Chris Roberts
The worst part was not doing anything.
Knowing you could do something, but not able to do it because of rules and regulations.
Not that he blamed them. He understood them. He even agreed with them. But it didn't make things easier.
Chris picked up the hot soldering iron and began feeding solder to the point between the iron's tip, the component's lead, and the board he was working on.
This was all he could do while the city was practically in a state of emergency.
He grabbed the next tiny chip, set it on the board, painted the leads with flux, and then ran the iron along a line of solder before checking for any bridges.
It was almost ridiculous, but it took less time for him to hand-build boards than it did to program a pick-and-place, get all the parts set up right, solder-mask the board, run the machine, and then bake the result.
Too many numbers. Too many measurements. It was easier working with his hands.
And at least it gave him something to do.
They were stuck here. The Wards that had been here when the bombing started, at least. Him and Clockblocker.
Gallant and Shadow Stalker had been recalled from their patrol, and he could just imagine the chip Sophia had on her shoulder at being forced to return rather than go find the source. She was already pissed she'd missed their fight against the Undersiders the day before.
For Chris, that fight and victory had been enough for this week. And since then, the ideas had been coming easier, smoother.
He'd spent the entire morning at school doodling little things that nobody but he would understand. Plans. Parts. Reminders.
He just had to focus. To not let himself lose this.
Not let it slip away into scattered fragments like normal.
He finished working another small QFP chip and picked up the next with the tweezers, placing it on the board and tacking down a corner.
Besides. It gave him something to do, so that his overactive mind wasn't thinking about what was happening. Wasn't lost in the possibilities.
He glanced over at the computer a few feet away on the workbench and poked the mouse, waking it up so he could check the time.
And was immediately reminded that Dennis had somehow changed his wallpaper.
Not to anything bad, in fact it was a pretty good image, it was just… unnecessary.
Somehow, Dennis had gotten a perfect high-definition shot taken from the Uber and Leet video that had aired the night before. Relentless stood, her armor alight with those weird symbols and a glowing sword in her hands, staring up at the utterly massive dragon that looked down at her with eyes of flame and a glowing maw.
Okay, yeah, it was kind of an amazing picture.
Yes he thought her armor and abilities were impressive, much less the presence she held—when she wasn't caught off guard, at least. And okay, the way she'd absorbed Squealer's laser and then suddenly acted like Battery was particularly interesting to him because it was some kind of energy conversion and he had to wonder if it was her powers or something to do with her armor because maybe he could make something like that too.
…But that did not mean he had a crush on her.
In fact he was pretty sure Dennis knew that, so he was really just teasing Chris over his interest.
Not that there wasn't interest in general now, considering the way at least a third of Arcadia had been talking about her this morning. Uber and Leet videos tended to do that, and the fact that they'd done something so different, and it was a new cape who was apparently 'pretty strong' just made it all the more gossip-worthy to teenagers, even those who didn't normally get involved in cape-talk.
So Chris at least had the ability to feel a little vindicated about that this morning, since it wasn't just him anymore.
Besides, it was also interesting in the potential implications of balance in the cape scene.
Five major factions. Empire. ABB. Merchants. New Wave. Protectorate.
They controlled the largest majority of parahuman muscle and were indisputably the strongest. There were both rogues and independent capes, as well, but the rogues stayed to the side, and the independents.
Chris grimaced as he stripped wires and stuck them through plated holes.
Independents… typically did not last very long. They usually had powers that were tricky or difficult to use to their full potential, and sooner or later —usually sooner, unfortunately— ended up in one of the gangs, were killed in a fight against one of the gangs, or survived long enough to learn how and when to cut their losses. And less than a sixth made up that last group.
A strong independent like Relentless was essentially a new faction, especially if she managed to survive —or even stronger, win— more and more fights.
Beating Lung on her first night had given her major weight, and the videos of her tearing apart Squealer's drug-tank and that dragon had only made her more impressive. Which in turn meant that there was a minor power vacuum, and that there was the possibility of other independents seeking her out and coordinating or working with her, building a power-base even if inadvertently.
Chris took the completed micro-board and moved down the counter, putting the part in a half-assembled metal rectangular cage the size of a hard drive and making sure it was seated firmly before returning to where he'd been and collecting the components he'd need for the last inner pieces.
Time slipped by, parts connecting, forming. So much of this wire. A little of that metal, heavy-duty MOSFETs, inductor coils, a power core he'd built months ago for a gauntlet idea that never panned out…
He took a step back and examined the result. Plain, but hopefully functional. He pressed the tiny test button that would be unnecessary if it worked, and a blue shimmering bubble flickered into being, stabilized for ten seconds, and then faded away.
Chris grinned. He'd actually finished something. From start to finish. It was smaller and more limited in functionality than what he usually tried to do, but it had also been much easier. Maybe he should think about trying that more often.
Checking the time, it was only… seven-thirty? Okay, geez. He needed to eat.
Now that he was aware of it, the hunger was practically impossible to ignore.
He stretched as he got up and moved towards the door, exiting into the hallway and wandering towards the kitchenette.
What was in the fridge…?
After a moment of indecision and then deciding he really didn't care as long as it was food, he grabbed the ziplocked half of a tuna-fish sandwich that was on the "public" shelf and headed towards the common room.
Dennis and Dean were on the couch that sat off to one side, eyes glued to the evening news that was playing on the large screen opposite them. He wished he could do that, but he just… couldn't. At least not right now.
"How is it?" Chris asked as he started on the sandwich, heading towards one of the chairs to the side of the couch.
Dean craned his neck to look at Chris and then turned back to the TV. "The bombings have stopped. The Protectorate got Bakuda. Apparently Purity called a truce or something, because she was helping."
That was… interesting. Was it just opportunity, or something more? The Protectorate didn't usually do dealings with villains.
"It's mostly just clean-up right now. PHO says New Wave and Relentless were working with Emergency Services."
There she was again. And this would undoubtedly get her no small amount of public support, either.
"Where's Sophia?"
"I'm pretty sure she's in her room," Dean answered.
"Probably glaring at the wall or whatever it is she does when she's alone," Dennis added. "She needs to learn how to chill the gung-ho thing. Like, I get it. You don't like sitting back when shit's going down and you could help. Neither do I. But do you see me letting it affect the team dynamic?" He sighed. "Whatever."
The screens at the side of the room glowed green as an alarm went off, and thirty seconds later the doors to the common room opened, revealing Triumph.
Chris finished off the last of the sandwich and closed the ziplock bag as the doors closed.
Dennis looked over at the door. "Hey, Triumph."
The young man paused for a moment, seeing them, and then began moving forward again. Once he got to the couch he removed his helmet and sat down in a chair on the other side from Chris so he could look at all of them.
The Tinker watched him closely, noticing the slightly resigned look he had.
Rory took breath and looked up. "Lung escaped."
Oh that was not good. Really, really not good.
"How?" Dennis asked, the first to recover his speech.
"Oni Lee," Rory said. "They used Bakuda as a distraction to have most of the Protectorate away from the Rig, even if they didn't count on her getting caught. He blew up one of the outer walls and headed straight to Lung. The guards stationed there and Miss Militia tried to stop him, but Lung had already started growing by the time they got to his cell and were forced to retreat."
"Was anybody hurt?" Dean asked immediately.
"Not… not on our side. But while Lung was escaping, he took the opportunity kill one of the other detainees."
"Who?" Chris found himself asking.
Rory looked aged. "Tattletale."
He felt himself inhale sharply. Shit.
"Wait, the blonde girl we just fought yesterday?" Dennis questioned.
The Protectorate hero nodded.
"H-how?" Dean asked and Chris had to look at him. This was Lung. He had more than enough ways. It was less a question of how and more why?
"Burned. They couldn't even find a body," he said roughly, looking haggard. "Miss Militia said you could hear her screaming all the way on the other side of the Rig." The man took a deep breath.
Chris swallowed, trying to keep the sandwich he'd just eaten from making a reappearance.
Well, that was… detailed.
"Sorry," Triumph apologized when he noticed their expressions. "I didn't mean to tell you that."
And she'd been Chris' age. She'd been a nuisance the day before, but he hadn't wished her dead, much less what she'd gone through.
He wasn't even sure why the Undersiders had gone to the Rig rather than been held in the PRT building, as that was usually reserved for the more… violent individuals.
But… he supposed that was rather moot at this point. It wouldn't bring her back, nor did it give any sort of comfort. All they could do was move forward.
Brockton Bay was like that. Bakuda and Lung, winning against the Undersiders only to have one die horribly the next day…
Chris sighed.
It seemed that even when they won, they lost.
A/N: Unsure about the ending, but I tried it a couple ways and it wasn't coming out much different, so I just said screw it. (Also holy crap I met my posting date estimate.)
Onwards!~
