Story of an industrious Tinker
- Thread starter Haaret
- Start date
I like her wand revolver, that's a cool modern + fantasy mashup. And I like that the Nazis pretty handily lost that one, prepared and well equipped tinkers really should be that good, especially given they were being reactive which is not ideal for fighting a tinker. The cocaine is an interesting spot too because she's essentially destroying it, so it's not finding its way back into the market or getting used. Hard to track that way, which I assume the empire is trying. Legally she could get super done for possession but there is an interesting defence in that she isn't using it at all. Sure if she ever got arrested she would almost certainly end up in the wards but it would be interesting.
Only part I'm not sure on is her speed reading ring, if only because that's hideously powerful if permanent. Being able to strip mine entire libraries in an afternoon seems like one of the most powerful abilities to me. It'd make sense to have some kind of drawback, if she either had to keep doing it to commit it to long term memory or if she can only do so much a day or something. Being well read on just about every relevant discipline is bonkers, and extremely hard to write convincingly.
Only part I'm not sure on is her speed reading ring, if only because that's hideously powerful if permanent. Being able to strip mine entire libraries in an afternoon seems like one of the most powerful abilities to me. It'd make sense to have some kind of drawback, if she either had to keep doing it to commit it to long term memory or if she can only do so much a day or something. Being well read on just about every relevant discipline is bonkers, and extremely hard to write convincingly.
- Location
- US
I think it's a ring of Scholar's Touch, which doesn't store any information, just gives her whatever information a single reading would give. But it works fast, so in a minute she can gain whatever benefits would be had from rereading the book 10 times.
Since this seems to be based on the 3.5/3.0 versions, she doesn't have perfect retention. However, if Rebecca can make an item that lets her use Autohypnosis she can use it to memorize and recall important information verbatim in chunks of up to 800 words. Would be useful for memorizing diagrams. Trained only, but it might be possible with the spell Loresong from Dragon 335.
I wonder if powers would show up under Detect Magic.
Appraising Touch would be useful for her, in terms of figuring out how much her power 'values' various objects. Hopefully she can find something better than drugs to use.
Not good news that the Empire figured out she's stealing drugs, since the PRT almost certainly knows as well.
Last edited:
- Location
- Brazil
Ah, Scholar's Touch. Definitely up there in "superpower of choice", especially among the first level spells.
- Location
- New Zealand
Hmm, a 'winter rose' evergreen plant. Is the choice in flower significant, or the fact that most of them are poisonous? Or was it just because she liked the look of the flower?
This is a brilliant idea, essentially letting Becky wield six wands at once.
Did Becky just catch a small glimpse of her shard? I don't think she has a patron, and I think that shards are generally red, so it's the option that makes the most sense to me.
Nice catch with Krieg spotting her stealing the drugs for herself. My reading of this was that he just spotted it then, rather than having worked it out beforehand. I can see him mentioning that to the PRT to cause problems for her, but I can also see him keeping it quiet in the hopes that the rest of the Empire will break him out, so that they can use this knowledge to their own advantage, thinking that they can either lay a trap for Mystra or lure her over to their side.
Ironically, her panicked and not-very-convincing defense would just reinforce his idea that she's a junky. It must be pretty unusual to see a ~13yo girl apparently needing industrial quantities of hard drugs, and if the PRT does know then they must be getting pretty alarmed. Even if Krieg keeps quiet in the hopes that the Empire can use this 'knowledge', the PRT might still figure it out by examining the crates of drugs and seeing a bunch of full ones and a few half-empty ones, unless Becky was very precise in her orders for the unseen servants to take the drugs.
She could probably bribe Charlotte into staying quiet by letting her borrow it for a few minutes each day, just to let her ace all of her schoolwork.
It looks pretty funny from outside, as if she is snorting industrial amounts of cocaine, since none of it is making back to the streets.
egoo
Totally Not Creating Problems Where None Existed
- Location
- Russia
Immediate understanding of books is good, but what about retention?
Cant remember off-hand if MC here already made a perfect memory effect for herself.
And 3.5/pathfinder has a surprising number of spells to do the "read book fast" routine.
Like, aswah thread had at least 5 to 7 used conjunctively at some point.
And the MC, as badass this fight was, is a total ass to the person who is in the best spot to fuck it all up for her civilian side of things.
Nice going, dumbass.
Cant remember off-hand if MC here already made a perfect memory effect for herself.
And 3.5/pathfinder has a surprising number of spells to do the "read book fast" routine.
Like, aswah thread had at least 5 to 7 used conjunctively at some point.
And the MC, as badass this fight was, is a total ass to the person who is in the best spot to fuck it all up for her civilian side of things.
Nice going, dumbass.
If Mystra is actually recognized as a tinker, especially one who uses chemicals then that would also be a neat explanation of why she steals a decent amount of drugs and keeps them for herself.
People would likely think she uses them as components in creating her tinker chemicals. In a way they'd even be right.
People would likely think she uses them as components in creating her tinker chemicals. In a way they'd even be right.
The ring, as has been pointed out casts scholars touch, so she gets the knowledge, as if she had read it normally, nothing is stored in the ring.
As for allies (summons, constructs or other) that is something for Arc 3
And you are very welcome
The fusion of magic and tech in the revolver is the most basic version of what she is hoping to achieve later, but she needs the ring to get there. I do understand the hesitancy though I had to think long and hard about it, but I think it balances out for a few reasons. First, it doesn't provide any boost to memory, reading a book loads of times gives you a good sense of what's their but doesn't necessarily give perfect recall, more an understanding. Second, it will still take a while to strip mine a library, they have a lot of books, so it is a time investment away from tinkering. And third, we don't tend to give 13 year olds massive reading assignments as a primary way of absorbing knowledge, because it take critical thinking skills to work out what is correct and relevant that they usually haven't developed yet (I know uni students who have struggled with that kind of learning) Becky still has to determine what to read and what to believe.
What the ring really gives her, is an unparalleled research ability, so rest assured she isn't going to suddenly become the most well read person with precise knowledge of every topic, that is way to hard to write well/convincingly, she's more likely to have general trivia level knowledge (I've heard of that sort of stuff) unless she's taken the time to research.
I agree though, tinkers are scary and should be given the chance to be seen as such.
Charlotte's big character flaw (at least in this fic) is loyalty, beyond reason. It makes sense when her community is so close knit due to the Nazi infestation, but she's a kid, so her behaviour's are magnified.
This isn't enough to push her over the edge, that needs something bigger.
Couple of things here, the flower has some symbolism to it, but Becky isn't really thinking that, she just wanted a flower that could naturally be black to fit the stone age was using.
The teleportation effect was interesting wasn't it
This was Krieg noticing her stealing things and putting some things together (not necessarily correctly) he knows she needs/wants it for something. PRT don't know yet and he is unlikely to tell them that stuff went missing. If the PRT did know they would freak out, no one in government wants a teenager with super powers to be addicted to cocaine.
And unfortunately, like the rest of her gear, the ring only works for Becky. She could bribe her with her own get out of homework cheat ring, if she was able to have a civil conversation with her cousin at the moment.
Oh yeah, absolutely. But she is 13, that was pretty much guaranteed to happen at some point,. the problem is that, while Charlotte is also acting a bit dickishly, she's not in the wrong. And on a deeper level, Becky knows this. But she is also a grieving teenager with memory problem embroiled in a one girl v gang war, she doesn't know how to articulate her feelings. So she lashes out.
Also there is one other person, in a better spot to mess up her civilian life
- Location
- Brazil
Also, it seems the gymnast past has come to the fore with all those flips during the truck scene, and she didn't even notice how odd it is to casually backflip over a moving truck.
Last edited:
There are! Taurus Judge Public Defender!
Boy someone is going to have nightmares about the freaky Goblin that ran outside the car and broke the window
Da Empire trying to get their own cocainomaniac tinker...
All in all an excellent chapter! Thank for writing
- Location
- USA
Well, nobody ethical, that is. I bet someone like Calvert would be more than happy to accommodate, and I bet there's a ton of people like him in the government
- Location
- Not here. Maybe on SB.
Thanks for update!
The thing is - for most of DnD campaigns it isn't, because most of it about beating monsters and everything unrelated to it have little value and screentime, sadly. So I can see why it's so low-rated.
Well, if DnD at least low-level spell and enchanted items were used wisely any DnD setting would be at least Eberron-level civilization in no time - Eberron's Dragonmarked Houses sure help, but not that necessary to build that level of infrastructure.
Ring of Sustenance would aslo be relatively low-level and understimated item, reducing need to sleep to two hours a day.
- Location
- Not here. Maybe on SB.
And "reducing" need in food and drink to zero. Yes, that's damn great item.
And I (my characters, I mean) make sure to throughly mock all my party members without one when they forced to eat awful shit because the rations ended, and no one know how to cook whatever ranger (or someone with Survival skill) found.
The only one reason why it so low-level - because you can only have two rings at once, and that one doesn't help in combat at all (though, in my experience it kinda does, indirectly, like when most of my party had diarrhea from the bad water they drank, and I didn't
).
Last edited:
Imagine trying to siege a fort whose defenders all had rings of sustenance.
Also, I would love to see her shul becoming a power to take the fight to the empire by outfitting a militia of members with her equipment. Downside to doing the smart thing and spending all her time making equipment for more combat capable people being that her growth would slow to a crawl without the xp from fighting. Does she get xp from anything else?
Also, I would love to see her shul becoming a power to take the fight to the empire by outfitting a militia of members with her equipment. Downside to doing the smart thing and spending all her time making equipment for more combat capable people being that her growth would slow to a crawl without the xp from fighting. Does she get xp from anything else?
- Location
- Germany
I'm currently in the middle of reading chapter called Pride and I can't help but commet when "I wasn't sure if was possible to use a backpack that contained a pocket dimension as a weapon but it seemed unlikely." came up, all I have to say to this is
Portable hole am I a joke to you? Arrows of total annihilation FTW.
Portable hole am I a joke to you? Arrows of total annihilation FTW.
Multi-class: Rogue
The workshop was alive with the hum of activity, a small army of unseen servants were working industriously, using enchanted tools made of adamantine to carve pre-selected rune patterns into Mithril plates that would be attached to my armour. Hundreds of white pages, covered in elaborate scripts and diagrams hung suspended in mid-air allowing the invisible constructs to copy my work perfectly. As the sun shone weak morning light through the windows I sat at my workbench putting the finishing touches to the small improvement I was making to my Father's ring.
I had figured out a way to improve the force-field it projected and I was using some of the bounty from my raid of the Empire two nights ago to implement it, as a small break in between creating the magic ink needed to complete the scrollwork on my new armour. The creation and use of the ink was a crucial step, but it was tedious work, made more frustrating by the fact that I had to be the one to make and apply it, I couldn't outsource it to my unseen servants like I could the etching. It had been keeping me busy throughout my tinkering time these last couple of nights, I had already completed a full set of the armour, completely enchanted and ready to go. The work my unseen servants were doing now was to give me a backup I could use if I needed it, before I got the chance to reapply the ink, as well as creating plates with a variety of different effects I could swap out as and when I thought I might need them.
It wasn't what I wanted to be working on. Oh, the improvements to the ring were important and over the next few days I planned to incrementally improve the enchantments on my armour and necklace, as well as doing small tweaks to what my rings could offer, but the real work was still out of reach. My power had given me glimpses of some truly wondrous things I could create, and while I didn't think I could oust the empire with a magic train or an automatic printing press, their existence hinted at something greater. With enough time and effort, I could merge the principles behind my magic with technology to create something greater than either field could manage alone. But I was still locked out of exploring this new field, though this time it wasn't because of my power, but because of me. I didn't know enough about… well, everything. The small steps I had taken, using an improved knowledge of medicine and the body to create the ointment that stopped me from accidentally killing Nazi's in the truck crash, or the wand-revolver I made after a cursory glance at fifteen different books on firearm construction, had only served to whet my appetite.
With a sigh, I put the ring back on my finger and felt the protective field embrace me as I did so. It was still invisible, but it felt stronger, more real or tangible in some way it was lacking before. Instead of taking the piece of engraved Mithril offered to me by an eagerly waiting unseen servant, I waved it away and looked upon my spoils from the raid earlier in the week. Looking back, I could admit to myself that it was probably a foolish idea. I hadn't planned for the presence of capes and had gotten lucky that the loadout I brought was so effective against Krieg and Alabaster. I had been angry after my argument with my cousin, and had wanted to blow off some steam, which had led to me attacking the Empire's drug transport as soon as I had heard about it, rather than doing any further research. I had gotten incredibly lucky that I had walked out of that unharmed, and I probably shouldn't have rubbed the fact in Charlotte's face as much as I did.
Looking over the neatly arranged piles of drugs in front of me though, I found it hard to regret my actions. I had managed to grab just under ten Kilos of illicit material, a small fraction of the total they had been moving, the remainder of which had been impounded by the Brockton Bay police department, but a veritable bounty in crafting material for me. Most of it was cocaine, like the brick I took from the distribution centre, but the rest was made up of powerful narcotics that I wouldn't have recognised if I hadn't recently spent a few hours cramming hundreds of medical journals into my brain. I had looked into the process for creating powerful opioids like hydrocodone, fentanyl and oxycodone and I was a little confused as to where the Empire was getting them. There were well established channels for getting access to cocaine through illegal means, so I guessed that came from South America, but it should be a fair bit more difficult, even for an organisation as large and well connected as the Empire, to get your hands on a large amounts of highly regulated medicine like this, especially with it still in the original packaging.
Next to my workbench, carefully separated from any trace of drugs, was my phone. I had unplugged one of the machines so I could charge it, while also using the tenuous connection to the house's wireless network to watch the news while I worked. I had stumbled across a video of my fight with Krieg and Alabaster on Parahumans Online while I was doing drudge work on the armour in the early hours of the morning and ever since I had been tethered to the small screen, watching as local news networks started to get a hold of the story.
One local news crew had even camped out on the shore near the bridge to the Protectorate headquarters until Assault came out in the early hours of the morning to do a short interview about me. It had been nice to see him standing behind a microphone, a little blurry because of the poor video quality on my phone, extolling my virtues. Armsmaster may be pushy and Gallant may be a bit of a weirdo, but listening to Assault praise me for my restraint in taking down two dangerous capes, and helping take several million dollars worth of drugs off of the streets (with only minor property damage) had reminded me that the Protectorate wasn't all bad.
Not everyone was as generous as my new favourite local superhero. The video currently playing was one of those early morning talk-shows, where a couple of aggressively Aryan hosts were talking to a number of 'cape experts' about the video.
"What I don't understand is why the PRT is taking such a light touch with this vigilante" a woman with an aggressively sharp haircut, asked a beleaguered looking man in a tan suit. "Her unprovoked attack caused massive property damage and put seven men in the hospital."
"Seven criminals," the man interjected, brow furrowed with a frustrated grimace as he started talking over the top of the host "Criminals who were accompanied by two super-powered criminals, and who were transporting several million dollars-worth of illegal drugs and restricted narcotics."
"So, you are saying that putting people's lives at risk is worth it to take drugs off the street?" Asked the other host, a man with a jaw so chiselled it could sculpt marble. "It's a miracle no one in the vehicles died in the crash, and if there had been anyone in that building, we would have a very different story on our hands."
"The PRT can't arrest people for things they might do wrong in the future, and the Vigilante Act gives some rights to heroically inclined parahumans to intervene in a crime in progress." The final person on screen spoke up, a short harried looking woman with curly brown hair and large circular glasses spoke up, "I'm sure the authorities are reaching out to Mystra about appropriate use of force, if they haven't done so already."
"So, you agree that Mystra used excessive force?" said the blonde woman, a predatory gleam in her eye as the guest tried to stammer out a clarification as the other three continued bickering.
I sighed as I finished the piece of armour in my hands, and reached forward to switch off the program, unplugging my phone from its charger as I did so. That was the third show of its kind I had watched since the video broke online and all three had been more or less the same. First, they would throw out accusations, painting me as the person in the wrong, then they would try and minimise the cruelty of the Empire, using clever linguistic tricks to try and make us seem equivalent. Luckily, no-one on any of these news channels had gotten wind of the fact that I was stealing drugs off of the Nazi's. I wasn't sure what the fallout of that would be, but I didn't want to find out.
I pushed the armour I had been working on aside, into the waiting arms of an unseen servant who immediately started to organise it and put it away. On my phone I pulled up Parahumans online and made my way to the Brockton Bay pages to watch the video, again. The quality was pretty poor, and the grainy footage only started after the crash. I watched, as a small figure in pink and black drifted eerily to the floor as dust settled around her.
It was odd, watching myself like this. I knew that it was me, I remembered everything that happened like it was seared onto my brain. But looking at it from an outsider's perspective was different Maybe it was the lack of sound, or the angle it was filmed from, which meant that you could only see part of the battlefield. But the whole thing was surreal, it made me wonder what other people felt when they saw it, saw me, doing obviously impossible things.
I ignored the comments under the video, after I made the mistake the first time I saw it and found myself entranced by a three page argument by internet weirdos who were trying to figure out how tall I was. Instead I headed over to the new page, dedicated to me on the Brockton Bay independents page. There was a surprising amount of information on there, from pictures of my armour, to descriptions of some of my alchemy that looked suspiciously like they had been lifted directly from some kind of official file. There had already been several people pretending to be me, which was really creepy. But luckily the Moderators had been quick to flag accounts as unverified and issue warnings.
I was debating whether to verify my own account on PHO, so that I could defend myself online if the news coverage got any worse, when I heard a silent ringing in my head. The sound of small silver bells, alerted me to the fact that someone was approaching the workshop, setting off the wards I had recently installed. Instantly all activity stopped, tools were suspended mid motion, before there was a whirlwind of movement as I ordered everything be immediately hidden. With remarkable speed, and surprisingly little noise, tools were returned to their boxes, as armour pieces were swiftly swaddled in silk and secreted around the space. By the time I could hear light footsteps on the wooden stairs outside, the last of the mountain of narcotics had been hidden in locked boxes that only I could open.
The doorknob rattled as it was turned roughly, before the carefully painted wood swung open to reveal the slumped shoulders of my aunt still wearing her hospital scrubs from her overnight shift. She smiled slightly at me as she straightened her back and stepped into the workshop.
"Is it time for school already?" I asked, trying to hide my surprise. While I occasionally had unexpected visits from Uncle Saul, it was very rare for Aunt Edie to venture into this space. She glanced around at the gleaming silver machines, and polished wooden desk covered in black velvet cloth, an air of sadness clinging to her like a well-worn coat. Her eyes lingered on the old jewellery box that had belonged to my grandfather, I watched her fingers move as if she was unconsciously remembering the feel of the weathered metal clasps.
She turned to me and consciously shrugged off the weight that had settled on her the moment she entered the room. "Not yet, you have about fifteen minutes before you have to get going." Her voice was soft, almost hoarse. She spoke quietly each word measured carefully, as though it cost her something to say, "I just wanted to chat to you before you went."
"Ok" I shifted in my seat, suddenly nervous. I felt sweat unexpectedly bead across my body as an uneasy dread settled over me, my legs felt itchy and far too warm in my black leggings. I shifted my weight, trying to surreptitiously scratch my legs without looking guilty. My aunt carefully picked her way around the space, pulled Charlotte's chair from the corner she had flung it to in her latest sullen fit, and brought it over to me. She sat down a scant few feet from me and leant forward until her eyes were level with mine.
"Are you okay, Becky?" She asked, her hazel eyes piercing me and arresting me in place with such intensity that for a moment I couldn't breathe. I felt my throat hitch, and I had to forcibly swallow to clear it as uncertainty gripped me by the base of my spine.
"I'm fine," I lied, wincing at the weakness in my voice and painfully aware of my aunt's gaze as my eyes flickered away from her face briefly, failed to register anything and moved back to Edie's eyes. She closed her eyes for a heartbeat or two and sighed. For a moment I could smell the peppermint on her breath from the nicotine gum she chewed when she was trying to quit smoking.
"I know things haven't been easy lately." She said, ponderously "and it's ok if you are struggling, or if you are feeling overwhelmed." One of her hands snaked out grabbed mine tightly, she flinched almost imperceptibly as her encircling fingers touched my mother's wedding band, before she started gripping even harder, as if to make up for it. "I haven't been there for you as much as I would like. And I am sorry for that, I just want you to know that you can talk to me, or your uncle. I promise to listen and help as best I can."
My self-control almost burst at that point. I felt hot tears tracking down my cheeks as I bit back the words that, deep down, I wanted to say. An old pain, one I thought I buried under red earth and washed away with rain water months ago, reared its head and I was hit with a fierce sense of longing that threatened to destroy what little composure I had remaining.
My fear battled my grief and I was left by the wayside, so wracked with indecision that the only things I could do was cry and hold onto my aunt's hand like it was a lifeline, the only thing that could anchor me to the here and now. Hours passed in the blink of an eye, as minutes crawled glacially by, until I was left feeling drained and empty, cheeks still flushed and wet with tears. "Thank you" was all I managed to croak.
My Aunt looked torn between concerned and disappointed, she hid it well, but I could tell she had wanted me to open up more, rather than just soak my school uniform. "Also, I know something is up between you and Charlotte" she said, changing tack. "I won't pry, but remember that she is your cousin, that she loves you and that she is trying to help in her own way, ok?"
"I'll try" I said, nodding my head slightly, as I rooted around the workspace for a tissue to blow my nose with.
"That's all I ask. Why don't you go freshen up a little before you head to school, okay?" she gave me one last comforting squeeze with her hand, before sliding it out of my clammy grip and standing up. I followed her out of the workshop, pausing only to lock the door behind me before ducking past her, running back to the house, and shutting myself in the bathroom.
*** *** ***
The babble of school washed over me as I stepped through the gates into the dull grey courtyard. The hubbub of gently milling students blunted some of the sharpness I was still feeling after my emotional chat with Aunt Edie this morning. Charlotte hurried away from me as soon as we reached the school, finding Madison, Sarah, and Lianne while I hung back for a moment longer, savouring the lack of urgency in my movement.
I had tried to open up with my cousin on the way here, but she was still stubbornly choosing to remain angry with me, so I had stopped before her silent judgement and curt responses could goad me into frustration. I leaned up against the wall as I checked the clock hanging over the main entrance. Walking in angry silence apparently meant we made good time, as we were a good twenty minutes early for first period. I settled into my spot, content to watch the steady stream of students arrive and allow my friends a period of calm where they weren't forced to mediate between me and my cousin.
After a couple of minutes, I noticed a ripple in the crowd as a small circle formed. Shouts and jeers blended together into a relentless cacophony that was completely incomprehensible. Turning my gaze, I spotted Michael, the boy from Shul who Charlotte pretended she didn't have a crush on, squaring off against Edgar. The two of them eyed each other from across the circle as I finally realised what the crowd was shouting about, the steady cries of "fight, fight, fight" rang across the enraptured courtyard, as everyone was suddenly engrossed by the pair.
Michael looked nervous, he was a skinny kid with long arms and legs that left him looking a little awkward and out of proportion, with curly brown hair and kind eyes. He was circling apprehensively around the outskirts of the space, occasionally stumbling as one of the other boys pushed him slightly towards his opponent.
Edgar had taken off his blazer and was standing in just his polo shirt, his school bag abandoned on the floor beside him. He hopped up and down on the spot for a second, shaking out his arms and splaying his fingers, before clicking his neck from side to side theatrically. As he turned, I gasped involuntarily at the sight of his face. He had come into school before with a black eye, but this was far worse. The entire side of his face was mottled a dark purple, parts were swollen, and the skin was broken in places and weeping crimson. That wasn't the worst of it though, down his neck I could see a jagged looking cut that was partially covered in poorly applied bandages, it curled down from his chin to his collarbone, and looked like someone had taken an extremely sharp, yet uneven blade and just ripped at his skin haphazardly.
It must have been excruciatingly painful, but he didn't seem to care, powering through on pure anger as he charged towards Michael, who was currently held in place by the wall of students behind him. I stood up straight, one foot forward as I prepared to dash in and stop the fight, when a hand flashed out and grabbed my right forearm, pulling me back.
I turned in surprise to find Angela, standing next to me with one eyebrow raised. "Hi Becky," she said with false brightness. "I need to talk to you, let's go somewhere more private while everyone is… distracted." Then, still holding onto my arm with an unexpected strength, she turned and powered through the few students standing between us and the main entrance. The door slammed open as we approached, and a haggard looking Mr Bainsley swept past us and started trying to force his way through the crowd.
I briefly debated breaking out of Angela's grip, as she marched down the hall, peeking into classrooms as she did so, searching for an empty one. I decided that I wasn't in any danger that was worth using any of my gear, and I was curious as to what she wanted to say that would warrant getting her brother to pick a fight before class.
The first two classrooms had teachers in them, getting prepared for the first lessons of the day, but the third one was empty. Angela pushed the door fully open and let go of my arm as she walked inside, I rubbed were she had been holding me, trying to massage it a little and followed her inside. The door swung closed behind me, the heavy wood and metal slamming against the frame just as Angela spun on her heel to look me directly in the eye.
"I know that you are Mystra."
The words hung in the air for a moment as a ripple of shock passed through my body. I felt my stomach drop and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I blinked slowly back at her.
"I don't know what you are talking about," I replied after a few seconds of stunned silence, trying to keep my voice as level as possible, while simultaneously summoning an unseen servant behind me, just in case.
"You don't need to pretend, I figured it out a little while ago. I was just waiting for the right moment." She waved her hand airily as she perched herself on the edge of one of the desks. She looked relaxed, calm, as she slid her bag off her back and down to the floor beside her. "I haven't told anyone" she continued "Not even Edgar, he thinks it's that scrawny kid, Michaels fault" She shot me a conspiratorial grin "thinks he trying to impress a girl by getting at him."
Even as she was speaking, my mind was racing. I was trying to come up with options and none of them looked good. I had a few pieces of alchemy on my person, as was my habit at school, but none of them would help in this situation. My mind flashed to the scrolls I had been producing for my armour and I mentally kicked myself for not making anything for emergency situations as a civilian. Though I wasn't sure I could make anything that would remedy this particular catastrophe.
I shook away the partially completed plans for a particularly nasty spell that would permanently alter someone's memory, and asked "What makes this the right time?"
The smile disappeared from her face, and for a moment she looked pensive, almost scared. Her hand fiddled with the strap of her bag as she turned her eyes downward for a moment. "I need help with something." She looked back at me, eyes now wide and all traces of smug superiority vanished in favour of complete earnestness. "You help people, right? That's what you do?"
I felt some of my apprehension fade a little under her wide-eyed gaze. I was still conflicted, the idea of helping Angela didn't sit right, but considering the risk she was taking by talking to me… "Yeah," I said softly, "I help people. What do you need?"
"I need to get me and my stupid brother out of this shit-hole of a city, away from the gangs and away from our father." The vehemence in her tone was a striking clash against the vulnerability she had been showing a second previously, her voice rang with real anger and contempt.
"I'm not exactly sure how I can help with that," I said, pursing my lips slightly in thought. "Have you tried child protective services?" She laughed bitterly and without humour, her head thrown back slightly as her shoulders shook.
"I've been there, tried that and I have the scars to prove it" she said, pulling back her braided blonde hair to show the edges of two thick lines of white puckered skin on the back of her neck. "Nothing sticks to him, and it just makes him angrier. No, we need to get out of town, and to do that we need money."
I stared at her a little confused, before saying, "I've got a little cash, enough to get you out of the city, but it's not much…" I trailed off as she shook her head vigorously.
"No, if we are going to escape his clutches we need enough to stay under the radar."
"I'm not sure what you want from me then," I replied honestly, furrowing my brow as I tried to think up a solution.
"But it's obvious!" she exclaimed, for the first time since I had met her, a genuine smile graced her features, lacking any of the usual cruelty or malice. "I want you to rob the Empire for me."
As always (even if I forget to put it on here) many thanks to ccstat for beta reading my chapters.
We are fast approaching the end of the arc, the next chapter will be with Becky, but after that I have two interludes planned, before the big arc finale.
I hope you enjoy the chapter, let me know what you think.
I had figured out a way to improve the force-field it projected and I was using some of the bounty from my raid of the Empire two nights ago to implement it, as a small break in between creating the magic ink needed to complete the scrollwork on my new armour. The creation and use of the ink was a crucial step, but it was tedious work, made more frustrating by the fact that I had to be the one to make and apply it, I couldn't outsource it to my unseen servants like I could the etching. It had been keeping me busy throughout my tinkering time these last couple of nights, I had already completed a full set of the armour, completely enchanted and ready to go. The work my unseen servants were doing now was to give me a backup I could use if I needed it, before I got the chance to reapply the ink, as well as creating plates with a variety of different effects I could swap out as and when I thought I might need them.
It wasn't what I wanted to be working on. Oh, the improvements to the ring were important and over the next few days I planned to incrementally improve the enchantments on my armour and necklace, as well as doing small tweaks to what my rings could offer, but the real work was still out of reach. My power had given me glimpses of some truly wondrous things I could create, and while I didn't think I could oust the empire with a magic train or an automatic printing press, their existence hinted at something greater. With enough time and effort, I could merge the principles behind my magic with technology to create something greater than either field could manage alone. But I was still locked out of exploring this new field, though this time it wasn't because of my power, but because of me. I didn't know enough about… well, everything. The small steps I had taken, using an improved knowledge of medicine and the body to create the ointment that stopped me from accidentally killing Nazi's in the truck crash, or the wand-revolver I made after a cursory glance at fifteen different books on firearm construction, had only served to whet my appetite.
With a sigh, I put the ring back on my finger and felt the protective field embrace me as I did so. It was still invisible, but it felt stronger, more real or tangible in some way it was lacking before. Instead of taking the piece of engraved Mithril offered to me by an eagerly waiting unseen servant, I waved it away and looked upon my spoils from the raid earlier in the week. Looking back, I could admit to myself that it was probably a foolish idea. I hadn't planned for the presence of capes and had gotten lucky that the loadout I brought was so effective against Krieg and Alabaster. I had been angry after my argument with my cousin, and had wanted to blow off some steam, which had led to me attacking the Empire's drug transport as soon as I had heard about it, rather than doing any further research. I had gotten incredibly lucky that I had walked out of that unharmed, and I probably shouldn't have rubbed the fact in Charlotte's face as much as I did.
Looking over the neatly arranged piles of drugs in front of me though, I found it hard to regret my actions. I had managed to grab just under ten Kilos of illicit material, a small fraction of the total they had been moving, the remainder of which had been impounded by the Brockton Bay police department, but a veritable bounty in crafting material for me. Most of it was cocaine, like the brick I took from the distribution centre, but the rest was made up of powerful narcotics that I wouldn't have recognised if I hadn't recently spent a few hours cramming hundreds of medical journals into my brain. I had looked into the process for creating powerful opioids like hydrocodone, fentanyl and oxycodone and I was a little confused as to where the Empire was getting them. There were well established channels for getting access to cocaine through illegal means, so I guessed that came from South America, but it should be a fair bit more difficult, even for an organisation as large and well connected as the Empire, to get your hands on a large amounts of highly regulated medicine like this, especially with it still in the original packaging.
Next to my workbench, carefully separated from any trace of drugs, was my phone. I had unplugged one of the machines so I could charge it, while also using the tenuous connection to the house's wireless network to watch the news while I worked. I had stumbled across a video of my fight with Krieg and Alabaster on Parahumans Online while I was doing drudge work on the armour in the early hours of the morning and ever since I had been tethered to the small screen, watching as local news networks started to get a hold of the story.
One local news crew had even camped out on the shore near the bridge to the Protectorate headquarters until Assault came out in the early hours of the morning to do a short interview about me. It had been nice to see him standing behind a microphone, a little blurry because of the poor video quality on my phone, extolling my virtues. Armsmaster may be pushy and Gallant may be a bit of a weirdo, but listening to Assault praise me for my restraint in taking down two dangerous capes, and helping take several million dollars worth of drugs off of the streets (with only minor property damage) had reminded me that the Protectorate wasn't all bad.
Not everyone was as generous as my new favourite local superhero. The video currently playing was one of those early morning talk-shows, where a couple of aggressively Aryan hosts were talking to a number of 'cape experts' about the video.
"What I don't understand is why the PRT is taking such a light touch with this vigilante" a woman with an aggressively sharp haircut, asked a beleaguered looking man in a tan suit. "Her unprovoked attack caused massive property damage and put seven men in the hospital."
"Seven criminals," the man interjected, brow furrowed with a frustrated grimace as he started talking over the top of the host "Criminals who were accompanied by two super-powered criminals, and who were transporting several million dollars-worth of illegal drugs and restricted narcotics."
"So, you are saying that putting people's lives at risk is worth it to take drugs off the street?" Asked the other host, a man with a jaw so chiselled it could sculpt marble. "It's a miracle no one in the vehicles died in the crash, and if there had been anyone in that building, we would have a very different story on our hands."
"The PRT can't arrest people for things they might do wrong in the future, and the Vigilante Act gives some rights to heroically inclined parahumans to intervene in a crime in progress." The final person on screen spoke up, a short harried looking woman with curly brown hair and large circular glasses spoke up, "I'm sure the authorities are reaching out to Mystra about appropriate use of force, if they haven't done so already."
"So, you agree that Mystra used excessive force?" said the blonde woman, a predatory gleam in her eye as the guest tried to stammer out a clarification as the other three continued bickering.
I sighed as I finished the piece of armour in my hands, and reached forward to switch off the program, unplugging my phone from its charger as I did so. That was the third show of its kind I had watched since the video broke online and all three had been more or less the same. First, they would throw out accusations, painting me as the person in the wrong, then they would try and minimise the cruelty of the Empire, using clever linguistic tricks to try and make us seem equivalent. Luckily, no-one on any of these news channels had gotten wind of the fact that I was stealing drugs off of the Nazi's. I wasn't sure what the fallout of that would be, but I didn't want to find out.
I pushed the armour I had been working on aside, into the waiting arms of an unseen servant who immediately started to organise it and put it away. On my phone I pulled up Parahumans online and made my way to the Brockton Bay pages to watch the video, again. The quality was pretty poor, and the grainy footage only started after the crash. I watched, as a small figure in pink and black drifted eerily to the floor as dust settled around her.
It was odd, watching myself like this. I knew that it was me, I remembered everything that happened like it was seared onto my brain. But looking at it from an outsider's perspective was different Maybe it was the lack of sound, or the angle it was filmed from, which meant that you could only see part of the battlefield. But the whole thing was surreal, it made me wonder what other people felt when they saw it, saw me, doing obviously impossible things.
I ignored the comments under the video, after I made the mistake the first time I saw it and found myself entranced by a three page argument by internet weirdos who were trying to figure out how tall I was. Instead I headed over to the new page, dedicated to me on the Brockton Bay independents page. There was a surprising amount of information on there, from pictures of my armour, to descriptions of some of my alchemy that looked suspiciously like they had been lifted directly from some kind of official file. There had already been several people pretending to be me, which was really creepy. But luckily the Moderators had been quick to flag accounts as unverified and issue warnings.
I was debating whether to verify my own account on PHO, so that I could defend myself online if the news coverage got any worse, when I heard a silent ringing in my head. The sound of small silver bells, alerted me to the fact that someone was approaching the workshop, setting off the wards I had recently installed. Instantly all activity stopped, tools were suspended mid motion, before there was a whirlwind of movement as I ordered everything be immediately hidden. With remarkable speed, and surprisingly little noise, tools were returned to their boxes, as armour pieces were swiftly swaddled in silk and secreted around the space. By the time I could hear light footsteps on the wooden stairs outside, the last of the mountain of narcotics had been hidden in locked boxes that only I could open.
The doorknob rattled as it was turned roughly, before the carefully painted wood swung open to reveal the slumped shoulders of my aunt still wearing her hospital scrubs from her overnight shift. She smiled slightly at me as she straightened her back and stepped into the workshop.
"Is it time for school already?" I asked, trying to hide my surprise. While I occasionally had unexpected visits from Uncle Saul, it was very rare for Aunt Edie to venture into this space. She glanced around at the gleaming silver machines, and polished wooden desk covered in black velvet cloth, an air of sadness clinging to her like a well-worn coat. Her eyes lingered on the old jewellery box that had belonged to my grandfather, I watched her fingers move as if she was unconsciously remembering the feel of the weathered metal clasps.
She turned to me and consciously shrugged off the weight that had settled on her the moment she entered the room. "Not yet, you have about fifteen minutes before you have to get going." Her voice was soft, almost hoarse. She spoke quietly each word measured carefully, as though it cost her something to say, "I just wanted to chat to you before you went."
"Ok" I shifted in my seat, suddenly nervous. I felt sweat unexpectedly bead across my body as an uneasy dread settled over me, my legs felt itchy and far too warm in my black leggings. I shifted my weight, trying to surreptitiously scratch my legs without looking guilty. My aunt carefully picked her way around the space, pulled Charlotte's chair from the corner she had flung it to in her latest sullen fit, and brought it over to me. She sat down a scant few feet from me and leant forward until her eyes were level with mine.
"Are you okay, Becky?" She asked, her hazel eyes piercing me and arresting me in place with such intensity that for a moment I couldn't breathe. I felt my throat hitch, and I had to forcibly swallow to clear it as uncertainty gripped me by the base of my spine.
"I'm fine," I lied, wincing at the weakness in my voice and painfully aware of my aunt's gaze as my eyes flickered away from her face briefly, failed to register anything and moved back to Edie's eyes. She closed her eyes for a heartbeat or two and sighed. For a moment I could smell the peppermint on her breath from the nicotine gum she chewed when she was trying to quit smoking.
"I know things haven't been easy lately." She said, ponderously "and it's ok if you are struggling, or if you are feeling overwhelmed." One of her hands snaked out grabbed mine tightly, she flinched almost imperceptibly as her encircling fingers touched my mother's wedding band, before she started gripping even harder, as if to make up for it. "I haven't been there for you as much as I would like. And I am sorry for that, I just want you to know that you can talk to me, or your uncle. I promise to listen and help as best I can."
My self-control almost burst at that point. I felt hot tears tracking down my cheeks as I bit back the words that, deep down, I wanted to say. An old pain, one I thought I buried under red earth and washed away with rain water months ago, reared its head and I was hit with a fierce sense of longing that threatened to destroy what little composure I had remaining.
My fear battled my grief and I was left by the wayside, so wracked with indecision that the only things I could do was cry and hold onto my aunt's hand like it was a lifeline, the only thing that could anchor me to the here and now. Hours passed in the blink of an eye, as minutes crawled glacially by, until I was left feeling drained and empty, cheeks still flushed and wet with tears. "Thank you" was all I managed to croak.
My Aunt looked torn between concerned and disappointed, she hid it well, but I could tell she had wanted me to open up more, rather than just soak my school uniform. "Also, I know something is up between you and Charlotte" she said, changing tack. "I won't pry, but remember that she is your cousin, that she loves you and that she is trying to help in her own way, ok?"
"I'll try" I said, nodding my head slightly, as I rooted around the workspace for a tissue to blow my nose with.
"That's all I ask. Why don't you go freshen up a little before you head to school, okay?" she gave me one last comforting squeeze with her hand, before sliding it out of my clammy grip and standing up. I followed her out of the workshop, pausing only to lock the door behind me before ducking past her, running back to the house, and shutting myself in the bathroom.
*** *** ***
The babble of school washed over me as I stepped through the gates into the dull grey courtyard. The hubbub of gently milling students blunted some of the sharpness I was still feeling after my emotional chat with Aunt Edie this morning. Charlotte hurried away from me as soon as we reached the school, finding Madison, Sarah, and Lianne while I hung back for a moment longer, savouring the lack of urgency in my movement.
I had tried to open up with my cousin on the way here, but she was still stubbornly choosing to remain angry with me, so I had stopped before her silent judgement and curt responses could goad me into frustration. I leaned up against the wall as I checked the clock hanging over the main entrance. Walking in angry silence apparently meant we made good time, as we were a good twenty minutes early for first period. I settled into my spot, content to watch the steady stream of students arrive and allow my friends a period of calm where they weren't forced to mediate between me and my cousin.
After a couple of minutes, I noticed a ripple in the crowd as a small circle formed. Shouts and jeers blended together into a relentless cacophony that was completely incomprehensible. Turning my gaze, I spotted Michael, the boy from Shul who Charlotte pretended she didn't have a crush on, squaring off against Edgar. The two of them eyed each other from across the circle as I finally realised what the crowd was shouting about, the steady cries of "fight, fight, fight" rang across the enraptured courtyard, as everyone was suddenly engrossed by the pair.
Michael looked nervous, he was a skinny kid with long arms and legs that left him looking a little awkward and out of proportion, with curly brown hair and kind eyes. He was circling apprehensively around the outskirts of the space, occasionally stumbling as one of the other boys pushed him slightly towards his opponent.
Edgar had taken off his blazer and was standing in just his polo shirt, his school bag abandoned on the floor beside him. He hopped up and down on the spot for a second, shaking out his arms and splaying his fingers, before clicking his neck from side to side theatrically. As he turned, I gasped involuntarily at the sight of his face. He had come into school before with a black eye, but this was far worse. The entire side of his face was mottled a dark purple, parts were swollen, and the skin was broken in places and weeping crimson. That wasn't the worst of it though, down his neck I could see a jagged looking cut that was partially covered in poorly applied bandages, it curled down from his chin to his collarbone, and looked like someone had taken an extremely sharp, yet uneven blade and just ripped at his skin haphazardly.
It must have been excruciatingly painful, but he didn't seem to care, powering through on pure anger as he charged towards Michael, who was currently held in place by the wall of students behind him. I stood up straight, one foot forward as I prepared to dash in and stop the fight, when a hand flashed out and grabbed my right forearm, pulling me back.
I turned in surprise to find Angela, standing next to me with one eyebrow raised. "Hi Becky," she said with false brightness. "I need to talk to you, let's go somewhere more private while everyone is… distracted." Then, still holding onto my arm with an unexpected strength, she turned and powered through the few students standing between us and the main entrance. The door slammed open as we approached, and a haggard looking Mr Bainsley swept past us and started trying to force his way through the crowd.
I briefly debated breaking out of Angela's grip, as she marched down the hall, peeking into classrooms as she did so, searching for an empty one. I decided that I wasn't in any danger that was worth using any of my gear, and I was curious as to what she wanted to say that would warrant getting her brother to pick a fight before class.
The first two classrooms had teachers in them, getting prepared for the first lessons of the day, but the third one was empty. Angela pushed the door fully open and let go of my arm as she walked inside, I rubbed were she had been holding me, trying to massage it a little and followed her inside. The door swung closed behind me, the heavy wood and metal slamming against the frame just as Angela spun on her heel to look me directly in the eye.
"I know that you are Mystra."
The words hung in the air for a moment as a ripple of shock passed through my body. I felt my stomach drop and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I blinked slowly back at her.
"I don't know what you are talking about," I replied after a few seconds of stunned silence, trying to keep my voice as level as possible, while simultaneously summoning an unseen servant behind me, just in case.
"You don't need to pretend, I figured it out a little while ago. I was just waiting for the right moment." She waved her hand airily as she perched herself on the edge of one of the desks. She looked relaxed, calm, as she slid her bag off her back and down to the floor beside her. "I haven't told anyone" she continued "Not even Edgar, he thinks it's that scrawny kid, Michaels fault" She shot me a conspiratorial grin "thinks he trying to impress a girl by getting at him."
Even as she was speaking, my mind was racing. I was trying to come up with options and none of them looked good. I had a few pieces of alchemy on my person, as was my habit at school, but none of them would help in this situation. My mind flashed to the scrolls I had been producing for my armour and I mentally kicked myself for not making anything for emergency situations as a civilian. Though I wasn't sure I could make anything that would remedy this particular catastrophe.
I shook away the partially completed plans for a particularly nasty spell that would permanently alter someone's memory, and asked "What makes this the right time?"
The smile disappeared from her face, and for a moment she looked pensive, almost scared. Her hand fiddled with the strap of her bag as she turned her eyes downward for a moment. "I need help with something." She looked back at me, eyes now wide and all traces of smug superiority vanished in favour of complete earnestness. "You help people, right? That's what you do?"
I felt some of my apprehension fade a little under her wide-eyed gaze. I was still conflicted, the idea of helping Angela didn't sit right, but considering the risk she was taking by talking to me… "Yeah," I said softly, "I help people. What do you need?"
"I need to get me and my stupid brother out of this shit-hole of a city, away from the gangs and away from our father." The vehemence in her tone was a striking clash against the vulnerability she had been showing a second previously, her voice rang with real anger and contempt.
"I'm not exactly sure how I can help with that," I said, pursing my lips slightly in thought. "Have you tried child protective services?" She laughed bitterly and without humour, her head thrown back slightly as her shoulders shook.
"I've been there, tried that and I have the scars to prove it" she said, pulling back her braided blonde hair to show the edges of two thick lines of white puckered skin on the back of her neck. "Nothing sticks to him, and it just makes him angrier. No, we need to get out of town, and to do that we need money."
I stared at her a little confused, before saying, "I've got a little cash, enough to get you out of the city, but it's not much…" I trailed off as she shook her head vigorously.
"No, if we are going to escape his clutches we need enough to stay under the radar."
"I'm not sure what you want from me then," I replied honestly, furrowing my brow as I tried to think up a solution.
"But it's obvious!" she exclaimed, for the first time since I had met her, a genuine smile graced her features, lacking any of the usual cruelty or malice. "I want you to rob the Empire for me."
As always (even if I forget to put it on here) many thanks to ccstat for beta reading my chapters.
We are fast approaching the end of the arc, the next chapter will be with Becky, but after that I have two interludes planned, before the big arc finale.
I hope you enjoy the chapter, let me know what you think.
- Location
- Here
Now hold on right there!
I can't Rob the empire unless it becomes morally questionable and forces me to rethink my relationships and the stability of my home life!
I mean how can someone punch a Nazi without lifetimes of angst being added on!?
Oh I'm going to keep all the drugs but it's not for drug use but I'm not going to go into why just so you know okay thanks bye.
