Fullofholes
Riddled with bullets
I did not think that Anders had any purity left at all... Surprising.
In Nuclear Fire
- Thread starter Poliamida
- Start date
Poliamida
(Verified Heavy Molecule)
- Location
- Beyond the Stars
That will deffinitely be a good way to relax after a long day of work.
I'm so looking forwards to the S9 section because there's a lot that will be done and revealed during that mess.
Being perfectly honest I may have pushed my own viewpoint there and being a bit heavy handed with it. I wasn't calling anyone out in particular but at all the media that portrayts a person or event in a nicer light than it really was. Looking at you AC Valhalla.
Raiseth
I Find Your Lack of Memes Disturbing
- Location
- Russia
Ah, Valhalla.
Honestly, I'd feel a lot better about these historical games if they had you face and overcome the casual bigotry, backhanded praise and bouts of paternalistic pity for a woman in 'such a position', instead of a random changed remark in the dialogues.
There's being inclusive and then there's whitewashing. I mean, everyone's life sucks now and then, but for most of the history women were considered to be property. Much, much suckier than average. Any exception from that rule was just that, an exception. Overcoming that, now that's what I would call a proper power fantasy worth getting invested in.
Anyways.
Peter is changing specialties soon, and while I may or may not have some ideas about what he's getting next, that won't stop me from suggesting ridiculous ideas.
Like, how about
Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann! Pathfinder-chan is acting like a cargo cultist now, imagine what it will be like when it faces the universe where humans broke through Kardashev Scale by being hotblooded shonen protagonists.
Honestly, I'd feel a lot better about these historical games if they had you face and overcome the casual bigotry, backhanded praise and bouts of paternalistic pity for a woman in 'such a position', instead of a random changed remark in the dialogues.
There's being inclusive and then there's whitewashing. I mean, everyone's life sucks now and then, but for most of the history women were considered to be property. Much, much suckier than average. Any exception from that rule was just that, an exception. Overcoming that, now that's what I would call a proper power fantasy worth getting invested in.
Anyways.
Peter is changing specialties soon, and while I may or may not have some ideas about what he's getting next, that won't stop me from suggesting ridiculous ideas.
Like, how about
Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann! Pathfinder-chan is acting like a cargo cultist now, imagine what it will be like when it faces the universe where humans broke through Kardashev Scale by being hotblooded shonen protagonists.
- Location
- Auckland
Actually, I thought that the OP was referring to the Hagar The Horrible newspaper strip...
Ridli Scott
(Verified acid sweater mutant)
- Location
- The Periphery
Or an awesome final touch to a date... just saying. After all, everyone could bring their date to a nice place but how many could bring their date to a place without gravity?
Surely it isn't bringing your loved one the Moon, but it's close.
So he had access to the technology side of Dragon Ball and he didn't make any Androids as powerful as 17 and 18 to protect the Earth from you know the end Bringers? Out of any technology I would have taken the stuff that could turn normal human beings into beings Superior to a first level Super Saiyan. So the capsule technology is a good second.
Ridli Scott
(Verified acid sweater mutant)
- Location
- The Periphery
Well... Peter made a 16 with Sun, but 17 and 18 are... well they were humans so it's a necessity to have willing humans to turn into them.
He basically turned Vicky into a Saiyan didn't he?
Plus he has all of that bio-modification tech and biology-adjacent technology pre-made; he can probably do something like the opposite of biomimicry to upgrade peoples bodies. He could probably even apply the Big Gete Star chip to bio-engineering or tissue-engineering, instead of regular engineering, to do the job as well. He's got a few options to do that in the future.
Ridli Scott
(Verified acid sweater mutant)
- Location
- The Periphery
No he didn't do that, he presented the plans but nothing was made yet on that regard
Poliamida
(Verified Heavy Molecule)
- Location
- Beyond the Stars
When Peter upgraded Sun with Gero's technology he mentioned that Gero's infinite energy generator needs time to ramp-up. The more you use it the highter its output. That's my justification on why the androids could become stronger through training. The problem is that he can't just snap his fingers and create something on the level of a Super Saiyan, it needs time. Sun as she's right now has the potential to become as strong as the canon Androids but she will need time.
And the reason why he didn't save the tech to turn humans into them is because he really doesn't need it. As he's right now he's more technologically advanced and has a potentially higher ceiling. He has the means to create an army of cyborgs but has no interest on doing so because the only people he'd offer the option (Taylor and Aisha) aren't that attracted to the idea.
Ah I see...Eh he integrated Saiyan DNA into Zerg Essence (which may be some DNA equivalent alternate molecule) so he should still have that for future projects.
Drone
Won? You entered a contest or something?I'm finishing the next chapter, I'm just a bit busy at the moment doing homework for Uni. In the meantime I share something with you that I won the other day:
MangoFlan
Cold... I feel cold...
It might be a raffle. I hear some artists do that every month or something.
Ridli Scott
(Verified acid sweater mutant)
- Location
- The Periphery
Isn't cute the little boy?
Ridli Scott
(Verified acid sweater mutant)
- Location
- The Periphery
How? It's the most predominant feature!
Nuclear Fire 83
Poliamida
(Verified Heavy Molecule)
- Location
- Beyond the Stars
Nuclear Fire 83
Many people like to say that crime doesn't pay.
Those that do just delude themselves. Because crime pays. It pays a lot. Far more than regular jobs do, even. The question then becomes if those involved in such a business can make a profit out of it once they factor in all its potential costs and risks.
As with most things in life, crime ends up being a balancing act between rewards and punishments.
What brings all these thoughts to my mind? I'd blame the sight of Purity's house for it.
Under the light of the moon and the stars, this house paints a picture like the ones I only saw on the covers of magazines.
It rests atop a small hill to the south of Brockton Bay, past the rich part of it, and a stone's throw away from the sea.
I'm surprised that it wasn't destroyed during Leviathan's attack, even if some damage is evident in the gardens surrounding it.
If you were to exit through the back door your feet would sink into the sand.
It's also fairly isolated. The closest neighbor is some couple minutes away on foot, past another small hill, and to reach them you'd have to cross a thin wall of trees. You could kill someone in here and no one would even hear the screams. Something that, I assume, worked against its owners on this particular occasion.
Crossing an iron fence we get access to the gardens, a cobbled path leading us to the two-stories building with rooms that are each bigger than Taylor's former house. The dining room has glazed walls that allow an unobstructed view of the ocean, and the garage has enough space for four cars. In total there are four bedrooms in this house. The two on the ground floor are almost identical and very spartan. The clothes in the closets tell me that they belong to women, and the secret compartment in the back that contains Valkyrie armors suggests that they are Fenja's and Menja's.
One of the rooms on the top floor belongs to a boy, likely Theo, and the last one is the master bedroom where an empty crib is located.
A quick scan reveals that the lock of the front door is broken, but surprisingly there are no signs of anything that I could recognize as a struggle. There are no broken pieces of furniture or shattered glass. If Purity was, in fact, kidnapped, the perpetrator did it without opposition.
The scanners also reveal a second thing. A single person inside. Our gracious host.
"How could this have happened?" Nia asks through clenched teeth as we approach. "No one should be able to disappear from this city without us knowing, right?"
Taylor is the one to answer.
"As part of the deal that allowed us to keep operating the Hive without interference, we agreed to keep it confined to the limits of Brockton Bay. Kayden's place is just outside the border of our grid."
"And how the heck did they know that?"
"The same way that freaking Kaiser did!" Lisa yells into our coms, sounding very angry with her break having been interrupted. She remains back at the base, looking at everything through our personal cameras. "The PRT has more leaks than a fucking strainer!"
And isn't that a kicker? Something that we all already knew if we're to be honest but it's annoying now that we're finally being confronted with it. What a headache.
Whoever did this -likely the Fallen even if that remains to be confirmed- knew how to hit the Bay in a way we wouldn't be able to respond.
When we get to the front door, Taylor stops. "Is he truly alone?"
So say my sensors, and I almost feel insulted that she'd doubt them, but better to be safe than sorry. That's where our wannabe psyker gets involved.
"He is," Lisa replies. "He was hurt and doesn't want to appear weak in front of others. The only reason why he called us is because he believes he can trust us based on self-interest."
Ah, self-interest. The only power that can rival The Force in keeping the universe together.
"I didn't think that Purity's disappearance would have affected him this much."
"Don't get sympathetic, honey. It didn't. He doesn't care about his ex but does care that his property may get damaged."
Figures.
Taylor goes still, and even if I can't see them I'm sure that there are some bugs around us getting very nervous right now.
Without bothering to knock, she steps inside.
I'm right behind her, with Nia and Newt taking the rear guard.
"Ah, Heavy Gear!" Anders greets us, rising from the couch he was sitting on. "I'm so grateful for your timely arrival. My nerves have been completely destroyed because of this!" So he says but not even a hair of his head is out of place.
"And yet you didn't bother to call the police," Taylor counters. "Or the PRT."
"Come on, Ladybug, both you and I know how inefficient the Police can be." He smiles in a way that could almost be considered charming. "And the PRT wouldn't have involved themselves with this because there's no evidence of parahuman involvement."
If anyone else had said it, it'd have sounded logical. Reasonable, even. But, well--
"He wants to use us as a show of strength. Tell the world that even if his empire may be gone he still has the strongest parahuman team of Brockton Bay at his beck and call. And as much as I enjoy being considered one of the strongest capes around, being under the command of a sociopathic asshole isn't one of the things I miss from my time under Coil."
At the risk of repeating myself: figures.
"And what evidence do you have that this was a kidnapping?"
Anders opens his mouth to reply, but before he can do so my sensors alert me of a sudden arrival.
What is she doing here?! And who is that second signal?
Taylor receives the alert at the same time I do, and her head turns towards the balcony that overlooks the beach.
Noticing our reaction, Anders turns towards it too, taking a step back to make sure that Taylor is the one closest to it. From a collar that he carries around his neck, and hidden from view by his shirt and jacket, a sheet of metal starts spreading across his chest protecting his vital areas.
There's no reason for alarm, though. At least not for us. For him, though? I'm not sure and I don't care.
Vicky lands on the balcony, the wooden beams underneath her cracking with the impact. In her arms, she carries a chubby boy that at first glance I fail to recognize as I don't have his signature saved.
"Father!" Who I now recognize as Theo says as he jumps off Victoria's arms. "I came as soon as you told me!"
"My boy! I'm so happy that you came!" The man raises a hand and Theo stops on a dime, then flinches when Anders puts it on his shoulder. Anders turns towards Vicky and smiles. "And why didn't you tell me that you had become acquainted with Victoria Dallon?"
Why does he have to make that sound so incredibly uncomfortable?
"Cut the crap, asshole," Vicky snaps at him, "and just tell us why you called Theo in the middle of the night." She then turns towards Taylor. "Ladybug."
"Victoria," she replies. "So far I haven't heard anything that convinced me that Kayden didn't leave of her own volition."
Ander's reply is a chuckle. "I'd have allowed that if that was the case. I always gave her the freedom to pursue her interests. But she wouldn't have gone off the grid in such a way while also taking our daughter with her."
That last piece of information makes Theo recoil back as if he had been punched. "Aster is gone too?! You didn't tell me that!"
"Well, I'm telling you now," Anders continues with the same voice someone asks the time. "Maybe if you had been here--"
"Stop talking in circles!" Vicky interrupts before he can finish that sentence. "Tell us what happened."
She hovers above the ground, taller than any of us. Her terror field is in full effect and I can see the muscles of Ander's neck tensing as he struggles to keep his composure.
"Very well," he says, straightening up. "Every night at the same time she calls me to tell me how her day was."
"Lie." Lisa quickly intervenes. "He's the one who calls. And he calls either Fenja or Menja because he doesn't trust Purity to give him an objective summary of their operations."
"Why the lie?" Taylor asks her in our private channel. "Is he trying to distract us from something?"
"No sure. I think he just prefers his version better."
He continues. "Imagine my surprise when, last night, she didn't do it. I didn't think too hard about it at first, but when neither she nor her assistants answered the phone I got worried and decided to drive here to check on them. When I found the house empty I decided to call you. Heavy Gear because I trust their judgment, and my son because he deserves to know."
"He's telling the truth, except for the parts where he pretends to be a worried ex-husband. Someone stole what's his and that's what's pissing him off."
"You still haven't told us why she simply didn't get tired of you and left," Taylor presses on.
It's Theo the one who answers. "She wouldn't. Not without telling me. And--" He doesn't finish his phrase. He darts towards one of the wardrobes, opens it, and starts browsing inside.
"What are you doing?" Vicky asks him, floating closer.
It only takes him a moment longer to find what he has been looking for. A CD, its case painted with cartoon animals.
"This is Aster's favorite," Theo explains, holding the music CD like a newborn. "Whenever she has trouble sleeping, Kayden puts it on for her. They wouldn't have gone anywhere without it."
"So, there you have it." Anders walks towards Theo and tries once again to place a hand on his shoulder, but Theo sidesteps it, drawing closer to Vicky. Anders throws him a look but doesn't say anything. "My family is missing. Someone took them from me and I want them back. I dread to think what my baby daughter is going through right now."
Now that's just saccharine.
"Be careful. He's trying to appeal to your--"
"We'll do it."
"Remember what I told you about sociopathic assholes? I wouldn't mind you being slightly more ruthless. Just a tiny bit."
Taylor takes a decisive step forwards, aiming an index at the man. "We will tell the PRT about this. And let me make it perfectly clear that I don't care about you or your ex-wife." From the sidelines, Theo flinches at that last declaration but remains quiet. "But whoever is behind this, I'm not leaving a baby in their hands."
Anders keeps his eyes level, refusing to avert them. "Do what you believe is best."
I hope so much that this doesn't end like in canon.
After that last exchange, Taylor spins on her heels and gestures at us outside. None of us bothers with a goodbye.
Before we can reach the road outside, a voice stops us. It's Vicky, who once again has Theo in her arms. The boy looks embarrassed but not all that annoyed by the setup.
"Hey, whatever you find, keep us informed too, alright?"
"We will."
With Taylor's promise made, the two of them disappear into the night sky.
We continue walking for a while longer in complete silence that Taylor only breaks once we make sure that we're alone.
"Imp?"
In front of us, Aisha materialized from thin air holding what I believe is Menja's helmet. "Look at what I found! Sadly I didn't find anything else of interest. No drugs, no weapons, no nothing."
"Pity. What about you, Tech-Priest?"
"I have a full scan of the surroundings," I confirm. "But I didn't find anything either. There were no tunnels or tinkertech around."
"And you, Tattletale?"
"I'm sure that something bad happened there, but there are no signs of struggle. If someone had managed to get the baby first Purity would have surrendered, but the twins wouldn't have. They'd have also alerted Kaiser if Purity had left on her own. I suspect they were somehow paralyzed before being taken. A master could have done that with enough preparation."
When putting all this evidence together, we reach the conclusion that we know jack shit.
Fucking hell.
This could be a real pain in the--
Oh-- boy-- why do I feel so dizzy?
I stumble, but thankfully Taylor is there to catch me. "Tech-Priest! Are you alright?"
The moment of confusion passes and I'm back on my feet in a moment. "I am. It's just that the clock just hit midnight."
With all the excitement of the last couple of hours, I completely forgot that the switch was just around the corner. Usually, I have time to prepare for it, but this time it flew right over my head.
Not like that's a big deal.
Now, what do I have here? I see chains. Many chains. Oh, my lord, why are there so many chains?
Wait, I know what this is!
"What the heck am I supposed to do with this?!" I yell out unconcerned by the looks aimed in my direction.
This one is tricky. But if I'm right-- if this works--
This could be massive.
It could fail. Equally massively. But if it doesn't--
Screw it! I'm doing it! But I can't do it alone. I'll need specialized help.
"Newt! Nia!" I call them. "Get ready because we aren't sleeping tonight!"
Taylor straightens up.
Aisha breaks down in laughter.
Newt gives me an apologetic smile.
Nia grins from ear to ear.
I need to work on better phrasing.
If you want a good sword, you can't simply cast it.
You'd be forgiven for thinking that you can. At first glance, a sword is a homogeneous substance shaped into a specific form to fulfill a given purpose. There shouldn't be much difference between a sword and a kitchen knife, and those are produced en masse. You just grab the material it's made of, heat it until it becomes a liquid, and pour it inside a mold. Easy peasy.
But doing this, even if it would be easy and efficient, wouldn't be effective.
It would be a sword, just not the best sword it could be.
Here is the thing. Looking at the finished product as a sharpened piece of metal misses several of the deeper intricacies involved in blacksmithing.
First, you need to be extremely careful during the melting process if you don't want a brittle product. Bronze swords can be cast without major issues, but steel ones are far more delicate in that regard.
Second, swords are more akin to machines than people give them credit for. They are composed of a wedge that bites into the target, a lever that imparts force, and a shock absorber that allows it to keep its form after each blow. All these parts are welded together before being literally hammered into place during the forging process.
Casting a sword would be akin to grabbing a TV, grinding it into fine dust, and then gluing the particles together into the shape of a screen expecting it to work. Yes, you'd have all the components that make a TV in there in the general shape of a TV, but you need them to be precisely distributed to accomplish anything.
At the very least I hope that this is the case.
All I know of blacksmithing right now comes from my shard so the chances that I'm talking out of my ass are relatively high. It sounds logical, at the very least.
Still, there's something else here. Something far more basic and primal.
A mold suggests that you know what your destination is. You already saw the object, know what it is and what function it has to fulfill. You then use that latent image to shape the mold you'll use to reproduce it.
Right now, my power and I have no freaking idea what we are doing. We're basically clobbering together rocks waiting for the spark that we'll then use to build a jet engine.
Contessa could do it. Not like I'm jealous or anything.
This means that, to my great horror, I need to try without the certainty of success. Venture forth without a map or a clear destination in mind beyond the details that some faint memories can provide.
It's absolutely terrifying.
This better not become a habit, do you hear me, shard?
To make it all worse, on a complete whim my power decided that it'd be nice to go full unga-bunga and that a hammer and an anvil would be our way to move onwards.
Where are the plasma ovens? The sonic cutters? The freaking electronics?! There isn't even the faintest glimpse of a circuit in here!
There is a lot of smoke, though. And other noxious gasses that would have already killed me if I still needed to breathe oxygen.
Also, instead of being slaved to a computer writing lives of code for my assemblers to produce the finished product, I'm waiting next to a crucible for the alloys to finish heating up.
Not how I grew accustomed to doing things, but I'd be lying if I said that this entire setup doesn't have a certain archaic charm to it.
The glow of the molten metal. The soot covering my hair. The heat of the furnace washing against my face.
I'll need a thorough bath after this. Not to clean myself up because my body is crease and stains-proof, but just to enjoy a moment of relaxation.
Still, the sight makes me want to sing that old song. How did it go again?
As I tap my foot against the ground I humm the lyrics.
Mind receptors witness glory from the burning of the flame
The fires of the forge are like the trumpets which proclaim
Our engines at full power, your destruction is our aim
Our Truth has come online!
Very appropriate considering what I'm crafting.
"Yeah! That's what I was talking about!"
Nia's words violently pull me away from my inner musings.
Seems that I made a slight miscalculation because at some point I had stopped humming the melody and started singing it.
That was embarrassing.
Not the part of them hearing me sing, I'm okay with that, but the part of me doing something without a conscious decision. I let my emotions take over and guide me while my brain took a back seat.
That's an error. A mistake I don't want to be subject to. It leads to me doing or saying things that I later regret.
But it's okay. Nothing bad happened. At least not now.
"Don't tease him," Newt scolds Nia even if her grin tells me that she, too, finds the situation amusing. "So, Peter, are the ingots ready?"
I glance into the crucibles. "They are."
There are three of them, one for each section of the sword, composed of different alloys and heated at different temperatures. Their core is steel, but there's also titanium, magnesium, neodymium, and another couple dozen metals and rare earths. Even dashes of silver and gold to give the finished product its distinctive color.
I pull the first ingot out. Not with pincers or any other tool but with my naked hands. I don't need anything else.
"Newt! Nia! This is the most delicate part so get ready."
They nod, Newt standing to my right and Nia to my left. They'll make sure to keep the temperature just as I need it.
My power may have refused my attempts at adding Zerg Neo-Steel to the mixture, insisting that Earthbound substances were enough, but at least it didn't complain when I created an anvil out of it. After all, that's the only material in my arsenal hard enough to withstand what will happen next.
With the ingot in position, I bring my closed fist down on it. Hard. There's a heavy 'clank' and a shower of sparks as the metal bends under the pressure.
"Newt, more heat! Too much! Nia, bring it down a notch! Perfect!"
Hit after hit the core of this sword slowly starts taking shape. I don't need further tools. My hands are good enough. No hammer I could have created would have survived what I'm about to put it through. This alloy, despite being made of elements found on Earth, is far stranger than anything currently known to man.
It must be solid, strong, and heavy. When I swing, with my feet firmly anchored to the ground, the strength of the impact will be carried through its length.
While the girls keep a firm control of the temperature, I pull the second ingot and add it to the core. This is the elastic one. The one that will cushion the impact, allowing the rest of the weapon to keep its shape hit after hit. Then I add what will become the edge.
The anvil cracks. Neo-Steel, the material that Marine armor is made of, didn't survive the punishment.
That's fine because I did think ahead and that's why I have a second one, and even a third just in case!
You can never be too careful with stuff like this.
My work continues, this beast slowly taking shape. The metallic handle. The crossguard, which looks like a screaming face surrounded by the sun. On top of it, the figures of three men raising their arms as in prayer. And then the blade itself, two prongs that surge from the crossguard and then meet again at the tip.
When taken at its full length, this sword is taller than me. And yet surprisingly light.
Almost done.
"Nia, do the thing!"
She extends her arms and then brings them closer to her chest. In that movement, she summons a sphere of pure, crystalline water that hovers above the ground.
I plunge the red-hot sword in.
There's a hissing sound. The transparent sphere turns gray, and the steam bubbles threaten to collapse it. Before they can do it, though, I pull the now tempered sword out.
It's ready.
The red and yellow shades of the forge have given way to a blade of gold and silver. And if I force some electricity into it--
There!
An electric arc forms between the crossguard and the tip of the blade. What purpose that fulfills, I'm not entirely sure. But it looks cool.
"What does it do?" Newt asks looking over my shoulder.
I could tell her, but why do that when I can show her? "Bring me something I can cut."
She dashes out not needing further instructions and in just a moment she's carrying on her shoulder a piece of log wider than a truck wheel.
Then she hurls it at me.
That's a bit of a surprise but I can't be mad at her. If she hadn't done that, I'd have asked her to. And I like that she's as excited about this as I am.
Let's do this!
I set my feet on the ground, clench my teeth, and swing at the log as it flies above my head.
They meet.
There's a heavy 'tump'.
And then I'm pushed back as the log gets stuck to the blade which it failed to cut, stopping only half ways through.
The fuck?
I swing it around trying to dislodge it but it remains firmly in place. The only thing I accomplish is to be further pushed off-balance.
Newton may be the deadliest son-of-a-bitch in space, but here on Earth that's Archimedes, and if a fulcrum and a lever can move the planet, they can move me too.
I need to let the sword fall to the ground so I can push with my foot before I can set it free.
That was a disappointment.
"Was that supposed to happen?" Newt asks in concern, maybe noticing how I'm staring at this chunk of metal as if it had personally insulted me and my entire family.
"It wasn't." I don't even bother to hide the bitterness in my voice. I should have been expecting this. I saw my power fail when it tried to replicate the potaras but I hoped that maybe, just maybe, this would be different. This is why excitement and hope are such insidious poisons. "This is the Blade of Olympus!" I yell at the top of my lungs. "This is the sword that allowed that asshole Zeus to put an end to the Titanomakhia! The one that Kratos used to then kill him! This is a god-killer. This is the kind of weapon that I should be able to point at Zion and make him pop like a balloon! But it's just a chunk of metal."
Nia approaches, pulls out a strand of her hair and lets it fall on the blade. There's no resistance as the strand splits in two. "A very sharp chunk of metal."
"But it should be so much more!"
The edge has been sharpened to a mono-molecular width. The alloys are a perfectly balanced combination of materials beyond human knowledge. Its mechanical properties are the stuff of a weabo's wildest fantasies.
But that's it.
I already have a Protoss Psy Blade and Sakura's Sword. The Blade of Olympus should make those two look like toothpicks by comparison! This is something that should rival Gilgamesh's Ea!
I think.
Maybe?
Fate lore is weird.
In any case, what I just crafted is good.
Excellent even.
But I was aiming to create something godlike!
What's going on? God of War isn't even the first 'magical' tree that my power has given me. Sakura was first. But back then my power managed to translate the Clow Cards into something I could work with and understand! Why am I having all these problems now?
Is it me?
This all started with my transformation. Did I somehow damage my power? What else could it be? What error did I overlook?
This is puberty all over again!
"Let's take a step back and retrace our steps," Newt suggests. "Maybe that way we'll find out what went wrong."
"Yeah!" Nia adds. "It's weird because you never had performance issues before."
"Say that again and I'll use the super-sharp blade to shave you," I snap at her.
"You may try but I can give as much as I take."
The corner of my lip cracks into a smile.
As fun as the image of a bald Nia is, that isn't enough to lift my spirit.
Is this it? Is my power unable to replicate mystical objects and so I have to settle for these cheap knock-offs?
I'm not eager to give up just yet. Let's try what Newt suggested and think about this step by step.
"As I remember it, Zeus created the Blade from pieces of the great Greek realms. Heaven and Earth if I'm not mistaken. Then he infused it with godly power to activate it."
I walk back and forth trying to think through this problem.
Do all the metals and rare earths count as 'pieces from the realm of the Earth'? If so, where am I getting pieces from heaven? Should I go grab some moon rocks to add to this?
And where do I get godly power? Would an Egon-Ether generator be enough? I'd need to miniaturize it. Or turn it into a backpack and plug it into the Blade with wires.
"What about the Oceans?"
I stop on a dime, turning to look at Newt. "The what?"
"The Oceans," she repeats. "When Poseidon, Zeus, and Hades split the world, Poseidon kept the Realm of the Ocean. Yes, I did read the Iliad."
Next to her, Nia folds her arms while puffing her cheeks. "You don't need to rub it on my face."
So there are three realms, not two. At least if we go for proper Mythology? Unless I'm misremembering, the game only mentioned Heaven and Earth. Should I go with what the game said or with the stories it was based on?
That doesn't fix the main problem, though. Where the heck am I getting pieces of these realms?
While thinking about it, Nia walks up to the Blade of Olympus, picks it up--
And it lights up. A blue aura surrounds the Blade as if it was a cold mist.
"What are you doing?" I ask her, taken aback.
Nia doesn't answer immediately. She just keeps staring at it, her eyes narrowed in concentration. The light reaches a crescendo, and then it dies as if it was a burnt-out light bulb.
She shakes her head and sets it aside.
"Well, I'm the greatest water-controller around, and I thought that'd make me the closest thing to a Mistress of the Oceans. But it wasn't enough." The disappointment is clear in her tone. Was she hoping to be the key to solving this puzzle? To hold the Blade of Olympus high up and order creation to tremble?
I understand her feelings all too well.
But not all is lost! The Blade reacted! That means that we are on the right path.
Oceans. Earth. Heavens.
Nia's hydrokinesis managed to activate a portion of the Blade's power but, as she said, it wasn't enough. But then, what can I use? Who on Earth Bet is stronger than--
There is--
Or better said, was--
One being.
Could it be?
I rush to a corner of my workshop where I have my storage. It's in there where I keep all the equipment that I don't currently use. Either because I don't currently need it, I'm saving it because I want to recycle it later, or because I don't want to risk it being stolen out there.
I will need to build a proper armory later. Even more so if this works.
"What are you looking for?" Newt asks me.
Turning around, I show you what I'm holding.
The Sword.
The weapon that killed Leviathan.
It should be more appropriate to say that this was only one part of said weapon, a combination of Armsmaster's Halberd and Flechette's Sting, but this was still the first part that bit into its skin.
The tip of the spear.
From a ritualistic standpoint, what would be more appropriate than this?
I collapse The Sword into its compact form and press it against The Blade of Olympus' crossguard.
There's an electric shock and my hand is pushed back.
There was something there! I could almost feel it!
With Newt and Nia's stares burning the back of my head, I try again.
There's that shock again, but I keep my hands steady.
I can almost feel-- sadness? Or is that the taste of broken pride? For a long time, The Sword was our ultimate weapon. It's even in her name. She is The Sword, a perfect and simple name for a perfect and simple existence. She'd have never been anything else because there would have been no need for it. She was perfect.
And now I'm telling her that she isn't. That she isn't enough. That she'll be more useful as a cog in a greater machine.
She worked with others before, but this time will be different. No longer will she be the edge, the trailblazer, the top of the mountain. I'm asking her to become the foundation for something bigger.
How can I ask such a perfect being to change?
But perfection is a lie. It means stagnancy. It means the end of the journey. Death.
She may have been the perfect sword, but now I'm asking her to be something greater. She was already capable of sundering planets. Now I'm asking her to split stars and make gods bleed.
The Sword is an incomplete name. And The Blade of Olympus isn't proper either because the Olympus didn't forge you. I did.
You're the Godbreaker.
The force keeping the two weapons apart vanishes. The Card sinks into the hilt, and the blade lights up. Brighter than Nia had managed.
When the light disappears, I see that one of the human figures at the top of the crossguard has disappeared. In its place, as if holding one edge of the blade, is Leviathan.
The other two figures remain the same.
"So? Is it done?" Nias asks me, so close to me that I can feel her breath against my neck.
My hands close around the handle. There's power here. Greater than anything I made before.
"Not even close."
This was only the first step towards powering it up. Or maybe I should say 'waking it up'.
Oceans. Earth. Heaven.
There are still two missing pieces.
At the very least I know where to get them.
The following day Taylor receives me with the news that she kept her promise and that the PRT has been informed about everything that has been happening on the less palatable side of the law.
Not like they plan to do anything about it either. They already know that Anders is Kaiser and as long as he doesn't make a nuisance of himself we'll keep pretending to be friends.
The public at large believes that the Empire has been appropriately dealt with, and what they don't know won't hurt them.
This lie is another loan we take from life and eventually we'll have to pay it up with interest. Time will tell if we can foot the bill.
But for now, public perception remains king and that's why I'm here with my current partner.
"Can you stop swinging that around? It's creepy." Vista grumbles at my side, glancing at how I toy with the pair of chains that hang from my wrists.
I always liked chains. Not sure why. Ever since Andromeda's to the Prince of Persia's to now Kratos'. There's something fascinating about them. They convey an image of power yet also safety.
It sounds weird when I put it like that, but that's just how I feel.
And then there are all the upgrades I gave mine to be able to control them as if they were extensions of my body, but I doubt that Missy cares too much about them
"Why, though?" I think that they look quite fashionable.
"You look like an escaped convict."
"The girls like them."
"What."
"Nothing." No need to tell her about that. What is she, 12? No, her birthday was the other day so she should be 13 already. No longer a pre-teen but still that's not a conversation that I'm having with her.
I'll let her parents handle that one.
And considering what her home life looks like-- yeah, I think that the Internet will be her most likely teacher.
"Vista! Over here!" Someone yells and I immediately go on guard, Kratos' chains tightening around my arms as if they were vipers ready to strike.
Missy must have noticed my reaction because she pulls me by my elbow. "Act friendly," she whispers into my ear through clenched teeth.
The one who yelled is one of five girls who can't be older than Taylor. They also wear so much jewelry that I'm considering harvesting them for rare metals, and carry bags of recently bought accessories.
The leading girl has a phone in her hand that she aims at us. According to my sensors, it's just a mundane piece of technology, nothing to be concerned about.
I still find the way she aims it at our faces uncomfortable.
"Can you take a photo with us?"
So that's what this all was. I don't even have time to argue the issue because Vista puts an arm around my back and drags me next to her and into the frame. I could resist, but that sounds like a greater hassle than just going along with this. "Of course, citizens! With pleasure!" She says with a warm smile.
The price of fame, I guess.
And of patrolling the safe side of the city.
There's no gang presence here. No criminals, no graffiti. Not even poor people. That's why our purpose here isn't to maintain the order but to assure the dutiful tax-payers that, yes, we are here and we are at their service.
"So, Becky and I have been arguing over something," one of the girls says, aiming a finger at her and then at one of the other girls. "Which Ward do you think is the cutest?"
Missy places a hand against her cheek, faking a blush. "I don't know, they're all my dear friends! And brave companions." She punctuates her statement with a giggle that makes the older girls squeal.
What follows is a whirlwind of photos that Missy forces me into.
"So, what about you? What Ward would you say is the cutest?"
It takes me a moment to realize that the question is directed at me.
Crap.
Eh-- what should I do here? I need to come up with something! Preferably something that won't sound awkward.
Are they still looking at me? Yes, they are still looking at me! Why? Just ignore me and move along!
"Tech-Priest thinks that his machines are the cutests," Missy intervenes, giving me a way out. "Right?"
"Yes, absolutely! They are adorable!" The best part is that it's the truth.
The cape-watchers laugh and outside their sight, I throw Missy a thumbs-up, which she replies with one of her own.
It takes only a couple more photos for them to be satisfied and leave us alone.
"Bunch of dumbasses," Missy says after making sure we're away from prying ears.
"I wholeheartedly agree."
We continue, walking into a shopping mall and out the other side. On the way, we get some more photos and some kids even approach Missy to get her signature.
"Is this always like this?" I ask her.
"No. Sometimes I get interviewed for the radio or TV about how great the heroes are doing. But with you around, I think they didn't want to risk it."
"And they made the right decision."
We make a stop at a bakery where Missy gets warmly greeted by the owner. This seems to be one of her frequent stops in her patrol routes and there's a bag of cookies with her name on it waiting to be picked up. She pays for it and we move on.
"The first time they tried to get me to accept it for free," Missy tells me while munching a cookie. "Told them that I'd do it but in exchange, I'd never come back again. I'm glad that they stopped asking after that."
She hands me the bag, offering me a treat. I accept. I may not need to eat anymore but I can still enjoy the taste of chocolate chips.
"So, I heard that the Nazi lightbulb went missing," she waits just after I have taken the first bite before saying that, making me almost choke on it. "Couldn't have happened to a nicer person."
"Well, we technically--"
"Yes, yes, I know," she interrupts me, crumbling the now empty bag into a ball and tossing it into a trashcan. "Don't rock the boat and accuse the CEO of one of the last companies that are still hiring people in Brockton Bay of being a Nazi. Because we need his money and whatnot."
It sounds really bad when she puts it like that.
I want to argue, but what can I say to that? It's the absolute truth. But the fact that something's true doesn't mean that it's nice or right.
Further discussions are suspended, though, by someone pulling from my sleeve.
It's a kid that can't be older than six. He holds on his hand--
Is that a trading card?
Is that a trading card with my face on it?!
How? When? Who?
Tattletale! I'm sure she's responsible for this. At the very least I hope we're getting some nice revenue from it.
Oh, right, the kid's still staring at me.
My boy, if you want to compete on who can stare at the other awkwardly the longest, you're in for a rude awakening.
"He wants you to sign it," Missy whispers into my ear leaving the 'you dolt' unsaid.
That makes a lot of sense!
She offers me her pen but there's no need. I just morph my finger into one, write my Cape name on the card, and give it back.
"Thank you," he tells me timidly. "If it hadn't been for you, mom would have drowned."
He then dashes away into the waiting arms of a couple. The man lifts him into his arms and just before they leave they wave at us.
At me.
I don't know who they are. I don't know their names and I'll quickly archive their faces into the folder of all the useless knowledge. But the hive remembers. The woman is one of the people that the drones saved during the Leviathan battle.
I raise my hand to wave back, but they are already gone.
"Hey, your first signature." Missy pats my back. "Congratulations!"
"Thank you," I reply. "It felt nice."
It's the small things, you know? You build wonders, beat a bunch of people up, and now and again make someone's life better in the process.
Maybe I should try to be more active about that.
A thought that I'll need to leave for later because Newt's calling me.
"Tech-Priest speaking alongside Vista," I reply, connecting my speakers. If this is serious, Vista may need to hear our conversation.
"We got a tip. A group of villains attacking a Protectorate patrol. Number and identities undefined. We're moving out."
"Great!" Missy cheers. "Where to?"
"Chicago."
"What?!"
I ignore her yell already knowing how we'll get there. "Where is the portal?"
"An alley 20 meters to your left. The rest of the team has already been alerted."
"Perfect, see you there." I turn to Missy. "Ready for some action?"
She flinches, her face twisting as if unsure of what to say. "I'm an ENE Ward! I can't go to Chicago just like that! I'm not even authorized to fight villains!"
Oh, right. The entire mess of state borders and overlapping jurisdictions. Heavy Gear can cross them, but I'm unsure how the Protectorate proceeds in such cases.
And all that without mentioning how the Wards aren't supposed to engage in active combat.
"Technically, you are," Newt tells her, still listening to our conversation. "The Wards manual states that Wards aren't allowed to approach a combat zone unless it is to provide backup to a partner that's already fighting a villain."
Missy slowly straightens up, realization dawning on her. "Tech-Priest is my partner."
This gray area will get immediately redacted after we're back, but until then it's our American duty to abuse it! "And I suspect that I'll be needing some backup."
The corner of Missy's lips curls into a smile. "Let's go, partner."
…
- Pronouns
- He/him
The Godbreaker, the Sword of Olympus made from bits and pieces of the Endbringers.
I wonder if Tech-Priest is going to do it the easy way and ask if the Protectorate has any samples he can use, or immediately go do the harder option of "Let's fight them for ingredients."
I wonder if Tech-Priest is going to do it the easy way and ask if the Protectorate has any samples he can use, or immediately go do the harder option of "Let's fight them for ingredients."
- Pronouns
- male
ah, loopholes the best avenue fo shenanigans
You have to fight them anyway, may as well loot them afterwards in the finest of traditions!
More specifically you can make the materials making up the first and last of those parts more suitable for those purposes by altering the way that the grain of the metal forms to effect things like elastic and plastic deformation points and how it resists different kinds of force applied to it before and after those points.
Well I most certainly don't wonder at all.