The clerk sat in front of the glowing screen. The large monitor giving his face a sickly green tint as his spider like fingers padded silently across the symbols in front of him. 'Twenty four units of left shoulder pads? Impossible I ordered thirty six full sets. This will not do, this simply will not do.' The clerk never jacked in like the others. He enjoyed the way the smooth cold data pad felt under his fingers. He took pride in the speed at which he worked. He had convinced himself that he could type faster than some of the other clerks could think. 'Arbiter Denton will not be pleased. No he will not be pleased at all. Unless...I fix it. Yes I shall fix it!' The tapping increased to a steady hum as the clerks long thin fingers moved with almost inhuman speed. 'There! Thirty six right shoulder pads routed from the training supply, they have plenty to spare. Only half the protection but they look the same. Then, the twelve right shoulder pads would be collected from the morgue after a good spray down.' The clerk cracked his fingers and sat back, pleased with himself. The hours were awful ,the pay was laughable but the clerk actually enjoyed his little bolt on the Arachnos machine.
In his small room the clerk was safe. The faint light hummed and popped. He sat on his bunk staring at the small mirror above the sink. His dark brown eyes were set deep in a thin pale face. Clean shaven on both his chin and head with the exception of some dark stubble that clung like moss to the skin above each ear. The clerk smiled at his reflection, the high cheekbones making his toothy grin appear unreal and false. He hated his face however it did seem to be built perfectly for his slight wiry frame, the pale, thin skin showing every awkward angle of his body which he hated with equal measure. 'Thirty six. Thirty six.' He felt his mind slipping to that bad place. He fell off the bed onto his hands and knees shaking and sweating. 'No, NO!' He quickly felt under the bed for the spot he knew so well. His fingers felt for the blemish and found it. With an audible sigh he pushed the slight indentation. The hidden drawer slid open without a sound.
There, resting in a nest of greasy rags was his true love. She was painted in a dark green matt that seemed to soak up the light. At a glance it appeared to be just a standard issue Arachnos assault rifle. But to the clerk it was much more.
The circumstances behind the guns arrival were not so unusual. A shipment of assault rifles was mistakenly delivered to his small base. What made this error unique was the fact that there was a miscount. The crate contained twenty five guns. The paperwork stated twenty four. One week later a crate was delivered to a remote base containing twenty four assault guns. The invoice, listing the cost of reshipping them, was typed neatly and resting on top. In his many years of service the clerk had never done anything out of the ordinary. Keeping this one gun was so against his nature that he could not even look at it for almost a year. During that time he was not idle. He studied every aspect of the gun. He went through every part and piece in his mind. He downloaded the blue prints and went over each beautiful part over and over again. He could dismantle it and clean it mentally within two weeks. Then he let his thoughts run wild. He reviewed every possible upgrade. When he became bored with the standard issue he started adding custom modifications. Soon he was seeking the bits and pieces he needed throughout the base. Clerks were largely ignored by the real soldiers. This allowed him a huge amount of freedom. After the year had passed and he was convinced that Lord Recluse would not be tearing down his door looking for the lost gun, he finally began to work. The gun was completed in six months. The upgrades he could obtain were added with room left for those upgrades that he could not yet afford or find.
Staci. That was her name. This small, beautiful, dark green piece of death was named Staci. He named her after his favourite virtual 'girlfriend,' because she was beautiful and expensive. Staci, the gun, was custom made for the clerks long nimble fingers. The symbols, triggers and safeties would make little sense to any other hands. Even if one could understand the meaning of the markings, very few would have the finger reach, speed and dexterity that the clerk knew he alone possessed. This customization would give him instant access to the many 'surprises' the compact gun contained. He gently pulled Staci out of her hidden bed. He caressed the modifications and admired the dark green finish, his favourite colour. The clerk stood in front of the mirror holding the gun. He glared at his reflection. Now holding his love, his high cheekbones and pale face seemed menacing. His wiry frame with its hard angles seemed sharp and unpredictable. 'I would run from me. Yes I fucking would. I would run FAR! The clerk clicked the shotgun mechanism over and over again. 'RUN! Hahaha! What? You're a hero? What's your name? Never heard of you! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!' The clerk screamed out the sounds that he and his new lover would make. In these private moments he could let his thoughts run wild. Several hours later the clerk collapsed, sweating, on his bunk. With Staci tucked away in her hiding place the clerk smeared a small amount of gun grease under his nose and drifted off to sleep.
He stared at the light grey lumps of processed meat floating in the milky liquid. He could only stomach two bites of the 'ration of the day'. He sipped at the cold stimulant drink waiting for it to take hold on his sleepy mind. He stared at the black screen. Data tablets were shut off during the 20 minute lunch time to save generator juice. Five more minutes….five more minutes until…..The explosion slammed his head into his data pad. Dazed he slid off of his chair onto the floor and crawled beneath his desk. Another explosion and the smell of burnt hair followed soon after. Shaking uncontrollably the clerk tried to focus on the battle unfolding. There were strange flashes followed by popping as if electrical lines had been snapped and were whipping around. Then he heard the screams. The screams were loud and terrifying and they were mingled in with the sound of automatic gunfire and the occasional high pitched revving of an energy blast. The strange popping noise was steady and sure but more distressing was the fact that each pop seemed to silence a gun with now the smell of, cooked beef? Perhaps the soup had been tipped over the clerk thought desperately. Then the pops and screams seemed to stop suddenly. The clerk held his breath. The milky white soup was dripping from the lip of his desk. The sound of each drop resonated in the room as it landed in the white pool just inches from his nose as he lay curled under his desk. Just when he thought this terror had passed he heard the footsteps. Each step seemed to be accompanied by a strange hum which increased as the mysterious intruder approached the desk. The clerk closed his eyes and did not move a muscle. There was a hope however small that this unknown presence would see the spilt cup of soup and move on. As this thought finished in his mind the clerk sensed the footsteps had stopped and he slowly opened one eye. There just inches from his face were two large dirty yellow boots. The boots were thick and heavy in appearance. Small little glowing veins seemed to be threaded through them pulsing and humming with power. 'All right you little piece of shit.' Said the voice attached to the feet. 'I need you to listen VERY carefully to what I am about to tell you. Whimper once if you can hear me.' The clerk could not stop the low deep moan of fear that erupted from his throat. 'I guess that will have to do. Today is your lucky day. I am going to let you live with a couple of conditions. First I want you to crawl out from under that desk and look at me.' The clerk cautiously slid his head out from underneath his makeshift shelter. Laying on his back the clerk stared up at his tormentor. He was big. His thick insulated suit only served to enhance his size. The small glowing veins seemed to be threaded through both gloves as well. On his left arm was a large glowing yellow transparent disk, buzzing with energy. This seemed to be some type of force shield. His right arm was the source of the popping. The veins or wires on the right glove were glowing brightly. The loud popping seemed to follow flashes of electricity moving over his clenched fist. There were brown splashes over the glove and up the arm and slight wisps of smoke rose from these smears. The clerk's stomach flipped as he realized this smoke was the source of the cooked beef smell. The head was encased in a half helmet with a full mirrored face plate covered in a spray of bright red droplets. 'You…..your Shock Shield! You've done work for us!' The clerk stammered. 'Yep, you're a bright one aint ya? That is why, you skinny little fuck, I let you live. You're going to tell your boss bitches that this job was done by Phil A Ment. He is a hero with electric powers who has stomped on my last goddamn nerve for well over a year now. You're going to tell them that you put up a good fight but he shocked you and you passed out. You know why you're going to do this?' The clerk gave a small shake of his head. 'I never burn a bridge that's why. This gear costs a lot of money to keep up and I need all the work I can get. The money for this little job was just too good to pass up. Oh, by the way, I also found this.' The glowing shock glove opened to reveal the clerks I.D. badge. 'If I EVER find out you squeaked that I was here or if I do not get a contract from Arachnos for a while I will find you and I will kill you. You see this glove here, the one with all the charred blood on it? That's right give it a good once over you pale little pussy. I can adjust this from very low to VERY high. When I come for you, we will give each setting a good hour until we hit that magic number. Am I making myself clear?" The clerk nodded once, his eyes still glued to his work badge. 'Good.' The Super Villain tucked the I.D. into his broad belt. 'Now your heroic struggle begins and ends. Touch my shield and try not to piss yourself.' With trembling fingers, the clerk reached out and gently touched the large humming disc.