10:03 P.M. EST, Sunday, February 13th, 2011
Brockton Bay
The Docks
Excalibur flashed and disabled the ugly turret on Squealer's monstrosity of an armored personnel carrier, which appeared to be made out of what looked like three different pickup trucks and haphazardly attached steel plates. The APC's cloak failed under me, coming fully into the visible spectrum even without my helmet translating into visible wavelengths for me. The cloaking effect did not carry the signs of any technology my sensors recognized. It was either completely novel, or it was the result of Squealer's power imitating the effect of some stolen technology instead of an actual active camouflage system like the one I used.
I jumped off the abomination's roof, my own camouflage still keeping me nearly invisible in the dark. Another sweep of Excalibur on my way down took out two of the APC's three wheels on the driver's side, and the hulking vehicle nearly rolled over before the driver counter‐steered in a practically miraculous display of driving.
I sprinted to catch up until I was next to the driver's side window. It was a thick sheet of polycarbonate, enough to stop most bullets. On the other side of the window Squealer was furiously doing something with controls on the dash. In the passenger seat Skidmark was screaming something no doubt obscene, spit flying through his rotting teeth.
With all the strength of my war body and the power armor over it, I plunged my fist into the armored window. It went plastic under the force and buckled, pulling out of its anchors on three sides and exposing the inside of the cabin.
Squealer barely had enough time to scream before I put a knockout flechette into her and Skidmark. There was considerable screaming after, too, as I forced the door open and dragged her out and away from the controls she needed to remain a threat.
Then I had to turn to protect her with my body as Skidmark tried to use his power to send the warped sheet of polycarbonate and a set of wrenches that must have been in the cab. The wrenches packed enough kinetic energy that I had to brace to avoid being sent tumbling onto Squealer.
She fell unconscious first, followed a few moments later by Skidmark as he was searching with drooping limbs for something else to push through his colored acceleration field at me.
I laid Squealer out on the sidewalk and put Skidmark next to her. Just in case Squealer's abomination decided to spontaneously explode from the damage I'd inflicted, it seemed best that they were some distance away.
Scientia > Skidmark and Squealer won't be making the party. Prometheus, please tell the PRT where they can pick them up.
Prometheus > Command acknowledged, Miss.
Mouse Protector > My turn?
Scientia > Give it about forty seconds for me to get close, I'm just a few blocks away, then you can go.
Mouse Protector > Save some of the fun for me.
Scientia > I will.
Dragon > Armsmaster says his teams are in position.
Making a soaring leap onto the top of a closed laundromat with barred windows, I sprinted across the flat roof to reach the next street with an anticipatory grin on my face.
I might not know what the hell to make of my life, and I might miss a whole lot of people terribly - I still thought of them that way - but at least right this moment I had something that needed doing to take satisfaction in.
Scientia > Good. I'm nearly there.
Oof. The next chapter is coming along at 2.5k, but it's been slow going because all my free time has been going towards exam study or mindlessly recovering from work and exam study. I'm afraid I'm stressed out and need a skip cycle. I'll unthreadmark this when the complete chapter goes up in two weeks.
The good news is that my exam is scheduled now. The stress will probably be over after May 9th, unless I fail the thing and need to retake it, which is certainly possible. The pass rate on the thing is pretty terrifying.
Thank you, beloved reader, for understanding and being patient with me.
