse's presence.
"And how's Militia doing?" She continues. "It has been a while since I last saw her. And look! I even brought her favorites!" From a pocket, she pulls out a bag of--
Of M&M's.
Aisha snickers when she looks at it. "Damn, why didn't I think of that?"
I open my mouth to reply but Taylor does it first. "Because it's neither cruel nor unusual?"
"True. I'd have done something like gifting her a scarf with the Confederate flag."
"That was my graduation gift to her!" Mouse says full of pride.
Unconcerned by our conversation, Val points at the bag of candies. "Can I have one?"
Mouse replies by flickering her thumb and sending a piece of candy in Val's direction, which she catches with her mouth.
We continue, and soon enough we're in front of a rolling shutter, one of those that people would open to let forklifts into the hangar. Armsmaster opens it with the press of a button and--
Well--
This brings back memories.
Taped to a wall there's a banner that reads 'happy birthday'. The sound of teenage voices comes mixed with that of energetic music. There's a table with beverages, another one with food, and a third one with gift boxes wrapped in colorful papers.
From a purely mechanical perspective, this looks perfectly fine.
But then you look at the people.
The older Wards look to be doing alright. They are grouped talking about-- I have no idea what. Sports? Movies? Which popular actress is the hottest? Probably a popular topic of conversation when Flechette is part of their group, who currently has Sun's arm around her waist.
"So this is where you were," I greet her. "I wondered what you may have been doing."
Sun nods. "Flechette invited me."
"And we thank her for this wonderful gift!" Clockblocker steps into our conversation with two thumbs up, throwing the girls a glance. I can't see his eyebrows underneath his mask, but the tone of his voice tells me that he's moving them up and down.
"Pig," Flechette snaps at him, rolling her eyes.
"I'll happily oink if it means we can see you kissing again!"
And this has gotten slightly uncomfortable.
But it does give me an opening that I can exploit!
"May I interest you in a new job?" I offer Flechette.
Aegis flinches as he realizes that I'm trying to poach one of his team members but relaxes when she snickers. "As tempting as it would be to be in a team surrounded by beautiful women, I have to decline. I'm happy where I am."
Well, I tried.
And with that done, my attention gets directed to the girl of the day. The other half of the festive equation that tells me that not everything is well around here.
Missy's seated on a chair of her own a bit further away from everyone else. She may have noticed our arrival, but gives no indication of that as she continues browsing her phone.
"So, welcome to the party," she says when I get closer without raising her eyes from the screen. "Glad that you could make it."
I'm not Tattletale, but I'm around 80% sure that she's saying that just to be polite. "Happy to be here. Glad that you-- well, you didn't invite us. But it's still nice to be here."
Missy's scrolling thumb makes a pause before she shrugs. "It's not like I knew that they were arranging this shit. It was as much of a surprise for you as it was for me."
And that's why the other Ward were keeping a safe distance.
Kid Win's robot dog comes along with a tray of beverages on his back. Missy grabs a cup and downs it in a single gulp. "But you're already here so why shouldn't you try to enjoy it?"
Would anyone notice if I hurled myself underneath a table?
"Sorry that we didn't bring you a gift but the invitation surprised us," I tell her, scratching the back of my head. "I did think about gifting you an arm cannon but thought that the PRT would have confiscated it."
"They would have. I was supposed to be the 'cute one' while Stalker was all doom and gloom. Stalker is gone now but they have you so still no weapons for me."
The table with drinks may be across the room but that's no problem for Missy who just folds space to pick another cup.
Can you get drunk on coke?
Maybe sugar.
Something that I'll need to research.
For now, I carefully retreat to where the rest of my team is waiting for me.
"I can already see that this will go great," Taylor comments at my side, her arms folded while she looks at the group of assembled heroes with a small hint of apprehension.
"Tell me about it," Aisha replies. "Why did we come here in the first place?"
Just after she finishes that question, Kid's dog runs past us chased by Val.
"Come doggie! Here, doggie!"
She's on all fours, her body suspended by her mechanical arms.
Didn't I see a scene just like that in Aliens 2?
"Because of that." Taylor points at the playing duo. "Also because dad insisted that we should talk to more people our age."
The robot dashes head-first into a wall only to reveal that he can climb them. Sadly for him, so can Val.
"Oh, yeah," Aisha nods. "I liked it more when I was a single child."
"What about your brother?"
"He doesn't count." She glances at the table full of bite-size foods before turning back to Taylor. "And where's blondy?"
"Told me that she was going to be 'preoccupied' the entire day. Knowing her, she's still playing at being the Illuminati."
"That or it's that time of the month."
"Do you even-- you know what, don't answer that."
"Come on, biological functions are perfectly natural! And also very funny." Aisha punches her chest releasing a sonorous burp.
That manages to get a chuckle out of Taylor, and the two, now more relaxed, walk away so they can keep talking at their leisure.
A pity that Newt isn't here because I could use the company. She told us that she'd be waiting for us back home as there were things that she wanted to do.
Should I have asked her what she wanted to do? If she needed help? I'm here messing around while she's out there being useful.
At least I'm not the only one who's messing around. Mouse Protector is with Armsmaster, poking his sides, and even from here, I can hear his blood boiling.
And about Nia--
"Wait a second-- wait a damn second!" She zeroes into Kid Win who recoils back in fear while he hides something behind his back.
Was that a comic book?
"I saw that!" Nia insists. "Now show it to me!"
"I-- I--" Kid recoils back in fear but stops when Clockblocker puts an arm over his shoulders.
"Come on, girl! Cut him some slack. He only reads it for the plot!"
Next to the both of them, Gallant's forehead enters a steamy and tumultuous relationship with his palm.
"You better do it because I both write and draw for that magazine!" Nia snaps at them.
What?
Wait a moment-- that's one of ours!
I didn't recognize it at first but that magazine belongs to the first compilation of short stories that we printed. And it already reached the hands of one of the Wards? I'll need to ask Taylor and Lisa what marketing magic they performed to spread it like that.
Tits. The answer is most likely tits.
Kid straightens up. "You did? Eh-- which-- one?"
"As if I'm telling you." She snatches the magazine out of his grip, making both him and Clock flinch. "Now tell me, which one was your favorite?" She asks while idly flickering through the pages.
"I--I--"
Clock comes once again to his rescue. "You know, it's generally polite to give your own opinion before asking for someone else's."
I'm not entirely sure that's how it works but Nia seems to agree with that logic. Even if she does snap her tongue in the process. "The one with the fox girl, duh."
"That one?!" Both Kid, Clock, and also Gallant yell at the same time.
"So you did read it!" Nia aims an accusatory finger at this last one.
"M-maybe? I-- liked the drawings?"
Nia shakes her head. "You boys wouldn't recognize art if it hit you in the back of the head. I'll go ask for the opinion of an adult. Maybe Miss Militia."
"No!"
That conversation devolves into a cat-and-mouse chase through the entire room as Nia runs away laughing with the boys on the chase.
Those three have no idea what they just got into.
Well, I'm happy that my team is at least comfortable. Even when I'm reliving my childhood by having no idea what to do during a social event.
Oh, well, if anything this gives me a chance to do something I've wanted to do for a while now.
My feet take me to the snack table and my mind wanders to our fight with the Butcher. The reason for my failure was that I had focused my entire arsenal on overwhelming firepower, assuming that there'd never be a situation that enough force wouldn't be able to solve. I didn't account for scenarios with a target I wouldn't want to kill.
As I munch some potato chips, I think about Aegis.
What is his power? Flight and biological redundancy. He isn't particularly stronger than a normal human but has so many redundancies that even beheading him wouldn't be enough to kill him. If I ever fight someone with that power, I need to fully vaporize their head to kill them or cover them in anti-brute foam to contain them.
With the bag of potato chips empty, I move to the crackers.
The next on my list would be Gallant. His lasers aren't particularly destructive, but they force different emotions on the targets. With good defenses and anti-master devices in place, he's just another human.
The mini-pizzas look nice.
Kid Win has the problem of being a tinker, and therefore unpredictable. That makes it almost impossible to properly plan against him.
Are those shrimps? Who serves shrimps at the birthday party of a 13-years old girl? Probably government agencies that need to spend their morale budget or else they get less money next year. They do look delicious, though.
Clockblocker is a curious case because he's effectively invincible if he sees the attack coming. He just needs to freeze his costume making him impervious to all forms of attack. He still needs to breathe, though, so I'm assuming that his costume has holes, making him vulnerable to airborne substances. Unless he has a supply of oxygen somewhere inside it.
Oh, mini-hot dogs!
And then there's Missy. Maybe one of the most dangerous people here. She has no special defenses or means of attack, but whichever side she's on has full control of the battlefield. Give her time to act and she'll twist space to her leisure, leaving her target trapped. The only way to defend against that is to have early-warning systems and teleporters, but I can't discount the possibility of a tinker helping her mask her activities.
Who else is there? I feel like I'm missing--
So focused I am browsing through my memories that I almost crash into another person who's also going through the snacks table.
They are fairly tall. A head taller than Taylor. Dressed in a trench coat that covers their entire body and wearing a fedora.
That sends all kinds of alarms off inside my head.
Who the fuck wears a trench coat to a little girl's party and doesn't expect people to call the police?
Or the superheroes, as it were.
The person turns around and I'm faced with a single blue glowing eye the size of a baseball that peeks from behind the buttons of the coat.
"Shhhh," the turret tells me, placing one of her legs over the eyes. "Don't tell anyone that we're crashing the party."
"Hey, hey, is there any cheesecake?" The voice of one of her sisters comes from somewhere inside the disguise. "I want cheesecake!"
"I want chocolate!"
"Can't we have McDonald's?"
The four of them -I have no idea how they all fit inside- start arguing amongst themselves and walk away wobbling from side to side.
How did they--?
When--?
I'm not going to question any of that.
What was I doing?
Oh, yeah, picking something to eat. Didn't the turrets say something about cheesecake?
Before I can search for it, a voice interrupts me.
"That's an oxymoron, you know?"
I turn towards its source only to find myself staring into what I think is Newt until I realize that Newt is green and not blue. That's also not skin but tight-fitting spandex. The final clue is that the voice who spoke to me was male.
I look up.
And up.
And just a little bit higher before I finally reach a full-face mask adorned by a diamond on the forehead.
Browbeat. Reverse-Panacea. He can rearrange his mass, heal damage, create counters to toxins that enter his bloodstream on the spot, and enhance his general biology. I swear that I have no idea how he scratches his nose past all those muscles.
I'm also unsure about how I'd go about killing him because I ignore the extent of his upgrades. Would he be able to resist the direct blast of a plasma shot? What about being beheaded? And I have the same problem when considering how to retrain him. Would he be able to create an enzyme that dissolves whatever product that we use to contain him?
Oh, yeah, he did ask me a question.
"What thing?" I reply while munching some tacos.
"Your name. Tech-Priest. It's a figure of speech where two contradictory terms appear in conjunction."
That's a strange way to start a conversation. And I don't even see what he means, what's so wrong about being a priest that worships technology? The AdMech do it perfectly fine.
"You'll have to explain that one to me because I don't see the contradiction." The tacos were alright but I had better. I want something sweet now.
"Technology is the application of scientific knowledge to the practical aims of human life," Browbeat speaks as if reading from a dictionary while he follows me in my search for more snacks. "It's about recognizing the variables and patterns that govern the natural world and controlling them to reach a desired end. In religion, there are no such stable patterns or variables. It's about trusting the arbitrary rules dictated by a higher being without knowing their precise reason or objective."
Damn, did cheese puffs always have these many calories? I could fill a good chunk of my energy reserves with a couple of bags.
But back to Browbeat, his point is understandable. Especially from the perspective of someone who believes that the universe can be understood. I miss the days when I believed that. Nowadays I think that the universe is a screaming mass of chaos and that the only order we can find is that which we can carve out of it.
"Is there such a difference, though?" I ask him back. "The Romans sacrificed animals when building because they had seen that it strengthened their concrete. They just didn't know that it was the iron in the blood that improved their mixture, not the favor of the gods."
And talking about sacrificing animals, maybe some ham and cheese next?
Damn, what's with me today? I already knew that I have no self-control for trash food, but why is it hitting me so badly now? Are those the remnants of my lizard brain latching to the familiar pleasure of greasy food?
"They lacked the information and tools to know better." Browbeat continues with his argument.
"Does it matter? They had seen a pattern, recognized it, and found a reliable way to reproduce the outcome. That's how the scientific method works. Just replace 'chemistry' with 'magic' or whatever you want to call the energy that triggers the process."
"The scientific method is a perpetual cycle that doesn't settle for a singular answer. The concepts of 'faith' and 'gods' exist as means to put the responsibility for our actions and achievements in the hands of someone else. They negate the search for a deeper meaning."
Do you know what I could use right now?
Cheese empanadas!
I miss my country's cooking.
"That I'll agree with," I concede Browbeat's point. "But you're talking about an extreme situation. I'll argue that faith is quite useful and important when used in moderation."
"Why, though? Faith is the strong belief in something regardless of proof or fact. Something tangible is better."
Oh, they have those little sausages covered in dough! I command you to get inside my belly!
"Yes, but take into account that, as of right now, we don't fully comprehend how the universe works. Until we do, we can only have faith that we'll eventually reach that level."
Browbeat makes a pause, placing a finger underneath where I think his nose is.
"I'll need to think further about that. I'll make one last argument, though. The act of worship implies the veneration of a higher being. But technology isn't above us. It was created by and for humans. From that perspective, I say that technology cannot be worshiped."
"What is worship, though?" I ask, putting my now empty bottle of soda down. "The way I see it, people worship something when they feel that the system escapes their control. When they start believing that they can't steer it towards a positive end, their only option left is to beg and hope that someone listens." I punch my chest to get rid of the accumulation of carbon dioxide.
"But we control technology."
"Do we? Tinkers certainly don't." It's slightly embarrassing to admit it, but one just needs to look at anything I build to confirm it. And as far as the world is concerned, tinkers are the leading experts on advanced tech. "The average person doesn't understand how their cell phone works. It just does. Add to that the fact that most companies keep their patents a secret, and people pray whenever their phones malfunction because what else can they do?" I lick the cream from the tip of my fingers. "And don't get me started on printers."
"In that case, all you have to do is call the technician."
"Just like people call the priest whenever they need divine intervention. The technician then tells them a series of rites they need to perform to keep the machines their lives revolve around working. They ask you to respect your devices, be patient with them, and clean them. And don't you dare use third-party accessories if you don't want them to get offended and shut down." I shrug. "The simple fact is that the God of technology was already born. Its parents were necessity and comfort, and the three magi that visited it were obsession, dependance, and laziness."
I knew of a person in my old life who flat-out gave offerings to his desktop printer to make it work, and no one could blame him after the repairmen had failed to keep it working.
The scary part was that freakish thing only seemed to work when he was the one using it.
I'm ready to continue my argument with Browbeat when I'm made aware of a very important fact: our surroundings have gone oddly silent.
I look around and realize that both the Wards and my team are staring at us as if we were circus attractions.
"Oh, no," Clockblocker mutters. "There's two of them now."
Missy responds to that by kicking him on the shins.
Well, this is awkward. Not like Browbeat seems to care, though.
"Thank you for your time, Tech-Priest. I enjoyed our conversation. I hope we can continue it another time."
"Yeah, no problem." I extend a hand towards him, Browbeat looks down at it and then back at me.
"I'd rather not."
I'm about to ask what the problem is when I notice that my hands are covered in a thick layer of grease, Cheeto dust, and other food-related stains. Nothing that my body can't easily break down and assimilate, but at the moment it takes me to wash myself Browbeat turns tail and leaves.
Oh, well, I'm just happy that he got satisfied with our talk. It was nice.
"I should order more food," Aegis says with a hint of despair and resignation. I turn around to point at the table that just a moment ago was full of edibles only to find it empty. It's as if a swarm of locusts had just gone through it.
Is that a bite mark on one of the plastic dishes?
Did-- did I just do that?
How?
When?
And where did all that go? Not to my hips, I hope.
"What's up with you?" Taylor asks me, her words tinkling with concern as she looks down at me.
There's no answer that I can give her. I don't have one myself. I started eating because I wanted to and now all of that is somewhere inside my body being used for who-knows-what.
It's exactly in moments like these when I start praying for a way out of the problems I get myself into.
We head to a nearby table that has some empty chairs waiting for us, and in just a moment both Nia and Val join us. There's a cracking sound when I set my weight on the plastic chair, but by locking my joints in place I manage to keep my posture. I just need to be careful not to move too much to not offset my center of gravity.
"Shouldn't you be looking into that?" Nia asks, giving me a hard look.
"Yeah!" Valerie adds. "Too much candy makes your tummy go pooey!"
And now all four of them are looking at me waiting for an answer.
Shit, I'm not good at admitting when I need medical intervention. I just don't want to unnecessarily worry anyone, and I never like admitting that there's something wrong with me. I was counting on this problem going away on its own and happily pretending it was never an issue.
"I already did," I admit, trying not to shift too much as that'd break the chair. "I don't know what's wrong. I just have been craving food for no apparent reason."
Aisha snickers. "Mysterious craving that you can't explain? That sounds to me like you're--"
"Imp!" Taylor interrupts before Aisha can elaborate, maybe not wanting to hear more about biological functions. Or maybe concerned about me if that happened to be true. This body is shaped like a woman's after all.
Little do they know how wrong they are.
"I'll have you know that I removed every and all biological functions," I tell them, gesturing down at myself. "So, no, this body doesn't have a uterus the same way that it doesn't suffer from a menstrual cycle. Also, shame on you, Imp. You already made a joke like that today."
She releases an over-dramatic gasp placing the back of her hand against her forehead. "You're so right! How shameful! I'll go commit sudoku in atonement!"
Taylor gives her a look. "Do you even know how to spell sudoku?"
"F-u-c-k-y-o-u!"
We break down laughing at that. No matter the place, no matter the situation, a good laugh never fails to improve the mood.
"Is this normal for you?" Missy interrupts, dragging a chair that she sets next to our table. "First he-" she gestures at me, "-eats enough to feet twelve people-"
"It wasn't that much, was it?" I interject, but she continues without listening.
"Then he admits that he cut a piece of himself out, and you just laugh it off?"
I didn't cut them out! I-- kind of melted them away?
Wait, what am I saying? I didn't have those to begin with!
"What can I say?" Taylor replies with a dismissive gesture of her hand. "The idea of not suffering monthly pains is the best argument he has made so far for transhumanism."
Uh? Ok, I need to write this down and use it for later.
I don't think that this is the right moment for that, though.
Missy gives Taylor a long stare before shaking her head. "When I first got my powers I had nightmares of twisting people into things that would make that fucking bitch Bonesaw proud. And this idiot does it for pleasure!"
"Hey!" Valerie yells. "Language!"
"Shut up! I have more than enough of that from the assholes in the PR department!"
Maybe we should all take a step back and take a long, deep, calming breath. Some wild emotions are being thrown back and forth in here. Missy hasn't been the same since Leviathan, and she's still hanging to some heavy baggage.
An adult should talk to her.
Oh, right--
"I will say that it's not out of pleasure that I do this, even if I do enjoy it quite a lot." Damn, I suck at this, don't I?
Thankfully, once again Aisha is there for me. "What crawled up your ass and died, princess?"
A lock of hair falls in front of Missy's mouth which she blows away. "I did! Remember?"
"Oh, big deal. Join the club."
Aisha's words make Missy flinch. "You-- you did?"
"Yup." She nods. "Against the Butcher of all people. It wasn't even a big deal. There was a lot of pain for a moment, then I felt this pressure on my chest, then the pain ended and I told myself 'hey, this isn't so bad, it's kind of peaceful even' and you know what I don't think I want to talk about this anymore."
We were already a shit-show, and the constant dance with death at knife's edge hasn't improved our situation.
Who could have guessed?
We need to hire an on-site psychologist. Or build it! Fingers crossed for Big Heroes 6 so I can build Baymax.
"Didn't you talk to Miss Militia about it?" I ask, remembering our last meeting which ended with Missy talking with the older hero.
Missy shifts her weight on the chair as if fighting against herself to not flee. "I did. She told me how she grew up knowing that every time she looked at the face of one of her companions she couldn't be sure if that would be the last time she saw them. She told me how lucky the Wards are that they don't have to go through that. How they would have been sad if I hadn't returned but, hey, I'm still here. And I can keep coming back as long as you're around."
There's something there that I don't like. Something that rings in my ears and makes me go 'maybe this isn't what you want to tell a traumatized little girl if you want to raise a healthy adult'. But if it works then I won't complain.
"That sounds like a reasonable way to look at it."
"Maybe? It also makes it sound like my death didn't matter."
I raise an eyebrow. "It really doesn't. That was the entire point."
"Then what? Does that mean that no one should care if I die again because you can print another Vista whenever you want?"
This is getting awkward.
And it's not even how my technology works! I think. I haven't even gone through Star Trek yet!
But I suspect that's not going to help me here.
I throw Taylor a look pleading for help. Does she have any suggestions? Any insight that could help us here? The basic way she fixes problems is by drowning them in spiders, but something tells me that won't help us here.
"May I make a suggestion?" Nia offers, raising a hand. She doesn't bother waiting for a reply and kneels next to Missy, coming to be at eye-level with me. "Hey, Vista, I'm Nia, the one who revived you."
As a form of reply, Missy pushes air sonorously out of her nose. "I'm not stupid, you know? I know both who and what you are. Not like I'm going to tell."
She-- she does? How? Maybe it's the fact that I never particularly bothered hiding it.
"Oh, someone needs a good spanking."
"You may try. I fought Hookwolf once, you know? And he--"
Missy gets abruptly silenced when Nia takes her by the shoulders and forces her into a hug, pressing her head against her chest.
I don't know who was more surprised by that. Us, or Missy, who's perfectly still with her arms firmly at the sides of her body as if not knowing how to reply to that.
"You fucking bitch." Well, that's how.
"Technically correct," Nia snickers. "I'm a fox after all."
Missy's fingers twitch, and slowly she reaches for Nia's back, holding her clothes in a firm grip. A moment later she jerks her hands away as if she had set them on a red-hot stove.
"Okay, that's enough. Please let me go."
Nia complies.
"Only because you said please." She smiles, patting Missy's back. "Feeling better?"
"Next time bring a gift." Defiant till the end.
"But we already gave you the gift of life!" Wow, Aisha, really?
To that Missy replies with a single raised finger.
All is well that ends well. We manage to enjoy our time, maybe improve our relationship with the Wards, and help a friend. Yes, what a nice break from day-to-day horrible reality.
I'd even dare say that I had already forgotten all my problems! Neat!
"Hey, Newt? I bring you cake!" I knock at the door that leads to one of our training areas, but there's no reply. Contacting her through the Hive already failed as I was hit with a 'don't disturb' sign. I should have left it there but I'd be lying if I said I'm not concerned. If there's anything that she needs help with, I want to make sure that she gets all she may need.
I raise my fist to knock again but before I can do so the door opens.
Alarms ring inside my ears and the doors at both ends of the corridor instantly lock in place to prevent the flare that hit me from spreading over the base.
I look down at the slice of cake that I brought and find a piece of charcoal in its place.
Oh, well, it was a fruit cake so it's not like anyone will miss it. I just let my body absorb the remains to later turn them into something useful.
Now to the more pressing topic of figuring out why there's a furnace here.
The one who opened the door wasn't Newt but 63. I have a moment of surprise -and just slight panic- when I see him surrounded by flames that could have flash-fried an entire cow in a matter of seconds, but then I'm reminded that he's a zerg. They were designed to survive extreme conditions and to harvest volcanic planets as easily as oceanic ones.
He greets me, and with a wave of one of his pincers gestures for me to follow.
In the center of the room, I find the source of this intense heat. Newt sits there with her legs crossed and her eyes closed. There's a rictus of concentration across her face and a sphere of plasma hovering above her palms.
So this is what she has been up to. How is she keeping her clothes from burning? Not like I'd want them to, of course.
I'm about to leave and let her continue in peace but she must have noticed my presence because one of her eyes cracks open. "Already back? I must have lost track of time." She swipes her hands and the sphere disappears, allowing the room to slowly descend back to a more normal temperature. I offer her a hand and she takes her to get back to her feet. "So, how did it go?"
"Fairly well." I shrug. "But what about you? I see you've been training your fire manipulation." All Blades unlock unique powers when successfully turned into Flesh-Eaters. Newt was originally a frontliner with raw strength and durability, but after her upgrade, she gained dominance over her element that may rival Brighid's or even Pyra's. At least I assume so because I haven't seen her make full use of it yet.
She throws her head back and laughs with her hands at her waist. "Yeah! It caught me by surprise when I did it for the first time but now I'm trying to perfect it." She snaps her fingers and sparks flew off as if she was trying to turn a lighter on. After a couple of tries, she summons the plasma sphere once again. "There we go! Want to give it a try? You should be able to do this, shouldn't you?"
Wouldn't even break a sweat. That's Dragon Ball's specialty after all. According to my power, the way the characters in the show accomplish their multiple feats is through the control of their natural energy. They generate enough bio-electricity to power several cities, and by shaping it -through means that, admittedly, I don't understand- they can superheat and direct it around them. I don't have a biology that can do that, but I can easily replicate the effect by lining my palms with electromagnets and microwave emitters. I just need to feed them enough energy and-- there we go! There's now a ball of plasma floating above my hand, not as hot as Newt's but roughly the same size.
She looks at it and whizzes. "Damn, I wish I could do it that easily. I spent the entire morning working on this."
I flinch and lose concentration, causing the sphere to disappear. Did I offend her? That wasn't my intention. "It's just my power. You can do this on your own while I have an alien supercomputer feeding me all the answers." I cheat. And that's awesome! But not so much when that voids the efforts of the people I care about.
"That's fine," she says as if she wasn't the big deal. "I've been thinking about the battle, you know? That's why I locked myself in here thinking of new ways to fight our enemies. I just sometimes forget that asking for help is an option."
And isn't that something that I understand? "Why don't you, though?" My first instinct is to assume that I'm being a nuisance but I doubt that's Newt's deal.
"Because that's my function in the team. I should be the one coming up with ways to defeat our opponents."
We all have our roles that we must fulfill to take this team to victory. That may be hers, but mine is to provide the others with the tools they may need to fulfill their desires.
"That may be true, but I'm your weaponsmith so remember that whatever you may need, I'll do my best to get it to you. So, please, do ask."
Maybe some gloves that make generating and controlling the sphere of plasma easier? If she has an easier time working in high temperatures then I can build a heater. If she wants to focus on artillery support I could build an energy backpack to boost her powers. The entire thing will need a frame. Armored better.
Now I'm picturing something in my head that resembles a Firebat from starcraft.
"I'll keep it in mind!" She says, patting my back. There was a time when she'd have easily dropped me to the ground with that strength, but since then my systems adapted. "But for now, what I need is a partner to play tennis."
Did I mishear what she just said?
"Tennis? Should I get a racket or-- ouch!"
I look down at my shoulders, and at the burnt mark that's quickly patching up.
On one of the walls, 63 draws a 1 underneath a letter N.
Oh, I see! Does she want to play rough? I can play rough!
We each take our places in opposite corners of the room, and I barely have time to get in position before Newt hurls another ball of plasma. I catch it and throw it back, but my projectile loses cohesion and disperses mid-flight.
No good. The magnetic field I encased it in started falling apart the moment I let go of it.
"Sometimes it happens," Newt says while I work. "You come up with a plan, think it's good, execute it properly, and still fail."
"I know. It's still frustrating, though." Ok, I think I got it. "From what I've been told, that's just how life is. Not like I'd know. I prefer--"
"The models inside your head?"
My lips curl. "Yeah. That's why I spend so much time inside it, where things are predictable."
Take two! I throw my ball at her and this time it reaches its destination before Newt smacks it and sends it speeding towards me.
"Same." Her throw curves in the air and would have hit my midriff if I hadn't jumped back and caught it in my arms. "Have you thought of how to counter The Butcher?"
"Dealing with the teleportation is easy. We just need to remove the eyes. But I don't know if they need eyes to see people's blood or if they can teleport with that."
Now, how do I replicate that effect? With some modification to my electromagnetic emitters, I should be able to control the projectile at range.
"That just means that we have to ambush them with those of us who don't have a circulatory system."
I throw. A straight line. Newt gets ready to intercept it but before she can hit it, the ball breaks to the left and underneath her hands, hitting her waist.
63 draws a 1 underneath a P.
"The next problem is the way they fester wounds," Newt continues, pulling her arm back. "But Nia already took care of that." Her next throw is aimed at the wall. The ball bounces and changes trajectory straight for my head.
I catch it, but when I do the ball explodes in my hands granting her another point. "Their overwhelming strength will soon stop being a problem. The way I'm growing, I'm reasonably sure that the next time we meet I'll be stronger."
How did she manage that effect? Either with a timer or she purposely weakened the integrity of her projectile so I'd explode the moment I squeezed it. Whatever it is, playing defensively isn't an option here.
Newt serves, and this time I reply with a quick jab that sends the ball back at her. She answers in kind and soon we enter a cycle. "And if Nia's with us, we should be able to remove their limbs while ensuring that they don't die of blood loss."
"They may be able to regrow them, but that just means that we need to keep chopping."
"I wonder if they'll be able to do that if we cauterize the wounds," Newt adds with a predatory smile. It's nice to know that we're on the same wavelength.
I manage to surprise Newt by sending my projectile at unnatural angles, and she surprises me by splitting it in half and attacking me from opposite sides.
Soon we enter a rhythm. A push and a pull. An action and a reaction. Slowly a pattern emerges and we both set into our roles, fighting to remain on top but uninterested in keeping the other down. We just want to have fun, and trust that the other wants the same.
"Still, it's scary, you know?" I admit, allowing my body to move with the rhythm we established and letting my mind wander off. "Not the Butcher in particular, but the idea of something unexpected happening again. I'm scared of control slipping out of our fingers."
"Why, though?" She counters. "What are you so scared of? Unpredictability? Weakness?"
The projectile disappeared from the visible spectrum, swirling in a way that bends the light. I knew its speed and trajectory, though, and so when I swipe my hand at where it should be, I hit it.
"Loneliness. I don't like being alone and that's what I believe chaos will bring. That's why I created you all, to counter it."
"And yet you gave us the freedom to leave if we wanted."
Newt spins on the tip of her foot and kicks the ball with all her might. I try to return the ball but the strength behind it is too much and I drop to the floor.
"I don't like people lying to me!" I say while picking myself up. "I prefer someone honestly despising me over them giving me false smiles. That all sounds a bit contradictory, doesn't it?"
"No. It's all fairly straightforward." Newt shrugs before her serve, and soon enough we return to our dance. "Tell me, what do you see in me?"
I'm about to return the ball but the question short-circuits my brain and I end up receiving it with my face.
"What I see as in--?"
"You know what I mean." She grins putting her teeth on display.
It's because of this that I prefer to carry out a conversation in a written form, maybe behind the protection of a screen and maybe with an ocean in the middle.
When using messages I can take my time carefully analyzing what the other person said and curating an appropriate response before sending it. It gives me time to order my chaotic thoughts and plan ahead.
That's an option that I don't have here.
But screw it! I'm good when working under pressure. It's when backed into a corner and robbed of other options but to act when all the noise falls into silence.
I just need to let myself go and not think too hard.
"I see someone who knows herself," I reply, moving my mouth and forcing words out of it. "Someone who knows what she wants and how to achieve it. You understand yourself, your abilities, and your limits. I find that certainty so damn attractive! Sometimes I fear that I spend too much time thinking about what could go wrong to do anything productive."
There! I said it! Now I need to wait for her reply. Did she appreciate what I just said? Did she not? Was there anything that I could have said differently to make it better? It's already too late for that.
Maybe I should have kept my head on the game and not the infinite possibilities. That way I'd have noticed the plasma ball that smashes into my nose.
"And yet you didn't doubt when you told Taylor to burn Winslow down, didn't you?"
"Of course not!" My voice comes out in a high pitch while my nose rebuilds itself. "That place-- it wasn't a school, barely even a building. It was a cesspit of pain and misery, and I fully believe that we did the morally right thing when we turned it into ashes!" What was even the point of allowing its existence? As long as it remained functioning Taylor would continue suffering. "But that's the thing, I don't believe that there was a choice there. How could it be when the alternative was allowing Taylor to go back?"
When the alternative to a decision is death (or something so similar to it that the differences can be disregarded) there's no decision to be made. Any conceivable outcome would have been better.
Newt fidgets with her fingers while she readies for her serve. "If I had been there I'd have advised against that. Not only out of respect for Taylor's choice but also because you were still too small and the risk of discovery was too big. Heck, that incident was what put the PRT on your trail."
The ball comes at me at full speed, but this time I'm focused and easily hit it back.
Newt talks about Taylor's choice. It may be thoughtless of me to say it, but was she in a position to make an informed decision? Winslow was a parasite that had cast a shadow over her life, robbing her of hope the same way a leech feeds on blood. Friends don't let friends self-destruct.
Still, from a purely utilitarian perspective, I see where Newt's coming from. We took a huge risk motivated by chance and strong emotions. We could have easily waited just another week and come up with a better plan. At the very least we'd have been able to hide our traces better.
"Do you think we did the wrong thing?"
"No. You and I simply value different things. You focused on Taylor's well-being while I'd have focused on the team as a whole. I try to be objective with everything I do."
I hurl the ball, Newt turns sideways and hits it with her hip. My mind goes blank and I barely register when she scores yet another point.
Now that was plain unfair!
How many of those do we-- holy! She's 18 and I'm just 11. And where did 63 get those flags that he's swinging?
I think this has gone on for long enough. It's not like I have a counter to Newt's latest strategy after all.
"Same," I reply walking to 63 who looks a bit disappointed that the game is over. "But then I get angry or don't properly analyze the situation and end up doing something stupid. I'm scared of doing something that may end up harming any of you."
"Would you ever do it willingly?"
"No!" I snap at her. The idea of ever doing anything that hurts them by accident already fills me with dread. Doing it on purpose? No. Never. The very concept is so repulsive that I can't even properly picture it in my head. "I swear I'd forever give up on tinkering before betraying your trust. It wouldn't even be a hard choice." They are my people, the ones I chose to stand alongside with. Everything I do is to be able to enjoy moments like these with them.
Newt looks at me and smiles. "And that's why I'm here, and why I wouldn't doubt risking my life to help you because I know you'd do the same for me."
As if that'd ever be in question. "Without a moment of doubt."
She gives 63 a look. That seems to be an arranged signal because he darts into the tunnels behind the walls. A moment later he emerges balancing a tray on his head where he carries a bottle of vodka and two glasses.
"I didn't know you have a stash of this stuff," I say while Newt pours two shots.
"There are some things that you have yet to know about me. I may help you find out."
I'd like that. I'd like that a lot.
Newt takes one glass. "Can you even drink one of these?"
"I can." I take the second one. "Maybe I shouldn't because I'm still legally underaged but it's not like any of us care too much about following the law." Danny would get a heart attack if he saw drinking this. Can I be affected by this stuff? Even if I can't, I should be able to taste it, and with some tweaking to my systems, I should be able to replicate the effects of inebriation. "I was never a big drinker in my previous life, though."
"Because you didn't like it or because you didn't have the proper company?"
I smirk at her. "Let's find out, shall we?" Here goes nothing. "Cheers," I say, raising my glass.
"Cheers," Newt replies in kind.
And just a moment after the toast--
My phone starts ringing.
For the love of--
"Yes?" I need to fight against myself to not shatter the glass in my grip.
"Oh, thanks Lord you're still there!"
This isn't a voice I want to hear right now. "What do you need, Lisa?"
"Listen! I forgot! I assumed you knew but then I remembered 'oh, yeah, this guy isn't from around here' so of course you wouldn't know."
Ok--
She's rambling. And I'm not happy with any of the words that she's saying.
"Lisa? You're scaring me here. What is it?"
"The moon phases! How did you figure them out?"
Is this about my transformation? Supposedly the first time a Garu goes through it is fairly chaotic, but I should have another week before I need to worry about it.
"I got a calendar from my power." Who could have said that a power derived from a universe where the moon is a big deal could come with one of those?
"Oh, no. Oh, nonono! Listen, Earth Bet is in another world! Your power is either based on your original world or the one you got your powers from! Because of Sphere, the Simurg, and then String Theory, the phases of the moon got changed! The full moon isn't next week, it's today!"
Oh--
Well, that explains a lot of what I've been going through!
I better go build a Saiyan-grade cage.
…
- Location
- Here
Wait, HOW young is he/she/they!?
...Oh.
OH, that's their current score!
Never mind, just had a REALLY strange mental image there for a moment.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
They're gonna need either a very sharp sword, or a ridiculously oversized pair of scissors.
Also, not giant monkey. Big Woof.
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Just don't look up
The current specialization is DB, he's been exhibiting 'sayan appetite' and he has mentioned 'sayan grade cages'. I think it's been hybridized already.
The current specialization is DB, he's been exhibiting 'sayan appetite' and he has mentioned 'sayan grade cages'. I think it's been hybridized already.
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- Location
- Spain
He isn't a Saiyan. He is a World of Darkness Werewolf. At least that's how I remember it.
Peter directly mentions Garu transformation.
So I'm pretty confident when I say werewolf.
Of course, if I end up being wrong, feel free to tell me 'I told you so.'
"I am
This so far is one of my favorite chapters, I loved the dialogue between Browbeat and HellWan.
Ridli Scott
(Verified acid sweater mutant)
- Location
- The Periphery
By the love of Urbanmech Jesus... tell me you haven't installed Window Vista on Peter's body firmware.
The shame Poli! you are a shipper! Enjoy the moment!!
Didn't know Val was a grab bad, because that counts as a power to me.
I think this is the longer I saw this character speak in a fic. BY A LONG MARGIN.
For when for the olympics?
Well, we know now where all that food is going to end.
Wait, what? While I'm glad Peter is finally going to figure out what's going on, when did any of this happen? No one has ever attacked the moon in Worm, threatened to, yes, but no one has actually hit the moon and changed it's orbit. Was this an AU detail I missed somewhere?
Im canon the Undersiders attack the Forsberg gallery on May 5 2011. May 3 is a new moon, but in Tangle 6.8 Taylor refers to the "faint light of the moon above". So the moon phases must be different on Bet than on our world.
Of course, the likely explanation is that Wildbow just didn't look it up.