Stepping up to the podium as the applause died away, Roy smiled at the assembled reporters, aides, and various members of the public who had crowded into the city hall meeting room, the largest in the building.
"Hello, everyone," he said, his hands on the sides of the lectern in a posture that showed welcome openness, combined with confidence.
He hadn't studied crowd psychology for nothing.
"Welcome to Brockton Bay, for those of you who I haven't seen before, and it's nice to see familiar faces for those who I have." He looked around the room, meeting the eyes of several reporters. To the side, he heard a very faint snort from Emily Piggot, who was sitting in a chair a few feet away. He suppressed a smile at her attitude, knowing how much she disliked the public-facing side of politics.
"As you are aware, last night our newest local Parahuman heroic group, The Family, in association with both the PRT and the Brockton Bay police department, raided the Archer's Bridge Merchants gang's headquarters. One hundred and nine members of the gang were apprehended and placed into custody with no serious injuries on the part of the gang members and no injuries at all to any of the attending personnel. A very large amount of evidence was seized, including documentation that I am told will lead to the shutting down of narcotics supply for much of the East Coast."
Again, he waited for the ripple of applause to subside. Many of the people present looked very pleased.
"There was one fatality, the Parahuman Tinker known as Squealer, who was found during the post-action clean up by the BBPD. It has been established that she was killed by gunshot, in an apparent Merchant execution, either just before or during the commencement of the raid. No arrests have yet been made over her murder but evidence was found implicating the same weapon used in previous Merchant crimes."
"Following the collection of evidence and when the PRT and the BBPD were satisfied they had thoroughly swept the premises, Raptaur of the Family destroyed the building completely, therefore denying any fugitive gang members a place to hide. Subsequent to the raid, a further nineteen gang members have been apprehended either by the BBPD, the PRT, or various independent capes. We believe that there are, at most, some forty to fifty such members still at large, although there is also considerable evidence to suggest that the bulk of them have left the city entirely."
He paused to sip some water, while everyone waited, a dozen cameras following him closely.
"With one action, a serious thorn in the side of the inhabitants of this city has been removed. I, and the city council, wish to publicly announce our gratitude to the Family, the PRT, and the police officers who have put their lives at risk for so long against nearly overwhelming odds to keep the citizens of this city safe. I am sure that everyone who lives here feels the same. I am aware that when our new reptilian friends made their debut only a few short weeks ago there was a certain amount of disquiet, but since then they have shown, again and again, that they only wish the best for us all. Their aid to the DWU has been invaluable, as well as key to the redevelopment plan, and this latest operation shows that they are prepared to take more direct action if required."
He looked around at the crowd, then directly into the cameras.
"As both Ianthe and Saurial announced last night, on balance the Family would prefer to remain neutral, an attitude I personally can understand and appreciate. But, they also have a definite point past which they will act to prevent harm to their friends, as we have now seen in a very graphic and impressive fashion. We, as a city, should feel pleased that they count the inhabitants of Brockton Bay among those friends. Our city has a uniquely large per-capita number of Parahuman inhabitants, which for far too long was tilted in favor of the criminal element. It would appear that this balance is finally shifting towards the other side of the scale."
"About time!" someone in the crowd shouted, causing a certain amount of laughter.
"Indeed, my friend," he smiled. "I feel the same." He glanced at a couple of the councilors who were arrayed behind him, then at the PRT Director. "After consultation with the council, the city administration has come to the conclusion that we should, as a mark of thanks, arrange some form of award for the Family members who put themselves forward to help deal with the Merchant problem, not to mention all the other things they've done since they arrived here. We also feel that it is time we honored New Wave in the same manner, something that is overdue. Members of that team, a home-grown group who have fought for us and the world itself against the Endbringers numerous times, once again stepped forward to help during the initial stages of the redevelopment plan."
A wave of applause ran through the crowd when he paused, making him smile again. When it stopped, he nodded. "Thank you for your support in this matter. No disrespect is intended to the PRT, the Wards, or the Protectorate members who are stationed here, many of whom are also local heroes, but I am sure that even they recognize that there is a large difference between an independent group and a federally supported agency." He glanced at Director Piggot again, a couple of the cameras turning to point at her. She nodded a little, her face expressionless.
"Details of a suitable award will be discussed at the next council meeting, which takes place on the sixteenth of next month, and will be announced after that. Public input and suggestions are welcomed via the city council website in the normal manner."
Sipping some more water, he put the glass down, then leaned forward a tiny, carefully calculated amount. "That's the end of my prepared speech," he smiled. "I'm throwing the floor open for questions. Please keep them to the subject in hand, and if possible one at a time. We have plenty of time, folks."
There was an immediate shouting match between the various reporters, which was entirely expected. He smiled again, then pointed at one woman. "You, please. May we hear your question?"
The others subsided while the woman stood up, holding a notebook. "Mayor Christner, has the death of the Tinker Squealer been definitely identified as occurring at the hands of the Merchants?"
"For the answer to that, I will defer to Director Piggot of the PRT, who have been handling the autopsy and investigation in conjunction with the BBPD crime scene processing unit." He turned to Emily, who leaned forward to speak into the microphone in front of her.
"The BBPD CSI unit has positively linked the recovered rounds from the body of Squealer, a Parahuman Tinker, to those fired from a weapon known to be in the hands of the Archer's Bridge Merchants and used in the commission of at least two previous serious crimes," she said in a calm voice. "The weapon itself has not been recovered as of yet. The time of death, the location, and the circumstances all point firmly at one or more individuals from the gang being behind the crime. Questioning of the arrested suspects is underway but so far we haven't found anyone we believe was the one who pulled the trigger. It's entirely possible that the gunman, or woman, has made their escape for the moment."
"But you're certain it was the Merchants who shot her?" the reporter pushed.
"Yes." Director Piggot's voice left no room for doubt.
"Thank you, Ma'am," the woman said, sitting down. "Mr Mayor."
"Next question?" he asked, looking around. Once again he picked a reporter.
"What does the city feel about the announcement by the PRT that the Family is a fully authorized Heroic organization with Protectorate and Guild associate status?" the man asked.
"Pleased," he grinned. The man chuckled. "Honestly, all of us are unsurprised by the announcement," he went on. "I would suggest that it was only a matter of time. While they are at pains to point out that they are mostly interested in keeping to themselves and getting on with work, rather than throwing their not inconsiderable weight around, it was obvious from the start that they are much more on the heroic side of things than otherwise. Saurial, for example, has single-handedly reduced street crime by an enormous amount in the last couple of months. She has said several times she never goes looking for crime, which does appear to be entirely truthful, but she finds it even so." Several people laughed quite a lot at that.
"But she never fails to deal with it, when she comes across it, quickly, efficiently, and with a remarkable lack of violence or damage. She has also saved a significant number of people from car accidents, fires, and other such things. Not to mention being perfectly prepared to lend a hand whenever and wherever required. Her sisters and cousins are the same. Raptaur also goes out of her way to deal with crime when she sees it. Both Metis and Ianthe have healed a number of people, Ianthe has helped Panacea in Brockton General at least twice, we all know what Kaiju is doing..." He grinned at the laughter. "Not that you can miss it. No, I think we can agree that despite their protestations to the contrary, they are definitely heroes. Unconventional ones, true enough, but real all the same."
"Thank you, sir," the reporter, one from a local paper, said with a nod of gratitude.
"You're welcome. Next question, please."
Internally, he was very satisfied with the way things were going. There was no sign that either the ABB or the E88 were likely to start trouble with the demise of the other major gang, there were a number of reports which showed that a lot of criminals in the city, and in fact the entire state, were in shock and going very quiet in case the Family noticed them, and the public response was basically, 'Thank god, why didn't someone do this years ago?' It all seemed to be working out nicely.
Hopefully this state of affairs would continue. Although he wondered, not without a certain amount of fatalistic worry, when the idiot Skidmark would put in an appearance again. It seemed too much to hope that he'd take the hint and stay away.
He wasn't that smart.
Oh well. With any luck, he'd stay out of the way for a while even so and let things settle down.
Picking the next question, he settled in to answer it, knowing that this would go on for a while, but pleased how positive all the questions were.
Kevin, eating an apple, wandered over to the other side of the workshop, moving around various left-over projects from their exploits over the years. Giving his bipedal mech an affectionate pat as he went past it, idly thinking he needed to check it over sometime soon, he stopped to watch Randall, who was staring at a video playing on his computer. It seemed to be some old Chinese martial arts movie, subtitled in rather bad English.
His friend was intently watching the screen, while the protagonist of the movie beat the hell out of waves of opponents with a level of skill that was slightly scary, and as far as Kevin could see, mostly real. The other man was smiling in a weird way as he watched, unblinking and focused.
Leaning on the remains of a Mario Kart car, which had been cannibalized for parts a year or so ago, Kevin waited for the video to end. He was just finishing his apple when Randall reached out and clicked the mouse, stopping the playback.
Turning to him, his old friend grinned.
"I know Kung Fu," he said in a whisper.
Kevin raised an eyebrow.
"Really?"
"Well, I would need to practice on someone, but yes, I think I can probably do everything you can see in that movie," the other man smirked. "I can't believe how much more effective my ability is now. I need to find something else to try. But in the last day I've learned kung fu, bricklaying, plumbing, light aircraft maintenance, basket-weaving, piano tuning, banjo playing, and advanced welding. Just from watching instructional videos. It's much faster than it was and a lot more in depth now, too."
"Basket-weaving?" Kevin asked, mystified.
Randall shrugged. "The girl in the video was cute, so I watched it."
With a laugh, the Tinker shook his head. "Ah. Fair enough."
"How has your experimentation gone?" Randall asked, getting up and moving to a clear area in the somewhat cluttered room, then starting the movements of some martial arts practice kata that Kevin had never seen before, slowly and carefully.
"Incredibly well," he smiled. "I got the hologram projector working perfectly. I understand exactly how it works, but I still don't think I could actually make a new one. But, that said, I can repair this one, and I bet I can help Dragon reverse engineer it. And I've also repaired half a dozen more old devices. Including..." He paused dramatically, while his friend stopped and studied him.
"Including…?" Randall prompted.
"Including that suit of Halo power armor."
Randall stared, then began grinning like an idiot. "You got the Mjolnir armor working again?"
"I did indeed. Remember the power unit melted down? I fixed it, replaced the burned out wiring, and even found what the original fault was in the first place and fixed that too. It passes all the diagnostics now, everything's in the green. I have a feeling it'll be completely reliable from now on."
They looked at each other, then started laughing. "Oh, my god," Randall finally said when they calmed down. "The things we could do… Those girls are unbelievable! How the hell did they do this? And what did they actually do, for that matter? How did they make our powers work so much better?"
"I haven't got a clue," Kevin shrugged. "We need to go talk to them and see if this was what they were expecting."
"Fine by me." Randall looked at his watch. "They'll probably be out of school by now, going to the DWU. Let's grab some more pizzas and head over in a few hours. I want to practice a little first."
"OK. I still need to put the armor back together, it's all over the bench at the moment." Kevin headed back to his workbench while the other man resumed his katas, slowly but surely speeding up, smiling to himself with satisfaction.
Pressing the starter button, Linda listened to the loud clunk that resulted as the main solenoid fired. It was followed by a crackle, then a whine from the large DC starter motor as it reluctantly freed up. The main gear didn't engage, so she let go of the button and climbed down from the cab, moving around to the open engine compartment. Picking up a small ball-peen hammer, she carefully whacked the starter in a specific place, once, then returned to the cab.
This time when she pressed the button there was a crunch and the engine began slowly turning over. Looking over her shoulder she checked the twin exhaust stacks for the huge diesel were still connected to the vent hoses that ran through the roof of the workshop, via a very large extractor fan. Around the near ends of the hoses she could see puffs of white smoke.
A moment later the engine coughed a few times, emitted a thunderous backfire, and rumbled into life. Black smoke leaked out of a couple of places in the old exhaust, but she ignored that in favor of watching the various gauges on the instrument panel. Revving it very gently as it warmed up, she waited for the engine temperature to hit the correct level, then released the throttle. It settled down to a contented, albeit very loud, grumble, the entire seventy-five ton machine quivering with life.
She smiled, looking over to Kadir, who was watching her with a neutral expression from the workshop floor about twenty feet away. After a moment, he nodded, before making a hand signal to cut the engine. Linda went through the shut-down process and a little later the echos died away in the large garage.
"Excellent, Linda," the depot manager said as he came over, smiling up at her just a little. He wasn't very expressive, she'd rapidly worked out, seldom either looking either particularly happy or particularly unhappy, so a faint smile from him was beaming from most people. "I'm impressed. I didn't expect that you'd get it running that fast."
"I got lucky, whoever was last to use it must have known it wasn't going to be used again for a while and put some effort into mothballing the thing," she said as she swung herself down from the cab to stand on one of the huge tracks, wiping her hands on a rag. "I had to pull a few parts off the other one, which is in much worse condition, though. This still needs the hydraulics cleaned out and a few spare parts, but I think I can modify some of the stuff from the D10 over there to fit. We have plenty of spares for that one. The transmission needs some work as well but that's not hard, just time consuming."
"Very good. All right, go ahead with that. What about the second unit?"
Jumping down, she turned to look at the other old dozer, green paint and rust competing for space on the chassis. A little dubiously, she replied, "I can probably get the engine running in a couple of days, but the hydraulics are completely shot. Water in the lines has rusted the fuck out of everything. It would all need to be completely replaced."
"I see." He studied it, then looked at her again. "Recommendations?"
"If it was me, I'd take the engine and transmission out for spares for this one, then scrap the rest," she said after thinking it over. "But I'll keep working on it if you want."
Her new, and immediate, boss thought for a couple of seconds. "No. I agree, it's not worth the time and effort. I'll tell Danny that we think it's scrap, only good for parts. Tomorrow, get Ben and Alice to help you strip it of anything you want, then we'll put it into the pile to get cut up." He nodded to her. "A very good first day. Thank you for your work."
"It was my pleasure," she replied, feeling remarkably happy about the praise. "I'll finish up here, then my shift is over, unless you need me for anything else."
He shook his head. "Nothing that can't wait. Go and play with your workshop." The small smile came back for a moment. "I can tell you want to."
She chuckled slightly. "Is it that obvious?"
"Only to another engineer. I expect great things from you, Miss Morgan." The smile grew fractionally. "You have a gift. Use it well." With another nod, he turned and left, heading for a group working on one of the larger excavators. She watched him go, wondering exactly what he meant by that, then went back to work with a shrug.
She was certainly having fun, and it was nice to be thanked for her work, rather than screamed at by drug addled idiots.
Closing the front door, Vicky headed for the stairs, only to find herself intercepted by her mother who came out of the living room. The older woman stood, arms crossed and a severe expression on her face. "Um… Hi, Mom," the blonde said uncertainly.
"Hello, Victoria," Carol Dallon replied, making Vicky wince. She knew that tone, it heralded a lecture.
"Do you have something you want to tell me?" her mother added meaningfully.
Looking innocent, she shook her head, smiling. "I don't think so, no."
Carol held up a phone, the screen showing a picture Vicky recognized with a sinking feeling. "Oh. That."
"Explain."
"I… got distracted..." she sighed, not wanting to go into exactly what she'd been distracted by. She really wasn't sure that mentioning any of her private theories to her mother of all people was wise, considering Carol's overall attitude. She'd mellowed a lot in the last month, ever since the big blow-up with Amy and the following drunken lecture with Aunt Sarah, and Vicky had no wish to be the cause of any backsliding.
"By what?" was the inevitable question.
"Um..." She thought quickly. "I saw someone have a minor accident on the road and while I was checking that they were OK, the building got in the way," the blonde lied with a straight face. "Sorry. I should have watched where I was going."
Carol glared at her. "Yes, you should have. If you see something like that, slow down if you're going to watch it. Or, ideally, stop. You have a responsibility to use your powers in a sensible manner, flying through someone's window is not something that gives a good impression. Either of you personally, or of New Wave in general. I have had a very difficult phone conversation with the building manager over that little incident. Not to mention the entire internet has seen it by now."
Vicky sighed internally as her mother wound up for a good rant. This one was going to take a while, but at least it might take her mind off the lizard conspiracy.
Although she wondered how Carol had found out about it, she didn't look at PHO very much.
Getting out of her truck as Taylor closed the roller doors, Amy stepped back when her friend came over and quickly generated a cover for the vehicle. "I'll talk to Dad about getting access to one of the nearby empty units for a garage," Taylor said when she'd finished. "The vehicle depot is pretty busy at this time of day and we really need somewhere to hide your truck when you're here. Although I have a feeling that at least half the people in the DWU know the truth about the Family anyway, or a lot of it."
Amy smiled a little. "Best to keep up appearances and good security practices, though."
"Yep. There's an empty building on the other side of the courtyard that would probably do," Taylor replied. She was currently in her Saurial form, having changed when they'd driven through an area they knew was free of surveillance on the way here, but wearing casual clothing fitted to her reptilian body, not the usual armor. And for once not the trench-coat she seemed to like.
Walking over to the workroom, Amy unlocked the door, pulling it open. They'd spent some time the previous day moving all the computers and other equipment that was on the long bench in the main room down towards the rear by about twenty-five feet, then enlarging the workroom by the same amount, as a result of Linda's upgrade showing that Amy needed more space. Looking at the ceiling as she turned the lights on Amy mused that they would have to get the electrical guys to install some more lights since the new extension didn't have any, but it wasn't urgent considering her improved vision. To her reengineered eyes the room was well lit, and in her 'Ianthe' body it was as bright as day, of course.
The rear storage room had also been enlarged a little, to allow for more bioconstructs, since she had plans along those lines, but they were going to need to make a much larger storage area eventually since some of those plans lead to quite significant constructions. She hadn't worked out the details yet, though, so it could wait.
Picking up her container of healing symbiotes, she checked them carefully, pleased they were completely intact. The new tweaks didn't show any degradation at all, although it would take more than a few days of storage to really show up. But she was pretty sure she'd cracked that problem, they were probably more or less indefinitely stable now.
Soon she was in her alternate form, joining Taylor who was standing at the table, inspecting Vista's little spacial anomaly, which was still happily warping the fabric of the universe, hanging two feet off the surface. Taylor had moved it to be up against the wall and none of their recent visitors seemed to have noticed it, since it was a very subtle visual distortion unless your senses were either better than human or sensitive to such things.
"It's starting to degrade," her friend reported, glancing at her. "I was curious to see how long it would last. I think another two days at most. Not bad at all."
"I wonder when we'll see the kid again?" Amy asked with a smile.
"As soon as she can manage it, I think," Taylor grinned. "Poor Vista, she seems pretty bored with the Wards. I'm not surprised, from what she said they really try to keep her away from anything exciting."
"You mean dangerous."
"I stand by my description while acknowledging that yours is also valid," her friend snickered.
"It's not surprising, they're all about PR, and letting a cute blonde thirteen-year-old girl on the front lines of some major incident is probably a PR nightmare in their view," Amy suggested. "Even if she is one of the most powerful, experienced, and dangerous capes in the city."
"Probably true," Taylor nodded, going over to one of the fridges and pulling out a couple of cans, tossing her one and opening the other for herself. "I wonder if they actually have any idea how dangerous she really is? Even before our little teaching session?"
"No idea, but I wouldn't be surprised to know the answer was no," Amy said with a shrug. Popping the tab with one claw she drank the contents of the can, then crushed the container into a ball and tossed it back to Taylor, who snapped it out of the air with a quick move of her head and ate it. With a grin, she suggested, "Let's go and find Linda. I wonder where Lisa is?" The Metis construct was in standby in the store room and there was no sign of their friend.
"Don't know," Taylor mused, finishing her own drink and disposing of the can in the same way. "Probably with Dad or something. She'll turn up."
Leaving the building, they locked up, then headed over to the vehicle depot. Taylor had a quick word with Kadir, the guy who ran the place, then came back to her. "She's over at the other workshop," she reported.
Soon they were entering the large room, both of them looking around with interest. It was much like the BBFO office had been, before the upgrades to it, only larger with with a pair of large hydraulic vehicle lifts at one end, inspection pits in the floor, and a lot of random items of machinery lying around the place. They found Linda walking through a series of stacks of old metal parts, making notes on a pad.
"Hi, Linda," Taylor said. The woman looked up, then smiled.
"Hello, Saurial," she replied. "And Ianthe as well."
"Everything going all right with you? Nothing fallen off or anything?" Taylor asked with a grin. The brunette's smile widened.
"No, no problems to report. I was just looking through all this stuff to see if there was anything worth keeping." She flipped through her notepad. "Not much, a few engines that are repairable, a couple of very good transmissions, some tools… most of it really is scrap."
"OK." Taylor looked around, as did Amy. "No problem. One of the spur lines runs right past the rear door to this place, we can get an empty rail car here and shove all this stuff into it in about an hour and a half. Most of it in on pallets so it's easy. Then I can line it with something and fix the floor too. The guys got all the lights and power sorted out?"
"Yes," the Tinker replied, looking up at the ceiling. "All new fittings, the three phase feed has been replaced, and there are power points all around the room. It's ideal once some space had been cleared."
"Good. Let's get that done, then we can go back to the office and talk about the next phase. Have you made any decisions?"
The woman looked a little unsure. "I have some ideas. I think I need to discuss it with you guys and find out which ones are practical." Both of them looked at Amy, who shrugged.
"Almost anything you can think of is practical. We can experiment."
"All right, I guess that sounds… fucking weird, actually, but worth a shot." Linda grinned, as did the other two. "Where's Metis?"
"No idea at the moment," Amy said. "She'll turn up sooner or later."
"Right, then, go and open the back door, I'll go and round up a couple of guys with forklifts to help, Ianthe, you go and steal one of the rail cars and push it around back, OK?" Taylor said with a firm nod. "Let's get this done."
"Sounds like a plan." Amy nodded too. "See you in a minute." She turned around and left the building, jogging across the yard to the scrapping area and the people working there. After a short discussion, she was happily pushing several tons of empty rail car back down the line, humming to herself and wondering if her sister had cheered up yet.
Dennis stared at his friend, then the thing on the bench.
Chris pressed a button. There were some odd sounds, clicks, clunks, a definite sizzle, then a series of whining sounds, before a slot on the side of the machine opened and a perfectly sliced pepperoni pizza slid out the end of the machine. Chris shrugged helplessly at him as he looked back at the other boy. "An automatic pizza oven," Dennis stated.
"Apparently."
"Why?"
"I was hungry. I think." Chris looked somewhat confused. "I can't remember, to be honest."
Dennis reached out and picked up one of the perfectly cooked, utterly symmetrical slices and sniffed it. "It smells fine," he said.
"It is fine," Chris noted. "Completely edible. Armsmaster checked it, and the lab repeated the tests. It's totally safe. And very tasty."
The red-head cautiously tried the slice, chewing in a contemplative manner. "Damn, that's good pizza." He watched as the machine made another one at the press of the button, the process taking no more than thirty seconds. "Where does it get the ingredients?"
"I have no idea."
Looking at his friend, Dennis raised both eyebrows. "You… don't know?" he asked slowly. Chris shrugged.
"No idea at all. It just… makes pizza. Perfectly, every time. It's not even plugged into anything."
"Shit. That's… both very impressive and a little scary." He ate the rest of the slice. "Does it do other types of pizza?"
"Pepperoni, chicken and mushroom, with or without jalapenos, barbecue beef, and something with anchovies and shrimp on it." Chris looked mildly puzzled. "I don't even like anchovies."
"Assault does."
"I know, he's been in here three times in the last hour for one. And offered to buy the thing from me."
Dennis laughed for a moment. He walked around the machine, which even when it wasn't making pizza made a faint sizzling sound and gave off the smell of fresh dough. "Incredible. You could put the local pizza places out of business if you could make another one."
"I'm scared to even try taking it apart to see if I can work out how it does… that." Chris looked nervous. "Armsmaster tried to take the cover off. It bit him."
Staring in bemusement, Dennis echoed, "Bit him?" in an incredulous voice. The Tinker nodded.
"It growled first. Then when he put his hand in the output slot, to get some leverage, it nearly took his hand off. He wasn't happy."
"Not surprised. Why the hell did you make an anthropophagic pizza oven?"
Chris shrugged again.
"Your guess is as good as mine. But if you think that's weird, look at the doughnut maker..."
They turned to peer at the other weird machine, which was making a sound that was very disturbingly like a happy cat, and extruding chocolate-coated doughnuts into a box, one every fifteen seconds or so. Dennis cautiously approached the device, picking up one of the pastries and sniffing it. "Custard?"
"Yep."
"Why?"
"Are they done yet?" an excited voice said from the door, making them both turn to see Vista grinning at them. She spotted the pastry in his hand, dashing over and grabbing it, then taking a bite. Her face formed a huge smile. "Wow. These are incredible. Thanks, Chris," the girl said in a somewhat muffled voice. She grabbed the box, then vanished again, the door closing behind her.
Chris reached out and pressed a button, the machine gurgling into silence, except for a background hum that was so deep it was more felt than heard. They exchanged a glance.
"That's why."
"Oh god. Missy on a sugar rush," Dennis groaned, massaging his forehead. "Word of advice? Hide it. Now. Quickly, before she comes back."
After a moment, Chris nodded, picking the thing up and staggering with the weight, heading towards a heavily reinforced storage room, the door of which was slightly open. Dennis pulled it all the way open for him, watching as he put the anomalous food producer on a shelf.
"So you at least worked out your specialization, while you were idly making machines that produced impossible food?" he asked as his friend came out of the storage room and closed the door, locking it firmly.
Chris looked much happier. "Yes. Finally." He led the way over to a whiteboard, which was covered in sketches and equations. "I was lying in bed thinking about some observations I made after watching Saurial flying around, and doing some research..." he began, while Dennis sat on a nearby chair and listened with interest.