Chapter 13 – Thin Ice

"This is most unjust!" breathed Tyrande Whisperwind upon finding out what, supposedly, SPEAR had done/allowed to happen. She knew that these "Direct Repercussion Investigators" probably had their own agenda, but inasmuch as the casual murder of thousands of people offended her, she fingered them the lesser of two evils at this point.

Kael'thas Sunstrider felt torn, more than Tyrande anyway. On one hand, extremism in defense of one's people found sympathy in his mind, but exactly how these actions could be construed as beneficial wasn't so clear.

"When questioned, they always fall back on the Roman Empire" explained Benedict Pious. "It isn't that they are wrong about the facts—there were good reasons why the Romans fell—it's that they're incorrect in rigidly applying that worldview to the present day, thousands of years later."

Pious took the risk of briefing all four Heroes at once. Having been given as much information as one could get about the fictional backgrounds of each, he knew crafting a single story to entice all four at the same time would be dicey. However, he hadn't survived (and thrived!) within the militaristic WET as a comparative pacifist by being inarticulate.

Thus, he stressed misguided attempts to protect "the people" (Kael'thas), betrayal needing punishment (Leoric), and rash actions causing undeserved deaths requiring a strong response (Tyrande/Thrall). Having talked his way out of far worse, including one conflict that would have seen him drummed out, possibly even executed, he ended up at Atlantis. This series of events led him to being the leader of the Direct Repercussion Investigators—sworn to both protect the world from Functional Supernatural Phenomena but more importantly protect themselves from the flaws seen in SPEAR, especially WET.

"You will be given as much autonomy as possible" he continued. "One of the central flaws of the Weaponized Extraction Teams was that it was too centralized, so the extremism of one person became policy for the whole organization. By permitting individual initiative and encouraging debate, we aim to avoid what led to the horrors of Anaheim."

Thus the embiggering of Tyrande, Thrall, Kael'thas, and Leoric. The latter was to be watched by the former three—his abilities only became more dangerous at a human scale. Still, his dedication to the cause appeared strong for the moment. As a test befitting his undead status, Leoric would be sent in to perform some "adjustments" on a Field Lattice Generator.

"Yes, they are similar to the Horadrim waypoints" said Pious.

"Then how am I to destroy it?" demanded the Skeleton King. "That magic has outlived both demon and angel!"

"These aren't nearly so robust" said Pious, laughing. "Change a few switches and their plan will be thwarted."

Brandon Kiner and his colleague Sarah Ahmason were the closest DRI had to scientists at the moment. Brandon would accompany Leoric and actually supply instructions, his having read a few notes about how FLGs worked on an internal wiki.

"Adjust these settings…" he said as Leoric wraith-walked through several heavy doors. Given an order to not kill, the Skeleton King instead left the few guards he encountered as blubbering messes courtesy of his "drain hope" which restored his own physical form at the expense of the psychological well-being of his target. Or it could just incapacitate people since he wasn't exactly in a battle at the moment.

Brandon's limited understanding of FLG machinery led to Leoric altering key settings by several orders of magnitude more than would be necessary to throw everything out of line.

"It's like someone just came in here, and multiplied half the settings by ten, or ten times ten!" huffed Dr. James-Johnson Arbat upon seeing Leoric's handiwork. He'd dialed in medical reports for guards, none of whom could exactly explain what left them balled up and crying, yet free of any visible physical traumas. One said something about a "big skeleton" but such vague descriptors didn't ring any bells.

[…]

"Well, this is different."

Jaina Proudmoore couldn't recall the last time anyone had seen Sylvanas with her hood down. Sure, it might have flown off as her body flipped end-over-end courtesy an Azmodunk, but outside of matches it was perpetually covering her head. Now, not only had she donned something other than that burgundy cape, but apparently she'd even spent some time on her hair, as it seemed quite a bit more tame than the usual. The closest Jaina could compare to would have been Valla, prior to the Hall of Fallen Heroes.

"I… I don't really know" confessed Sylvanas Windrunner. "I just felt the need to change."

In this respect, the Heroes could relate directly to the "real world"—in-game and out, characters and people sometimes chose to signify changes in personality through changes in appearance. It seemed Sylvanas had taken this route with straightened hair, slightly more modest (though still flattering) clothing, and, dare it be said, an utter lack of odor.

"They weren't kidding" replied Jaina. Even she couldn't be diplomatic about it, so she just spat it out. "You really lost the stench."

"Oh, is that the first thing you noticed?" said Sylvans, suddenly sulky.

"No, no!" cried Jaina. "Well, it was one of several things…"

Without warning, Sylvanas stood, dashed to Jaina and grabbed her mage's staff.

"They also fixed up this" hissed the elf, pulling up her sleeve to reveal a right arm that did not fit with her overall appearance in the slightest—it being smooth grey contrasting with her overall blue skin tone. Jaina couldn't decide if she was hearing things, a small whirr and spidering cracks appeared on her staff near Sylvanas' apparently very strong grip.

"Be careful!" scolded Jaina. "I just polished that!"

Sylvanas chuckled and tossed the slightly-damaged staff back to its owner.

"Why don't you chill out for a bit?"

Jaina forced herself to keep her eyes level rather than rolling them in response to Sylvanas' stealing one of her catchphrases. Sylvanas turned back to a bowl of oatmeal.

"Since when do you eat?"

Jaina sat down opposite, hoping to make conversation.

"The technology—if that's even the right term—these people have is…impressive" replied Sylvanas through a mouthful of food. "Even though it can be used for terrible things, other aspects are actually rather interesting. Like this arm" (she showed off her artificial appendage) "or enabling me to experience taste again."

Unlike Sylvanas, Jim Raynor often stepped out of his "Hero-clothes," as he was now.

"Hey, hey, gals!"

"You're another one of those obnoxious morning people, aren't you?" huffed Sylvanas, still eating.

"You step on a creep tumor this mornin'?" he replied.

For once, Sylvanas remained silent.

"Anyhow, so I've been thinking—this world seems obsessed with technology, not just this magic stuff but the tech they had before we showed up. I wonder if Gazlowe and I could do something with that?"

Jaina turned to Raynor in mock annoyance.

"Oh, so now you want to talk Advancement Ambassador?"

"Look, I'm just in it for the computers" said Gazlowe from much lower, free of his usual robotic attachment. "Dunno how they work, but I want to find out!"

"Okay, you caught me. Sarah was telling me about her rather unconventional approach to veterinary medicine…"

Jaina sighed. On one hand, more paperwork. At the same time, this world could use all the help it could get.