AN: Ok, so I think the title of this chapter says it all. At first I was struggling to keep this story going, it just wasn't coming together for me. I got the first two sections of this chapter done and then drew a blank. After that a lot of other things happened, including a death in the family. I finally sat down the other day and decided to just finish this. It's not my best and I might tweak it later, but I really just wanted to get this jump done with and move on with the story.
One of the guest reviews seemed to be predicated on a misunderstanding so I wanted to clarify things. The Basic Requirements perk is only part of the first jump, it doesn't follow him into the next Jump. It's just to prevent the Jumper from picking up things like superpowers and magic permanently for a relatively light cost.
Chapter 3: Time Flies When Shit Happens
When Calvin saw that he was being sent to the Stargate universe he had visions of adventures to far off planets and learning about super advanced technology. What he got instead was sand, slavery, and menial labor.
He had awoken in a large tent surrounded by other men. All of them dressed in ill fitting rags and looking worn down. Before they were fully awake, a pair of men burst in and began rounding them up.
Each of the newcomers was large and burly, outfitted in metal armor, carried a large staff, and had the symbol of an egyptian style eye seemingly tattooed on their foreheads. From his knowledge of the source material Calvin knew these were Jaffa, the primary warrior slaves for a race of beings called the Goa'uld.
The Goa'uld were a parasitic race of snake-like creatures that infected and took over a host. They then used advanced technology to pretend to be Gods and enslave innocent life across the galaxy. Over the course of millennium they had forged an interstellar empire that was only hampered by their tendency to fight amongst themselves.
Calvin was broken from his thoughts as he and the others were shuffled quickly across the hot desert sands until they eventually reached a large stone pit. Arrayed around the top of the pit were more Jaffa, all of them carrying the staffs that doubled as powerful plasma cannons capable of flash frying flesh.
For days they toiled in the hot sun chipping slowly away at the walls of the quarry with tools barely better than the stone they were used on. Everyday was the same and they quickly began to blur together. Occasionally one of the workers would be too slow for the Jaffa's liking and would be dragged off, only to be returned several days later in even worse shape but working more feverishly.
Clavin did his best to simply keep his head down and not draw any attention to himself. Seeing the cruelty around him as the Jaffa seemed to take pleasure in their suffering was difficult, but as only one man there wasn't much he could do. A couple of times he tried to talk the other slaves into rising up, after all there wore far more of them.
Unfortunately all this did was make the others shy away from him. Those that truly believed that the Goa'uld were Gods kept a wary eye on him and any who might have agreed with him kept their distance so as to not be punished if he was ever taken.
Around a month and a half after he arrived, Calvin finally reached his breaking point. Shortly after midday, with the sun finally starting to descend in the sky, one of the older men tripped as he was pushing a wheelbarrow full of loose rocks. He fell with a grunt and the rocks were scattered across the ground.
As the man leapt quickly to his feet, rushing to return the rocks to the fallen wheelbarrow, one of the Jaffa yelled at him and grabbed his collar. The Jaffa dragged the man away, Calvin and the other miners knew they would likely never see him again since this wasn't his first mistake. No one moved, simply continuing their work and acting like nothing was happening.
Calvin tried to hold his tongue, all of his perks and memories telling him that he would only make the situation worse. He turned to go back to work, offering a silent apology to the man, when he heard him cry out in alarm. One of the other Jaffa had grabbed a young boy that looked to be the man's grandson and was dragging him along with the man.
Even though he knew it wouldn't help, even with all of his abilities telling him this wouldn't go in his favor, Calvin finally had enough. His body was moving before he gave the action any more thought, the distance to the nearest guard disappeared in two long strides. His right foot lanced out in a low kick, the Jaffa's knee snapping to the side with a sickening crack and making him stumble to the ground.
Calvin followed this quickly with a straight kick to the man's chest, snatching the staff from his hand in the process as the man was sent sprawling. It took a moment of fumbling, during which he could hear the other guards begin shouting at him, but he managed to activate the weapon he now carried.
As he swung it in the direction of the nearest guard the others began firing at him. A blast to his right sent him diving in the opposite direction, rolling across the ground to maintain his momentum. He came to a stop behind one of the large wooden carts they used for hauling rocks and started to return fire.
His first shot missed wide as he was unfamiliar with the bulky weapon. Fortunately it was a fairly intuitive device to use and his next shot caught the Jaffa in the shoulder, dropping him to the ground. Calvin took aim at the next guard but was forced to duck back when they increased their fire.
As he stood to take the next shot he realized that none of the other miners had moved to help, in fact all of them were cowering from the guards. He wasn't really surprised, these people had seen the results of anyone trying to rebel or resist. His lapse in attention cost him and the next incoming bolt hit him square in the chest.
It felt like someone had taped a grenade to his chest and set it off, minus the shrapnel. Through the searing pain he could smell burnt flesh and hear the guards shouting orders to each other. One of them grabbed him and dragged him to his knees, shaking him slightly and gesturing to the middle of the quarry.
Calvin didn't have much other choice but to look in the direction indicated to him. The other miners had been rounded up and stood in the middle of the quarry. An order from one of the Jaffa had the others activating their weapons. Through the haze of pain, he realised what was about to happen but was powerless to stop it.
With another order the Jaffa opened fire, cutting the miners down to the last man. As he thrashed weakly in the grip of the man holding him, Calvin could hear one of the guards chastise him for 'defying the Gods'. The Jaffa that had spoken swung his staff at Calvin's head and the world went dark.
When Calvin snapped back to consciousness he found himself chained to a wall and perfectly healthy. The doors to the cell he was in opened and a tall man in ornate robes sauntered into the room flanked by two large Jaffa.
The man was fairly effeminate, with long black hair and a slight build. He looked to be of Egyptian descent, with tanned skin and dark eyes. Calvin recognized him from the original Stargate movie, he was the host of the most powerful Goa'uld, Ra.
"So you are the slave that fought back against your God." He spoke as if Calvin was little more than a particularly fascinating ant. "Interesting, most have lost their will to fight long ago. I'm curious to see how long it lasts. In time I may even have a use for you."
After that brief encounter Calvin's days became a long blur of agony. For the remainder of his time in this setting he was repeatedly subject to every torture the Goa'uld could think up. He was beaten, stabbed, skinned, crushed, electrocuted, and a thousand more things every day. Each time he got too close to dying the Goa'uld stuck him in a Sarcophagus, a man-sized healing device that could bring a person back from the brink.
The perks he picked at the beginning were a mixed blessing in this situation. Thanks to the ones that fortified his mind like Veteran and No Matter Where You Go, he was able to stay sane. This also meant that he had to endure all of the torture with no release that would come from just letting go of his sanity and embracing madness.
On top of that, Seeing the Sights made sure that he never forgot a second of it. More importantly, he could never forget the looks on the miner's faces as the Jaffa slaughtered them. That was his fault, if he had held his tongue and waited then most of them would still be alive. While that same perk would let him erase the memories if he wanted to, Calvin resolved himself to live with those memories. It would be too easy to start erasing anything unpleasant and not learn from his mistakes.
And he would learn. He swore to himself that this would never happen again. He would do everything he could to get stronger, smarter, faster, and anything else that would help him. This would be the last time that Calvin would be the cause of innocent loss of life. He may not go out of his way to help every person he came across, but he would no longer act without considering the consequences.
With a renewed sense of purpose, he endured everything the Goa'uld could do to him. He counted down the days until finally the world faded out for the last time and as it did, he swore that if he ever came back to the Stargate world the Goa'uld would regret it.
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In the late 19th century Japan was in the midst of sweeping reforms. The previous feudal society that had persisted for as long as any could remember came to a swift end when a group of Imperial Loyalists moved to return power to the young Emperor Meiji.
While their original goal in doing so had been in part to prevent Western influence on Japanese culture, over the course of the war the might of Western weapons and technology proved itself incredibly valuable. By the end of the war opinions had changed, and they opened themselves to more Western influence while steadfastly holding to their traditional ideals.
In Calvin's original world this came in the form of guns and tactics unfamiliar to the samurai of Japan. However in the world he found himself now things were slightly different. Instead of the surplus American Civil War equipment that he was familiar with, they made use of a new branch of technology coming out of the resurgent British Empire: the power of steam.
With the rise of steam-power Japan found itself as a leading power in the world. Hundreds, if not thousands, of samurai and aspiring businessmen were sent to the West to learn everything they could about this new technology. When they returned they brought with them ideas and innovations that catapulted Japan ahead of the other world powers.
While they had to rely on imports for most of the coal needed to operate steam powered machinery it didn't take long for a solution to be found. The thing about steam is that it doesn't have to be generated by a coal-burning fire. In fact adding water to any sufficient heat source leads to its creation. Couple this with the fact that there is an active volcano in the middle of the country and you find yourself with a quickly established national power grid.
Electricity acted as a catalyst to help the Japanese develop even more technologies, since it too can be used to create steam. Now Calvin considered that a bit of a waste, creating electricity to create more steam to then power things. He couldn't argue with the results though.
By the middle of the 20th century Japan was one of the largest powers in the world, only a couple of other countries able to keep up. There had been a push in the earlier part of the century for expansion, but the Japanese found themselves content with their lands and keeping their identity intact.
It was this world that Calvin, now called Karubin by the people around him, found himself in. He was a lowly blacksmith's apprentice in one of the smaller provinces of the country. The old man, Takemura, trained him day and night in the arts of steel, brass, and copper.
Even with the rapid advancement of technology the Japanese refused to lose the traditions that had made them a unique culture. While the samurai were abolished as a societal class, they remained as a revered military body, usually seen guarding the Emperor or similar high-ranking officials. Most of the military used the more modern weapons and tactics, but the samurai simply adapted theirs to the changing times.
Because of this Calvin was taught how to forge a sword the 'proper' way. In the same manner as was done hundreds of years ago he folded layer after layer of steel together to create gleaming blades of varying lengths. Katana, wakizashi, tanto, naginata, and nodachi. He learned to make them all.
The advancing knowledge of material science led to sharper and more durable swords, making the samurai even more effective on the battlefield. Their armor was backed by advanced structural mechanics, the very design serving to reinforce the armor and redirect blows.
He was also taught a hundred different ways to form metals of all kinds. Blacksmith's were responsible for making some of the most important and delicate pieces for the ever increasing number of steam-powered machines in the country. Most people simply felt better knowing that the small piece of metal that is keeping them alive was made by a skilled and highly trained craftsman instead of simply cut by a machine.
It was this emphasis on quality over quantity that kept Japan on top. For every hundred soldiers another country could send at them, they would answer with a single samurai and there was a very good chance the samurai would win. Their ships were faster and could hit harder than any other Navy. No one made any sincere attempts to attack the Japanese any more, and with the added pressure they could bring to political and trade discussions they didn't have to settle for bad deals.
But they never sought to expand beyond their reach. Instead of coveting others, they truly seemed to appreciate everything they had. During his time among this fascinating culture Calvin felt he learned to be honest with himself and not try to be something he's not. It seemed like a simple lesson, but it was one that very few actually took to heart. He couldn't remember any of the other settings in this Jump, if he had even done them yet, but he was regretting not having longer in this one.
The only real downside to his time in this setting was the blacksmith's other apprentice, Yoshinobu. He was every bit as skilled as Calvin was, he was probably even better, but for some reason he seemed intent on proving he was the best of the two. No matter what they were doing, Yoshinobu had to show that he was better. For the most part Calvin just played along and let himself be 'shown up'. It was the easiest way to deal with the annoyance.
For this year of his life Calvin enjoyed a peaceful existence. When he wasn't training in the art of hammering metal he was free to do as he liked. He enjoyed wandering the country, the steam trains crossing the land made it fairly easy to see places when he had a couple of free days.
It was amazing to see the difference in the technology from what he knew should be the norm around this time in history. There were massive ships in the waters around the island, the slower of them had large water wheels like one might see on the rivers of Louisiana.
In the skies overhead large zeppelins floated, most of them ferrying passengers or cargo into or out of the country. All around the cities was shiny brass and steel. The bicycle food vendors were his personal favorites, they were like food trucks that were always on the move.
While it was easy to see the influence of Western culture, the Japanese kept their distinct cultural identity alive. It wasn't uncommon to see the shiny brass fittings of Victorian design worn over a formal kimono. For every metal and stone building run by steam-powered electricity there was a shrine built using traditional materials and techniques. The design stylings that were so uniquely Japanese remained ingrained in everything they made.
All in all his time in this beautiful world was relaxing and interesting.
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To say Calvin's time in the world of street racing and crime was eventful would be an understatement. Even trying as he did to stay away from the main characters he seemed to always be involved in some crazy adventure. Admittedly, the high speed car chases were kind of fun. Mostly in a 'HOLY SHIT' way though, rather than anything good.
This wasn't helped by the fact that he was stuck in the body of a healthy and active 60 year old. He could certainly do without the constant aches and pains, not to mention the time he broke his hip getting out of his car after a race. At least no one begrudged him his afternoon naps, when they weren't interrupting them to shoot at him at least.
Plus the whole time he was there he was followed around by this teenaged punk that thought he was God's gift to street racing. Of course Calvin inevitably got dragged in to all the stupid situations the kid got himself into and more often than not was the only reason the kid walked out alive. He would not be missed after Calvin left, he had no desire to see the stupid brat ever again.
All in all, he was more than happy to be moving on. The drawbacks may have been self-inflicted, but man did they suck. Lesson learned. Be careful taking too many at once, when they start stacking it gets exponentially more inconvenient very quickly.
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Going from being told he would go on the journey of a lifetime - hell, literally hundreds of lifetimes - to working a mind-numbing series of minimum wage jobs was a bit of a disappointment. If it wasn't for his shiny new trust fund and upscale-ish home, Calvin might have thought he was back in his original world.
'Just one year of this,' was his recurring thought throughout his time in this setting. He did his best to put up with the soul-crushing grind that is the modern workplace and focus on the wonderful adventures he knew lay ahead.
Fortunately the year passed without any major complications, save for the one asshat that always seemed to swoop in to take Calvin's job. Guess that recurring enemy drawback was putting in some work. It was finally off to whatever came next.
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Calvin received a first hand reminder that humans can be awful. The entire year he spent wandering the desolate wasteland searching for food, water, and Denzel he was beset by raiders and scavengers at every turn. Even when he tried to be nice and help people they almost always tried to kill him or steal his shit.
Or eat him. Fucking cannibals.
After the first few times he decided staying the fuck away from everything on two legs was the best option. Especially since he only had one functioning eye and resources were incredibly scarce. How the hell Eli survived this hell-hole completely blind was beyond him.
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Even with his common sense hampered for this part of the jump, it didn't take Calvin more than a couple of days to put an end to the main plot. Seriously, just asking a couple of questions was enough to see both of the idiots investigated and arrested before they could hatch their big plan.
After that it was a year of sitting back and enjoying the fame of being a hero in a small town. Finally though it was fine to move on.
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Of course he would be put into a big superhero setting, one of the tamer ones even, and not be given any powers. So much for taking a perk to make sure he had secondary powers to make his main ones work properly and safely. That really came in handy to make his zero powers just that much more versatile.
Calvin did the smart thing for a man without powers and stayed as far away from crime and crime fighting as he could. The universe, and his chosen drawbacks, disagreed. Every so often, depending on how far Calvin could run in the meantime, an obsessed lunatic calling himself 'Banana-Man' would show up and try to 'defeat' him.
The first encounter they had was completely random. Calvin had been walking down the street on his way to see the Empire State Building (he had never been and it looked interesting) when a man in a bright yellow, skin-tight banana costume ran into him. The 'Banana-Man' was then arrested by police shortly afterward, having been fleeing them after robbing a liquor store. He swore vengeance on Calvin, saying the only reason he was caught was because of their collision. From then on, no matter where Calvin went or what happened to 'Banana-Man', he always came back.
In Paris he fell off the Eiffel Tower trying to push Calvin off.
At Stonehenge he was crushed by one of the stones falling over.
On a river tour of the Nile, a giant anaconda snapped out of the water at him and dragged him overboard.
Again, and again he seemed to be killed or gone for good, only to turn back up trying some stupid plot to kill Calvin. Every single time he just wound up looking even dumber than the last. Sadly the same could be said for Calvin himself as after every attack the press cornered him and he managed to say or do something stupid every time.
Suffice it to say, not the Super Hero adventure Calvin was hoping for.
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The less said about Calvin's time in the land of 'Sparkly Vampires Have Feelings Too' the better. Forks sucked, Bella was dumb, Edward was a pedophile, Jacob needed anger management, and Charlie really did try to be the best Dad he could (he just wasn't very good at it).
Fingers crossed he would never have to see any of them ever again.
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With a grunt Calvin mounted his horse, settling himself into the armored saddle and steering the animal into formation. The last year had been a series of long marches broken up by brief periods of intense fighting. He had found himself thrust straight into the third most remembered war in the long timeline provided by Tolkien's epic fantasy series. Not the Battle of Five Armies, and not the War of the Ring. Instead it was the precursor to the latter, the War of the Last Alliance.
It was during this war that Sauron made his attempt to conquer the Free People of Middle-earth using the power of the One Ring, almost as a dark parallel to the war that would be fought thousands of years from now. He brought with him the armies of Orcs, Easterlings, Haradrim, Variags, and Nazgul. Standing against the forces of dark was an alliance formed of Elves, Men, and Dwarves.
Calvin, known in this world as Calivor, was one of the hundreds of thousands of Men marching under the banner of King Elendil the Fair, High King of the Dunedain. Along with them marched the Elves of Lindon, Lothlorien, Rivendell, and the Woodlands, all nominally under the command of Gil-galad who was High King of the Elves of the West. Not everyone in the Elven contingent was happy with Gil-galad's commands, but for now they would follow.
Cal's knowledge of this period of Middle-earth's history was a little shaky, and considering he had a perfect memory that was saying something. Honestly he had only once or twice dug into the deep well of information that was the Lord of the Rings lore. There was just so much that it was hard to take it all in, let alone find the time to do so. Other than the major players, things he had since learned in the setting anyway, he didn't know much about this particular war.
What he did know was that they were due to ride into battle with the rising of the sun, assaulting the open plains before the Black Gates of Mordor. They were likely to face stiff defence from the forces of Sauron, there were even whispers of the Lord of the Black Land himself making an appearance. For now, Cal could only prepare himself for the bloody battle to come.
As he tightened the straps of his shield on his arm and checked that his sword belt was positioned properly the call to march finally came. All around him the sounds of hundreds of thousands of bodies moving in unison was near deafening. Calivor would be riding with the heavy cavalry on the right most flank of their army. Once the infantry engaged, he and his fellow riders would harass the edges of the opposing lines to break up their formations and sow chaos in the ranks.
The massive army, one of the largest gathered in the history of Middle-earth (a record that would remain unbroken if Cal's memory was right), moved with all the inexorable force of a glacier. Slow and steady, but with a building momentum that didn't bode well for any obstacles in their way. All of them united in the single purpose of breaking through the defenses of Mordor and stopping Sauron's plans to conquer all of Middle-earth.
Unfortunately, while they were all joined by this purpose, not everyone agreed on the methods. From the far front of the army, too far away for Cal to hear properly, came a pair of voices. He couldn't make out the words, but the effect was obvious.
A large portion of the Elven contingent of their army began picking up speed. There were clearly two distinct groups, each led by a figure in exquisite armor. As their respective flag-bearers moved to join the charge Cal finally had an idea of what was happening. The flags of Greenwood and Lorien raced out from the larger army, leading the two forces. It seemed that the two Elven Kings had decided to use their own battle plans. Both Oropher and Amdir, the Kings of Greenwood and Lothlorien respectively, had been chafing under Gil-galad since they and their troops had joined the army.
Hurried orders were relayed amongst the remaining forces to keep everyone in line and shuffle a few things to adjust for the change in circumstances. With nearly half of their Elven comrades rushing headlong into battle the army's commander's had to quickly adjust plans. It was because of this that Calivor found himself at the very front of the right flank, ready to aid the Elves or break up the enemy line for the infantry behind him.
The gathered army could only watch as very quickly the two Elven units were dealt with. They put up a decent showing, but they were severely outnumbered. King Oropher and the Elves of Greenwood were wiped out, nearly to the man. Only a scant few survived to seek shelter behind the lines of the main army. King Amdir and his troops were likewise routed, their remnants driven into the Dead Marshes. They would likely be hunted and slaughtered like animals.
Before Cal had any time to process the results of that ill thought out charge, the approaching horde of enemies prompted the order to finally be given. With a loud roar the forces of Men, Elves, and Dwarves moved forward to meet their foes. To either side of him the thundering hooves of the calvary's mounts seemed to match pace with his racing heart. In a clamor of steel and screams the two lines met.
Everything quickly devolved into a blur. Calivor moved with precision, just as he had been trained to. He blocked incoming blows with his shield and used it to push his opponents off balance; they didn't have a chance to catch themselves as his sword lashed out at arms, legs, and necks. Each swing was directed to kill or maim, this was no time for mercy and none of his enemies would give him any.
For what felt like hours they fought. At some point Cal's mount was cut from under him by a pair of orcs. Swiftly rolling to his feet, he managed to parry the first orc's sword and slice through its neck. The second orc made to charge at him but was intercepted by a flash of silver and gold. After the body hit the ground Cal could see that an Elf had stepped in to aid him. They only spared each other a nod in respect before they both leapt back into battle.
Inch by inch the forces of good pushed forward. They paid in blood for every step they took forward, but they made sure the enemy paid more. When the battle started there had likely been close to a million combatants in total. By the time they pushed through the Black Gates that number was reduced by more than half.
Suddenly a hush came over the battle. On all sides the fighting slowed to a stop and the fighters seemed to pull away from each other, drifting back to form lines with their fellows. After a moment's confusion Cal realized what was happening.
Striding straight down the center of the enemy armies was a figure clad in thick black armor. It's helmet was spiked and it carried a malevolence in its posture. There was no mistaking who this was. The leader of the forces of Mordor, Sauron. He had a dozen different names in as many languages, all with fitting descriptors for what he was.
Pure and unrepentant evil.
Sauron dragged a large, spiked mace behind him and every step seemed to echo over the battlefield. With a start Cal realized that the evil sorcerer was headed straight for his portion of the army. Once the black-clad monster broke through the last of his own soldiers he came to a stop, head turning as if looking for something amongst the forces of light.
Calivor made the mistake of looking directly into the slits where Sauron's eyes would be and found himself paralyzed. Not by any spell that he could tell, but the sheer feeling of evil and hatred that came off the figure in front of him nearly stopped his heart.
Before he could even think straight there was a flash of movement, a sense of weightlessness, and then a cascade of pain. Cal found himself sprawled against a cliff face several dozen yards from where he had started. His right arm was gone, both of his legs were bent in odd directions, and the front of his chest plate was caved in. As his vision began fading he realized that a single swing of Sauron's mace was all it took to shatter the front lines of their army. And Cal's body in the process. Finally he succumbed to his wounds and embraced the encroaching darkness.
Fantasy Setting Failed…
Probing Jumper Desires…
Restart Setting? NO!
Setting Restart Declined…
All Settings Complete…
Congratulations Jumper!
Enjoy Your New Adventure!
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Calvin shot awake in bed sweating and panting. He looked around the room and found himself back in the Fortress of Jumper. He could remember everything he had done for the last ten years, all the good and all the bad. After a deep breath, he swung his legs to the floor.
A blinking light in the corner of his eye caught his attention. A familiar tablet sat on the small table next to his bed. When he picked it up the screen turned on and he was posed with a simple question. One that felt anything but simple after everything he'd gone through.
Next Jump?