Forging ahead

by Jokiba

In 2008 a Brockton Bay University student working on his Mechanical Engineering degree and Parahuman Studies minor develops a drug problem due to stress. It is not what it looks like. Celestial Forge Fic

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Published:2021-06-27Updated:2022-03-05Words:134,489Chapters:47/?Comments:22Kudos:86Bookmarks:45Hits:12,327

Forging Ahead

Benvoli0

Summary:

In 2008 a Brockton Bay University student working on his Mechanical Engineering degree and Parahuman Studies minor develops a drug problem due to stress. It is not what it looks like. Celestial Forge Fic

Notes:

Inspired by Brockton's Celestial Forge by Lord Roustabout (Lord_Roustabout)

So with the help of some lovely people on the Celestial Forge Discord (Spiritual Liege, Aeon Slider, Fourmyle Circus, Xolsis and several others) I wrote a thing.

I am using Celestial Forge v3 with 100 points per 2000 words. No cuts, no rerolls, no locking choices. Whenever the selection says you get A specialty of a set or gives an element of a magical system, these too will be determined randomly. Dice are also used significantly in later sections but we'll see that when we get there. Outside of the forge determination, the ooc dice rolls only occur when the characters roll dice or otherwise legitimately randomize a choice ic.

Whenever there is a world or jump I do not recognize I have asked the kind people on the Discord and I will definitely ask you kind people on the forum to explain it to me and correct me (politely) if I am wrong.

I am trying to play every bonus with the most conservative reasonable interpretation. Of course a malicious genie could make any power as written be incapable of doing anything but likewise a liberal interpretation of most of these powers lead to omnipotence fairly quickly. If you feel I am misinterpreting a power please do say something (politely) I am here to learn.

Our MC has very little metaknowledge and what little he does have is often woefully inadequate or outright misinformed so please be careful to note the difference between *his* mistakes as an unreliable narrator who has been lied to by Cauldron (among others) vs factual mistakes in the text.

Gods willing and the creek don't rise I will be posting a chapter a week.

Chapter 1: Prologue

Chapter Text

Ch 0 Prologue

So I am face down in bed and a heavily armed woman holding a tinkertech pistol is asking me for an explanation. I don't have much of one. I, Micah Czilovich, have never been a lucky lad. I've had a few breaks, some good, some bad. I've never had anything truly tragic in terms of the scope and scale of what is possible in Brockton Bay on Earth Bet, but that is a low bar to clear. I've lost some family to Nazis, some others to unsafe working conditions, but no real batman moment. I am not the most physically fit, but I get by. I can be bright when I can focus, and once in a blue moon my hyperfocus and my schoolwork line up, and I can get a fair bit done. I managed to learn how to learn and learn how to study freshman year, thank god. I saw a lot of former brightest kids in the room burn out when they couldn't make it on talent alone, but I have good enough habits to get into honors classes without nepotism and sit firmly in the middle of the pack.

I want to be a super scientist. Not a cheating tinker kind, but one that takes tinkertech and actually understands how it gets done. A modern day Prometheus stealing the fire from this weird clarketech and distributing it to the masses! They say it's impossible, but everyone needs a dream. So I came to Brockton University for their Parahuman Studies program and majored in mechanical engineering, or as many Mech-E students call it, pre-business. I'm short on cash and scholarships only have so long a time limit, so it's full course schedules every semester, including summers and winters. Not a single week off anywhen. At best, I get a four-day weekend on National "Let's not think about Americans committing genocide so have some turkey" day. Besides, no use going outside of campus since that is where all the Nazis are.

Unfortunately, my academic plans got fucked by illness. I'm glad the student medical insurance in Brockton is pretty much second to none. I had to have a few tennis ball-sized masses pulled out from between my lower vertebrae. Even after the surgeries themselves were done, I had spent several months without full leg access and I had to re-learn how to walk. This did not go as well as one could hope.

The pain meds interfered with the brain meds and the brain meds made building muscle nearly impossible and the troubles of nearly a year of inactivity turned me from kind of bottom heavy bowling pin shape to practically bowling ball shape. After a year without classes I'd fallen out of all of my good habits and without useful medication I was more easily distracted by butterflies than integrals. Plus all of my favorite thinking spots. The roof of dorm C, the little nook behind the third floor library vending machines, a small forgotten garden by the AG college, I couldn't get to any of them with my new barely functional legs. Finding a place to be alone and still have some good lighting on campus used to practically involve parkour before. Now I was ground bound and wide. A year of inactivity lost me my scholarships. Unlike the Uni, they did not give a single staining shit about medical circumstances. I am still in the program, but money was about to force me out. With my odd luck I found a bit of help, but things only got worse as they got better.

Now, while I was basically a complete hermit, I did have some friends. Ok, a friend. Fine, a friendly acquaintance. Her name was Sandy. She is just lovely. She's focused, hard-working, and generally shat on from a great height by the department because nurr hurr girls in engineering. If I fuck up it's just on me, but she's been made keenly aware that whenever she's fucked up it's because girls don't belong in the department. It's the 21st goddamn century, so I thought we'd be over this, but no. That having been said, she is the only person in class that I have noticed being under more stress than I am. We've shared some notes and some dark jokes over vending machine coffee, and just before a particularly brutal exam she noticed I was taking medications for concentration and pain. She shook an empty concerta bottle at me and asked if I could lend her one, so I did the friendly thing and helped. A week later, one of her friends mentioned that she had been told I had those kinds of pills and asked if they could have one. After the sixth time, socially dense as I am, I realized a means of perhaps making enough to stay in school if I live frugally and make sure to increase my medication dosage and only take half pills. The rest of the prescription would go to help the other poor unfortunate undergrads near test time in exchange for donations to the Keep Micah in College fund. That semester was passed and paid for.

Things seemed to be going well, and the next semester flowed by quickly. I even lifted my grades a bit. I just needed to ride this out one more year, then I could drop it all and be some entry level PRT tinkertech analyst. They're always hiring. Then there was Chaz. Fuck Chaz. Chaz shows up in my physical therapy class. He's there because he is a sports medicine major, I am there because I need physical therapy. I was sore and frustrated from the workout and then my head was stuffed in a locker, and it was explained to me using short, loud words that I was selling pills on his turf. It was further explained that if I did not kick up a cut, I would need far more extensive physical therapy, perhaps for my arms or my jaw.

Now I was bitter and surly about Chaz for a bit, but then a few things became clear. I was accidentally undercutting him a fair bit. Because the pills had no real cost to me, I was charging something like of the street value. To fall in line with his polite requests, I had to triple my prices. Even after kicking him up his 50%, I was making a fair bit more. I did actually take and pay attention to the mandatory business classes for engineers and I thought to myself, as much as I didn't like the guy personally, if I were in his position would I do anything different? If I had a local monopoly being undercut and due to the illicit nature of the business, I could rely on my competitor not to use legal methods to thwart me. Yeah, I'd do the same. Plus once he got his money he was a pretty chill guy. I still kinda wanted to see him suffer, but over time I saw what other people in the business had to deal with and frankly Chaz was one of the best of a bad bunch.

My policy of getting things done efficiently and grudging respect to my "mentor" had some unfortunate side effects. A semester passed and Chaz graduated and left the campus. Due to just quietly not interacting with him outside of business and not bothering to skim from the till, I was the one he decided to leave in charge when he left. This meant I had to actually engage in being sociable and politicking. I very much didn't want to leave the safety of campus to do this.

Fortunately the Venn diagram between affordable student housing and drug den is nearly a circle, so no one thought anything of me taking a stroll every few weeks from the university bus stop to a pleasant if run down house where it seemed like a party was happening. I could drop off a package, have a few drinks, and then leave. This settled into a simple rhythm and was the most social acceptance and activity I had had in…ever, so things were looking up and graduation was merely a year away. Then the cycle of my life was disrupted by a white phosphorus grenade.

Something in business classes they teach you is about the value of things in their environment. Water is more valuable than gold in a desert, salt has almost no value by the sea and so on. Lots of vices drop in its value precipitously near a college campus, since people are often pretty much giving it away for free. This is basically the secret of the Merchants' success. They can run some party houses with low overhead and not worry. So the theory goes, anyway. Turns out even when it isn't profitable to set up your own business somewhere, it can be quite valuable to force a competitor to spend more resources protecting their own business. The school courses did not mention this at all, so the sudden appearance of the world's only serial suicide bomber came as a total shock.

I was in the kitchen when I saw the mask and heard the pop of air. I tried to hit the deck. I failed. Not in the way people usually do in not ducking fast enough, I threw myself through a door and ended up flinging myself down a set of stairs I had not known were present. There was pain and darkness, then light and smoke. There was fire between myself and the basement exit and fire up the stairs. Everything smelled like burning chemicals and frying meat. Now, unlike most people in the building, I did have a full year of experience moving around along the ground while my legs don't work. I dragged myself to what I hoped was a bathroom and was proven correct.

It was an older bathroom with a Victorian style key in the inside to lock it. I stretched up to turn the key, and it fell out into my hand. I crawled through the door and collapsed back against it. I opened my hand and let myself breathe. Blood from my forehead dripped onto the key, and it dissolved. Honestly, I just assumed I was hallucinating and considered just letting myself slip away again. I felt the sense of accomplishment that came from knowing I had done my best to survive and everything was in the hands of the fire department now.

My eyes tried to close, but I knew I could not sleep. I was probably concussed. I tried to get up a little and splash some water on my face. I fell backward, and the door opened in the wrong direction. The mirror showed me a shadow coming from my forehead in the shape of the key. I fell back into dim light and cool, clean air.

I awoke in a spartan warehouse. My bleeding had stopped, and the air was mostly clear. Some smoke seeped through the slightly open door, but the building was large enough that breathing was easy, and I had time to recover. There was no cell signal and flickering soft lights reflecting off of pristine white walls.

After taking stock of myself, I took stock of the room. Dim glow lights with no visible electricity or means of power. White walls, grey floor and ceiling, shelving along all walls and a few freestanding shelves on the floor. No external doors and a drain in the far right corner. I spent a fair bit of time patting the walls looking for secret doors or listening for hollow places, nothing. I climbed the shelves to tap the ceiling, nothing. I played some sounds from my cell and hummed a few songs just to get an idea of the acoustics of the room. They were echoey as expected. I sat and I rested some more, staring at the single slightly open door. My phone said I had been in the weird warehouse for several hours. I took a deep breath and opened the door.

Back in the bathroom, I closed the door and tried to open it again. It didn't open into the warehouse, but it wouldn't open fully in the normal world either. It had been jammed shut by a fallen beam. I kicked, I pushed, I screamed until my throat was raw. Then I pulled my head out of my ass and just called the fire department. They didn't take very long to get there, and they brought an ambulance. After a flurry of activity from the EMTs they let me go and into the arms of the police and fire department who had some pointed questions. Questions like: How did you survive? I stayed close to the ground and left the water running in the sink. Why was I there? There was a party, and I was invited by a friend. What did I see? Nothing, I was in the shitter. Why didn't they find me earlier? I had passed out and as soon as I came to I called them. The EMT's corroborated my passing out story, and I was let go without issue.

Despite the discomfort, I was in familiar territory, getting medical extensions on reports and exams. I knew the school bureaucracy and they knew me. The forms were already on my computer, and any professors that wouldn't accept that kind of thing I had already left during previous medical problems, so that was nice. The looming spectre of exams was warded off by bureaucratic ofuda. Now that the immediate danger of being kicked out was in abeyance, I could concentrate on something, really anything else. Did my experience in the fire really happen? I tried to recall the details of the warehouse, tried to remember what the key looked like. Maybe it fell out in my room and I could find it. I closed my eyes. Then I felt the weight and it was there. I hefted it, then bit it just to check. Yes, I had an old fashioned iron key. I rolled it across my knuckles, spun it like a pen, tapped my knee, tapped my desk, eventually threw it against the wall. It bounced, hit my closet door and the door opened. The grey walls that met me weren't the institutional cinderblock of my closet but the institutional grey cinderblock of a much larger closet! What the hell could I do with it?

In my heart of hearts, hopefully replicate it or at least explain it but in the immediate, much like any student, I tried to use it to help with my student loans. I can't suddenly have more money than I should with no legal source of income My Chaz money was already provided through the gym but I didn't want him touching this. and any sort of legal transportation or storage of goods comes with miles of red tape. All that could be handled eventually, for now I hoped I'd be able to save some money while figuring out this thing's capacities.

After playing hopscotch in and out of the warehouse, summoning it on different doors, making sure I could get back what I put in, I fiddled with the key some more. Basically any time I took my eye off of it or wasn't concentrating it was gone. When I thought about it again it was in my hand. This discovered, money saving method one was to get rid of my biggest expense, rent. I hit up a liquor store for a handle of rum and every cardboard box they would let me get away with, into the warehouse they went. I packed all my dorm crap in the boxes and put them in the warehouse. I tried to get some of those neat emergency chemlights to light the place better, but those were too expensive, so I just grabbed some glow sticks next time I delivered pills to club kids. Now the big grey box had a little color. Flashlights and water bottles were obtained from various booths along campus trying to trick students into getting credit cards. Into the box. At one point when no one was looking, I snagged an entire water cooler bottle from a hallway. It was heavy as hell, but there was a door next to it, so I just rolled it in. I bought a case of pack ramen and tossed it in, and I had food, shelter and water. Very little fuss, very little mus, and I had a bit of fun. Next thing I needed to be able to do schoolwork and not go stir crazy is electricity. This was a huge pain in the ass.

So I am a Mech E in training, you'd think I'd have access to generator parts or something. Turns out no. I thought about grabbing a spare solar charger, but there is no sunlight in the warehouse. I briefly borrowed an outbuilding's gas generator, but I realised after a few minutes it would fill the room with carbon monoxide and I would die. I did manage to boost some laptop batteries from the campus IT department, but I wasn't going to grab anything else, since people watch that sort of thing for tinkers all the time. Eventually I got a pair of bolt cutters and stole someone's bike that had one of those friction powered lights on it, so I could at least pedal a bit of power. I did have enough tools and materials that I could keep some low energy LEDs and a phone charger going with that, but this would need to change asap.

After a day living like this I realized I needed someplace actually comfortable to sleep if I was going to abandon my dorm, so I wandered around campus until someone was throwing out furniture, there is always someone getting rid of a couch or mattress. I laundered the fuck out of it. It was still stained but usable. I flat out stole febreeze from a couple of stoners that used it instead of doing laundry. They never noticed. I was tired. I was broke, but I was going to be finally able to slowly phase out drug dealing, finish my degree, and not live someplace dangerous. It would mean showering in cold water and at public showers, but nothing grad students didn't sometimes have to do. Maybe sooner or later I could snag a gas stove and just be left alone. I was having some rum in celebration of my imminent freedom when of course someone knocked at my soon-to-be evacuated dorm door. I did get some benefit out of the PT classes the past couple years though. I discovered I really kind of enjoyed exercising. Ok, I hated my days less when I dragged myself to the gym to exercise, and it was something to do that was free. But I was apparently good at just zoning out and doing it. It helped in all of the furniture lifting.

It was fucking Chaz. There he stood, grinning like a jackass. He clapped me on the back and pulled me into a big bro hug. "Mikey! We're moving up in the world, kid! The previous distro guy, the one you were delivering the pay to. He's fucking dead! Died in a fire. So I'm taking his place and I need someone to take mine." Fuck. I explained that I totally could not do his kind of job. I couldn't work at a gym and I definitely would stick out. His jubilant mood was unchanged. "No kid, you know all the jargon and all the machines from years of PT, you know how all the books are done, and it looks like you haven't been skipping leg days." My wandering campus, lifting objects and having to bike for electricity had undone me. I was still a sweaty unkempt mess, but I was a basically fit, sweaty unkempt mess. "Just wear a gym shirt and we'll get you a haircut you'll do fine." I screwed my courage to the sticking point.

"I don't want to 'do fine' Chaz. I want to get out."

He shook his head. "You can get out when you graduate. For now, I'm going to need you to do this just until we get someone trained up. It'll just be for another semester, and besides you don't want to live like this. I can front you a few grand, and you can use the offices and shit at the gym to do whatever you want. Or, seeing as how you're looking better, and you'd be the one with the supply, whoever you want."

An actual job, on record, with a paycheck and a mailing address I can use for transcripts and records, hot showers, real food, and pretty people in skin tight outfits. Fuck it's only for another year. Do this over the summer, save up enough to pay for next semester, and just leave the state. Plus, if I'm trying to work for the PRT having a work history ...augh, fuck. "Fine I'm in. but I have a couple of conditions"

"Name 'em." He smiled smugly, knowing he had me hooked.

"No one else gets access to the upstairs offices. I'm going to move in there full time. I get paid for my job as a manager on the books and above board. You get some of the folks in pre-med to write me some recommendations. You have someone teach me boxing or something for self-defense, and fucking no one goes upstairs."

"Sure man so long as you let folks pick up and drop off the product someplace out of sight it's all yours" He clasped my arm in a macho forearm handshake thing.

I moved in, it took all of about five minutes, but I made it look like I was just moving in a box at a time over a few days. Things returned to some semblance of normal. I finished my projects and coasted on B's. None of the courses I needed were taught in the summer. I had the money to enroll in what I hoped would be my final semester in the fall, and it looked like I might get my first few days off in something like 3 years.

My boxing instructor showed up, some old military dude named Laborn. Turns out although I could think and walk and concentrate through a ridiculous amount of pain due to the injuries etc. I very, very much did not like being punched in the face, so after like three lessons I quit. I had learned how to throw a punch badly but without breaking my hand and learned that moving out of the way is important, but not so much how to do it. Doesn't matter though. Not like I'm going to be in any fights and if someone threatens me with a gun or something boxing won't help. My dreams of not fearing Chaz or his ilk breaking my legs crumbled in the face of just not wanting to do the work. But I had a week of vacation. And even when that time was over, I only had to put in a few hours at the gym. No homework, no running around delivering product.

I settled into a cycle of walking along the beach, working out at the gym, going to the library or a coffee shop to use their internet, doing paperwork or measuring out product for Chaz. In the evenings I would read, work on improving my warehouse home, rest, repeat. I felt like I was in a game of the sims. Upgrading furniture, buying items to increase comfort. My equilibrium was restored, I had a peaceful routine. Then I woke up with my head on the chest of a confused amazonian cyborg in red robes and curves that couldn't be hidden by the loosest of sackcloth. I swiftly passed out again. That's how I got where we started.

Word Count 3676 forge node at 2 k below next node at 4k

1 7 0 Engine-sister Warhammer 40k - Adeptus Mechanicus Assistants 100 Voluminous red robes cannot hide the curves beneath to this woman's eternal embarrassment. Friendly and perky in conversation to both man and machine, she is torn between her desire to be closer to the machine and her attachment to humanity. The possibly of a harmonious union between the two has inspired her to follow you. She has all 100, 200, and 400cp enginseer perks. She also has 'subtle bionics' 'artisan' and one pick of 'magos designation.'

Chosen magos designation plasma

Her Perks:

100cp - Artisan

Unlike many in the machine cult who care not for appearances, your equipment and visible bionics are shelled with precious metals and etched with devotional symbols. Every object you craft or

possess for a prolonged period of time acquires a bit of extra flair with no effort and without

detriment to their functions. Though seen by many in the cult as wasteful or vain this attention to

appearance can endear one to those in the higher ranks of Imperial society who value such

affectations. You may choose to suppress this perk entirely or only for specific items.

100cp - Subtle bionics

From hesitance at abandoning the human form or the acquisition of high-grade miniaturized

components, there is little outward sign of your integrated cybernetics. Cables are subdermal and

woven to follow existing muscle groups, cyber-limbs are hidden beneath a layer of synth-skin, and artificial eyes resemble the organic model closely enough that sight alone cannot recognize them as

anything but. Only large external bionics like mechadendrites are plainly visible, and the smaller

models can be hidden beneath the folds of a thick robe. While hiding the blessings of the omnissiah would normally offend even the most emotionless magi, there are occasions where concealing one's affiliations and abilities can be advantageous.

100cp – Wonders of the machine god

Machinery is as mysterious as the workings of the warp to the average Imperial - it would take all

day to explain why even the simplest rituals are performed and what they do. So by necessity

you've become very good at getting people to shut up and let you work in peace. A few curt words is enough to satisfy anyone's curiosity, or to make someone less technically-inclined understand

why certain things need doing and to justify the time and expense of doing so.

100cp – Rites of maintenance

While already designed to be incredibly robust, Imperial equipment inevitably requires

maintenance. You can locate and identify problems within a machine in a fraction of the time it

would take other adepts. Not knowing how a machine functions does not make fixing it any more

difficult so long as you have the proper parts, tools, and rituals to guide your hands.

200cp – Impossible precision

Behind the mighty engines and clanking gears of Imperial armor are smaller yet no less important

components. Servicing those delicate elements requires a fine touch, and you work with steadiness and precision. Your hands and other appendages will not twitch from surprise or adrenaline, and they will exert the exact amount of force you desire and no more. Exactly how precisely you can

work is subject only to the limits of your perceptions.

200cp – Technical knock

You have mastered the ancient technical rite of 'if it doesn't work, smack it with a wrench until it

does.' Small problems like loose gears can be quickly and permanently fixed with one good whack. When a larger problem impedes a machine's function, continuous pounding and irate prayer can

cajole it to miraculously perform one last, brief task, but no more. At that point, this rite will have

no more effect until the device receives proper attention.

400cp – Imperial logistics

The scale of the Imperial war machine is incomprehensible to most minds. It is nothing less than a miracle that the Guard and Navy can function at all, given the myriad logistical issues involved.

But miracles are something you can provide, as long as you are directly involved in overseeing the distribution or production of a needed resource. You'll always seem to somehow end up with more

than with what you started, and this effect increases the greater the scale that you work with. An

hour of overseeing the fabrication of lasrifles may net you a dozen extra units at no extra cost,

while distributing the output of an agri-world may produce a year's worth of extra rations for an

entire Guard regiment.

400cp – Armorbane

Long experience with putting things together inevitably teaches one the best way to take something apart. Whether disabling an unruly machine or cracking open a heretek's fortress, you can quickly pick out design flaws, blind spots, and points of failure. Exploiting these weaknesses makes your

actions many times more effective. Structures crumble, armor buckles, systems seize up, power

surges dangerously out of control, and ammo stores seem to cook off at the slightest provocation.

Should you show mercy and attempt to repair what you have laid low, the damage will be far less

than it appears and restoring the machine to service will be much less difficult than expected.

Chapter 2: Chapter 1

Chapter Text

I had been slowly improving the quality of my bedding from barely serviceable to actually comfortable over the past month. Starting with a thrown out couch, some blankets and pillows I had managed to work my way up to a queen sized mattress with hardly any stains and a frame put together from cinder blocks and discarded lumber. I awoke on something far softer and warmer than expected so I immediately tried to go back to sleep. The blanket I was on was of a far softer material than I was used to with higher thread count and I could feel some kind of embroidery on it. The pillow I was on was soft, pleasant and made a squeaking noise when I tried to fluff it. Squeaking noise? I actually opened my eyes and looked up at the source of the noise.

My pillow was in fact a person. That doesn't do her justice, My pillow was a statuesque engine of beauty and power barely contained by intricately carved and inlaid cybernetics woven through carefully maintained and sculpted muscle over forty centuries of human progress leading to a seven foot tall goddess that could make a caryatid weep with envy. The only thing more notable than her form was the large tinkertech gun at her hip. I did not want it pointed at me. It was too early in the morning to process this so I refused to. I sat up slowly and grabbed a can of coffee.

"Miss I have no idea what you were smoking or drinking to end up in here with me or what I was taking to not remember us getting here, but I need to take less of it and I hope you take whatever you took again soon. And if in some way my performance last night was not up to par I would like to have a chance to try again sober. Just give me a moment for a shower, brush my teeth and I will make up for whatever I did or did not do. Please don't shoot me."

She squeaked again and giggled. This was not a sound I expected from She Hulk's little sister. "I am Enginseer-Sister Ahira Lelane and I am here to assist your apotheosis into a harmonious avatar of the machine gods by providing material and military support."

"Is this one of those transhumanist tinker things where you try to take away my meat parts and upload me into a toaster?"

"It can be!" She seemed to light up at the prospect then her expression fell a little "but I haven't passed those classes yet" She seems to sort of fall in on herself but then she brightens up again."But I am sure it's just a matter of time until we figure it out together!"

I blinked. "Well I think we can hold off on that for a while. Besides that is there anything specific you're doing here, and with me? Are you sure you have the right guy?"

Her arm and hand open up like something out of Ghost in the Shell. Dozens of mechanical feelers flicker out and over my face, scanning rays in a thousand spectra flicker over my body and reveal the shape of an iron key on my brow where an exalt would keep their caste mark. "Yes, you hold the key to the Hylic Archive. A set of mysteries made to create perfect interaction between crafter and crafted, between tool and user, between design and reality."

A part of me wanted to scream and protest that I was not even a graduate engineering student and woefully underqualified. Another more insistent part of me realized I was standing eye to boob with someone who could clearly crush my skill in their hands, had an interesting looking tinkertech pistol on her hip, cybernetics and an agenda. Now was not the time to protest. "Where do you suggest we start?"

"Well I'll go through and inventory the parts you have here, if you can get me more I can make a generator and we can have a real workshop."

"Ok I'll be on my way then" I got up and left the room, I cleaned myself off, and headed out the door. I had been working for the Merchants for the better part of a year now and I know that electronics stores are watched, the boat graveyard is watched, auto shops are watched, definitely all the campus machine shops are watched. Squealer gets her stuff because she has a large enough organization that she can have them boost cars and bring them to her fresh rather than have to go to a potential trap in a junkyard. I wasn't a tinker myself but I was a broke engineering student who needed mats from time to time.

For my bits and bobs I went to the dorms. They were slim pickings much of the year, but now, in summer when everyone is either moving out or into someplace new, the piles of furniture and the trails of electronics were left behind by those who are too poor to transport them or too rich to care. I was not alone. Second hand stores, artists, and not just a few others would pick through and grab everything they can. I worked more like a farmer than a hunter. When it is harvest time, grab everything I can and then store it to last until the end of the next semester. No one could watch it all, no one could catch everyone as pretty much every other student missing some odds and sods from around their apartments did the same thing.

My power was also quite useful in this situation. Students with pickup trucks and vans can't pull up and load directly because everyone and their mother is trying to get their vans and U-Hauls and everything to move people in and out. Students without trucks or vans can only take one or two pieces. My warehouse gave me the best of both worlds. I could go, grab gear, walk around to a locked fire door, drop the gear in the warehouse, repeat. I thought about getting Sister Ahira to help. Even though I had been living in a gym the past month or so she had me beat in every possible physical capacity. Problem is she would draw attention even in normal clothes and those robes were a giveaway. That being said, she directed me towards the best things to gather and somehow I ended up taking in more than I picked up. Maybe she somehow snuck out? So I soldiered on and spent the day gathering a surprising amount.

A benefit of the gym rat life, even for the sportily uninclined, is you get to know where various sports or bodybuilding competitions are and where people buy equipment. If you need to outfit a seven foot tall woman, finding out where the lady bodybuilders shop is pretty much a mandatory step one. After asking a few of them I found that almost all of their gear is bought online but when they need something right now or need to try something on first there are a few shops in town. There were of course plenty of measuring tapes and ways to measure yourself at the gym so back I went.

Turns out it was entirely unnecessary as Sister Ahira had already figured out how to reach my cell phone so long as the door was ajar and knew her own measurements to the micrometer. So I took a quick trip to Phrocks! I grabbed a dress I thought might work and put it into a dressing booth, unlocked the door of the booth and stepped in myself. Ahira stepped out and went on a brief shopping adventure. She wasn't up on the local customs so she pretended to be Scandinavian and not clear on the language. I eventually slipped out of the dressing room. Was noticed by the clerk and given a glare followed by an eyebrow waggle when Ahira called me up to the counter to pay for her purchases. We were warned not to engage in hanky panky in the changing rooms again and headed out.

Everything had gone fine. We stopped at a little asian market and got some groceries. The materials search had worked perfectly, we escaped clothes shopping with at least one shred of dignity apiece. Things were looking up. We went back to the gym where Ahira talked excitedly with some of the other members. I went to the kitchenette and mixed up the various smoothies and powders people had ordered. All was well. Then Chaz came in, asked who the new hotness was, grabbed her ass when she was going for a lift so she spun around, punched him and broke his jaw and three of his ribs.

Fuck.

Well I rapidly put every bit of contraband I could find in my warehouse and the cops showed up with their usual lag time since this wasn't a great neighborhood but not quite a slum. They questioned everyone, checked the cameras. Luckily there were no cameras in the kitchen or bathrooms. The other gym goers corroborated Ahira's story that he had grabbed her first so the cops let the ambulance take him and basically shrugged the whole thing off. Eventually when the gym closed down for the night. I made dinner and got to sit down for a few minutes to let my heart catch up to the rest of me. I had spent the day lifting, hauling, sneaking, and running on adrenaline. I started putting the various boxes of contraband back where they belonged, I could be forgiven not noticing someone coming up behind me.

"Hey, where's Chaz?" A thin reedy man with a pair of thugs behind him asked.

"Um, he's in the hospital, hurt himself working out. I'm Mike." I hoped my exhaustion would mask my nervousness.

"Yeah, college boy. He mentioned you. Ron and Aaron are here to pick up the pills. Show them where they're at" So far so good. Probably wasn't going to get in trouble so long as everything moved fine. I looked around at what I had put back and what was still in my warehouse. The pills he wanted were still in the warehouse. "I'll go get them!"

"Nah, we ain't got time for that shit. I pay these guys to lift and haul so they're gonna lift and haul." I say a silent prayer hoping that they won't notice that the room they are entering wasn't there yesterday and lead them in. Luckily Ahira si still at the kitchenette so they don't stumble in on her. Nothing freaky has been built yet. I think we're ok.

"Alright, you're wasted on Chaz, you work directly for me now"

I stand dumbfounded.

"Bitch, I used to run my stuff out of this place when it was a video store. That room is some cape shit" He draws his jacket back showing his gun.

"I don't want to get into any parahuman stuff. I don't want to have to fight Kaiser or Lung. Please, can we not?" I just sit there exhausted while his men load up the pills.

"Depends, what cape shit do you do?" He taps a cigarette pack on the back of his hand and starts to light up.

"All I can do is make this room, I can make it anywhere there is a door." I practically collapse, it has just been too much today, at least I'll never have to see or hear from Chaz again.

He grins wide. "You are way too useful to fight capes. You, my man, are going to enter the lucrative world of interstate trucking."

He tells his men not to pack up any more of the pills and encourages me into a large black SUV.

"Come on, you can do your door trick back at the house. We'll have a welcoming party to celebrate your new position." He puts an arm around my shoulder.

I am tired and baffled but hey, at least a party can't be all bad. If they kill me they lose access to the room and I can probably live somewhere that doesn't smell like sweat "Can my girlfriend come?"

"Sure man, the more the merrier." He laughs and then Ahira comes out. He looks her up and further up and down. "Ok kid, you do ok for y'self"

We drive off into the night. Not expecting as many passengers as they have, I end up sitting on Ahira's lap. Any attempts to mock me for it are met by a withering gaze from Ahira and a jackal-like laugh from my new boss. He says his name is Adam, and I'm moving up in the world.

Total Words 5817 forge node at 4 k below next node at 10 k (bad dice luck)

11.2.0-Fuel Production Facility(Starsector v1.2)(Tech Supply Large)(100CP):A large facility dedicated to the production of fuel. By default, the production facility is configured to produce antimatter fuel, but this can be changed to produce alternative variants of fuel at higher volumes. A single facility is capable of producing enough antimatter every month to supply around 10 capital-hull ships without a problem, or around 3000 units of fuel.

Chapter 3: Chapter 2

Chapter Text

So Adam led me to a fairly nice suburban house at the end of a cul de sac. It was bigger than the average box house but smaller and more tasteful than a McMansion. The neighborhood was a gated community that had clearly seen better days but still had security fences and guards at the gates. The guards were much more alert than one would expect from rent-a-cops and the fences were in much better repair than the houses in the development. Further in the community a pool, a 24 hour convenience store and a small trauma center for medical emergencies were in the central square. We passed offices, some kind of meeting hall and a small band shell.

The house was done in French Colonial style with a wrought iron M worked into its balconies. The railings made it look as though two lines were passing through it if you passed at the right angle. A throbbing bass line was audible from the front driveway but none of the other houses were close enough that it would disturb them. In fact the yard seemed to have a fair bit of flat area all around the premises and the balconies seemed to overlook most possible lanes of entry.

"So Mike is it?" Adam put an arm around my shoulder.

"Micah"

"Well mi casa es Micah casa. We were throwing a little soiree celebrating the return of some old friends but I've told them to really break out the good stuff for your social debut."

We walked in, then up the stairs, past the stone columns with subtle gilt highlights. Ahira seemed much more comfortable with this kind of house than the other buildings she had seen. The double doors led to a room bedecked in ivory with gold edging. It avoided being gaudy by understating the gold but the ivory had slightly yellowed with time bringing to mind what the place must have looked like in its heyday.

The house looked like it had been built during prohibition with wide galleries and tile floors. People from all walks of life mingled. I could see a few people I recognised from the English department, someone I had seen on the news, I think he was a city councilman. Lots of beautiful people in various states of undress. But one thing that drew the eye was a set of scorch marks on the interior wall. It looked like someone had run a cutting torch at the area haphazardly trying to get at something in the closet beyond the entryway. There were burns on part of the ceiling and scars along the side of the broad winding staircase. I turned to ask Adam about the decor but he had wandered away with a well oiled man on each arm.

He waved. "If you need any help getting acclimated head to the first door on the left upstairs. Food is in the kitchen, pool is clothing optional and the celebration for our man of the hour is happening in the bar downstairs. Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

Ahira took his place and wrapped her arm around my shoulder. She seemed to already know how to move in a place like this but the people seemed to be making her somewhat nervous. We continued back to the kitchen.

The kitchen was full of snacks and drinks. Wine, spirits, and beers were stacked in coolers with mixers available. A few people were sitting around the kitchen table laden with cookies and pastries and other confections. Several of the baked goods and gummies had small signs on them saying "Gluten Free" , "Vegan" or "Special". We each tried a few. The smell of a wood grill wafted in from the back porch area where various things on skewers were being handed out on paper plates while folks relaxed by the pool. Well, some relaxed. Others had relaxation thrust upon them by being gently shoved into the water if they were insufficiently alert. This did lead to even those who were previously clothed tending to remove their outfits. Some few folks seemed to be avoided by the pranksters but I couldn't figure out what they had in common or why. While Ahira seemed intrigued by the cooking neither she nor I felt like obeying the poolside informal dress code so we grabbed some brownies and kept exploring.

The dining room had a long table and ivory chandeliers. Several people were taking advantage of the long smooth surface to do bumps of coke and other nose powders. One end of the table hosted a small knot of people sitting around some plates and discussing the relative merits of Earth Aleph and Earth Bet versions of classic films. Neither Ahira nor I knew anything about either so we swiftly moved along. Most of the other rooms on the first floor were home to things like that. Finger foods, enthusiastic dancing, small displays of affection and spirited conversation. I opened the door to the basement and the lurid bisexual lighting and the smell of sex wafted upwards. Ahira seemed interested to head down but I demurred for now and we went back to the grand staircase.

On reaching the second floor we turned into the aforementioned left door and found ourselves in a large study or perhaps small library with an octagonal green felt table in the middle. A man of about 50 or 60 with a conical party hat was sipping whiskey while he played poker with another four players sitting around the table. None of the players seemed a day under 40 although there were a pair of girls in low cut classic maid outfits refreshing their drinks.

"To Tully for doing a long dime, welcome home!" An old scarred gentleman in a tank top and slacks raised a glass.

The man in the party hat replied "Don't remind me, this place has changed but at least some of you have stayed the same. Some of these new kids don't know loyal."

A slender hispanic man nodded towards the door. "Speaking of new blood I promised Adam I'd show this kid what's what. Come on up and grab a seat, kid. Let the old Marche learn you something"

I quickly sat down, Ahira stayed standing behind me, hands on my shoulders. Two of the other men at the table nodded their approval.

"Name's Luis, that's Chloe" He points to the maid "Can she get you anything? Our guest of honor is Tully, and these three jokers are Mohammed, Giuseppe and Joachim. We're something of the old guard. Been in this crew since before Adam and Joachim is probably going to be here long after all of our grandkids are buried." He slaps a rotund black man on the shoulder who quietly smiles.

Mohammed speaks up "I can see why you might have passed up the temptations of the lower floors if you have someone like this with you" He looks Ahira up and down appreciatively, she blushes a bit then clears her throat and returns a slight smile.

"So that explains why you're not there, what brings you up here? If you two need a bedroom, the fourth door on the right is open. I'll give you a key" Luis jingles a keychain with a golden M on the fob.

"No, no nothing like that. Adam said I was going to be moving up in the world and this party was supposed to introduce me socially." I accepted a glass of single malt scotch from Chloe and sipped it barely holding back a cough. This was far smoother than expected and had quite the kick.

"Then you've come to the right place. I take it you have some kind of talent? What kind of line are you in, production, protection, procurement, transportation, sales? Downstairs you can talk to the front facing side of things but the real business gets done in quiet places like these with old farts like us."

Guisseppe interrupts holding up his glass "Except Sherrel"

The rest of the table holds up their glasses and says in near unison "Except Sherrel"

They all drink an impromptu toast and Guisseppe mutters "Place would fall down without her since Lavere left"

Mohammed pipes up. "That's not fair, Adam's a good kid, got a good head for numbers and knows how to play the crowds at least as much as the old boss did. Cut him some slack. Plus he has the good sense not to rub it in the Heroes' faces when they fuck up."

Luis sloshes some whiskey around in his glass "True, true, things are good but you have to admit we don't get near as much respect as we used to."

"Yeah but respect doesn't spend that good, even on the inside, and we have a lot more money than we used ta." Tully puts his two cents in and the rest of the table mumbles in agreement.

Luis looks at his phone and folds his current hand "Adam says the kids in Transport and storage. Deal me out fellas, this guy didn't come here to hear us rehash old gripes. He's here to learn what's expected of him in this organization. I'm gonna take him to the garage and show him a few things, or not as the case may be"

Tully grins madly "Take a picture of the look on his face when it hits him. It's always good."

Luis cashes out his chips and takes Ahiri and I down a back staircase to the large garage attached to the house.

"Kid, this is the fleet." He opens the door with a big expansive gesture sweeping his arm across a twelve car garage containing .. nothing. Absolutely fuck all. There are shelves, tools. Lifts. All the things an enthusiastic mechanic or car collector might want but no actual cars.

Ahira widens her eyes and looks amazed. I raise an eyebrow at the old man.

"Listen kid, you're with the Merchants, you know that right?" Luis asks.

"Well what with all the parties, the multiracial co-workers and the drugs I had guessed"

"Now the ABB has Lung, the E88 has a bunch of heavy metal brutes. What heavy hitters have the Merchants got?" He says in a lecturing voice.

"Tanks, we have tanks." I say.

"You're welcome" he grins widely.

I wince at the pun.

"And how do we manage to deploy tanks in a crowded urban environment without wrecking up the place or flat out getting taken in by the Protectorate before we even get anything done?" He nods along, coaxing me for an answer.

"They're Invisi-" my jaw drops. I see the flash of a cell phone camera as a dozen cars shimmer into existence. Vans, sports cars, family sedans, a cop car, an ambulance, a big rig, and a trailer with a speedboat all appear in front of me. "-ble."

"Got it in one kid. Now me and Sherry are gonna teach you how to drive." He jingles the keys at me again but this time I am the one grinning widely.

The three of us pile into a Lincoln Town car and streak off into the night. We drive around the slums fading in and out of visibility. Some lights come on on the dash, Luis pushes the cloak and then eases off when they turn off. I look at him, questioning.

"Traffic cameras and speed traps."

After twenty odd minutes of driving around the worse areas of town towards the warehouse area by the docks he pulls into a former trainyard. He hits some buttons in the dash and a ramp opens up. We drove in to see a place festooned with car parts. Machines whir and hum around us, factory robots weld and solder. Several teams of mechanics swap out tires, scrape VINs, strip cars for parts and reprogram computers. We exit the car and Ahira falls to her knees genuflecting. She recites some prayer to a Machine Spirit and a statuesque woman in coveralls wearing a welding helmet strides up to us. She flips up her mask revealing smudged features and brown hair held in place with a blue bandanna.

"This the new Para?" she says, chewing some fruity smelling bubblegum.

"This is him. We're going to put his power through its paces then Adam says we show him how to drive. He's supposed to be our new long haul guy." Luis clasps her hand and gives a quick hug.

"I feel some kind of way about trusting a new guy with one of my rigs especially if we're letting him head out of town." She looks me over, top to bottom and does not seem impressed.

"He's been working with us for more than a year and hasn't said shit. Besides with what he's got we'd be damned fools to let him go and he'd be an even bigger one if he tried to go solo without us. If this works out we're a few steps closer to getting you those jet engines you wanted."

"Fine, come on, new guy. Let's see what you can do."

8075 words

Chapter 4: Chapter 3

Chapter Text

The old trainyard may have been deserted on top but one floor down it was a hive of enthusiastic activity. In the main area mechanics assembled and disassembled vehicles as needed and installed whatever mods or alterations were called for. A list of what bits go to what car was written on a clear plastic whiteboard. Along the sides men and women shelved and fetched the parts and tools for the folks in the pit and along the back wall there was a line of CRM tape that no one dared cross.

That line led to a large pair of garage doors with hazardous material warnings. A light over the doors was currently off and a large knife switch stood on a pillar next to the edge of the tape. Sherrel took a pair of jumpsuits and helmets and had Ahira and I get dressed. She threw the switch, the light came on with a klaxon and everyone stopped dead. The doors opened, we went into what looked to be a wide airlock, the kind you could drive a tank through. The doors shut behind us and I felt a sudden wave of pressure. The light continued to glow but the klaxon stopped and we could once again hear the clank and rattle of a machine shop in full swing.

Sherrel opened the inner doors and a sparkling clean workbay met us. Waldos controlling an assortment of pneumatic tools moved in eerie silence. Monitors showing system diagnostics flashed along the right hand wall. Sherrel pulled up a wheeled stool and motioned for us to do the same.

"Don't worry kid, there's nothing radioactive in here right now but we need that kind of precaution when dealing with some of the higher energy gear we play with here. Plus, stripping off clothes and making everyone go through decon is a good way of getting rid of any bugs a person may have picked up. So let's begin the testing." She holds up a clipboard. "What have you noticed about your powers so far?"

I have been trained as an engineer. Ahira has been trained as an engineer, and unbeknownst to me apparently Sherrel and the two gentlemen she called in after ten minutes have also been trained as engineers. The next six hours would be stultifyingly dull to anyone who did not share our collective passion for minutiae. I can give you an executive summary.

The door can be opened in any aperture that can close with an attached flap or covering. Attempts to open the door using a kiddy pool with a cover did not work until the cover was attached to the pool with several sturdy pieces of tape. This means I can in fact open the door in someone's mouth but not their nose. A tent, A crate, an oil drum, the gull wing door of a delorean and a cat flap all functioned. Those doors which have windows can be used to see into the warehouse when that door is active. Also attaching a warehouse to a door with a catflap causes the catflap to still lead into the normal space beyond the door. Related note. Watching spatial anomalies makes me nauseous.

I can open the door at any aperture with an attached covering. Once the door is open anyone else can use it and enter or leave. They can also open or close the door as they see fit so long as I have not opened it somewhere else in the meantime or wished it away. Related note as long as I am not in the warehouse and the door is closed I can wish the door away through act of will. If the door is opened I can not summon it somewhere else nor can I wish it away. This led to us installing a small weight, latch and timer. This will automatically close the door after 5 minutes. A weight pulls the door shut, it can not open the door at all just in case some clever technopath decides to try to take it over, it won't work. It has to be reset by hand.

The door can not fully close while I am inside the warehouse. Attempting to slam it shut with a 70 ton hydraulic press did not change this fact nor could the press deform or remove the door. Any door that is connected to the warehouse can not be meaningfully harmed. Even if the wall around it is vaporized, enough will stay to define an aperture and its covering. This was a lot of fun to test. I got to use a rocket launcher for the first time!

A door, so long as it is in its frame, can be active while in motion. Activating the warehouse while one is in a moving car then jumping in sometimes conserves momentum so either tuck and roll or we need to have a mattress just inside the door. Sometimes it doesn't so you tuck, roll and still look like an asshole. No pattern has yet been detected.

Other people can be left in the warehouse and the door closed. They can break out through the front door if the door is still attached to a real world door. If the warehouse has been disconnected no force we have yet been able to bring to bear can break them out. They will crack the stone like material of the wall though which seems arbitrarily thick and heals quickly.

One thing the walls and floor do not heal are mounting screw holes or other methods used to affix things to the warehouse. Plumbing, cable, furniture, tools. With a masonry bit and some time can be affixed to the structure.

A door can be opened at any orientation. A trap door, a drop down attic door, it doesn't matter. The inside of the door however has a gravitational plane as though the door was a flat horizontal door in a wall so lowering oneself through a trap door will lead to you lying on the concrete floor looking very silly.

Partway through all of this Ahira left to go fiddle with something in Sherrel's lab. The two were getting on very well discussing motors, engines, and where to source bras with high capacity and tensile strength. Both of them appeared to be in a tinker fugue together so the two assistants whom I later learned were called Blake and Devon helped me continue the tests.

With all of this info we decided to make some changes to the warehouse. First of all we placed some magnetic strips around the door and put a knife, a gun, some duct tape, a burner phone, a wallet and a flashlight on that tape within easy finger grab of the door. I also put a go bag and a gas mask nearby. This way if I am ever stuck I could theoretically reach into my own mouth and pull out one of those.

Next since the door itself can't be fully closed with me inside it we put in a vestibule. It is only 20 cm deep and 10 meters tall by 20 meters wide. It is made of sheet steel and bulletproof glass with shutters and has very sturdy locks. Parts of it open like a normal door and parts like a garage door. A pair of cars, a motorbike and a storage pod are parked just inside the vestibule.

A false back wall was put in 20 Meters from the end, and all of my things and some very much superior furniture were put in the little apartment between the false wall and the actual back of the warehouse. The sceptic hookup from an RV was mounted to the vestibule in front and plumbed in. During this we found out that I can open the door to any point along the wall that I will call the "front" wall. Power hookups so I can plug into the local grid or mains were put in along with a gas tank and a heating oil tank.

The place was wired for lighting and some rugs were thrown in the secret back room because the fake stone floor is fucking cold. Shelving, water, and proper supplies were put in along with the tools for a small machine shop and car repair area. We still would have plenty of room for product. We brought in a forklift and some dollys.

Finally after three days of testing, putting up shelving, plumbing, wiring, and building, Ahira and Sherrel came out of their fugue. It turns out the jumpsuits had waste management internal bits and the assistant team was used to feeding and watering the tinkers when they're in that kind of mood. They were both thrown in a decon shower and left in beds though afterward. There was some kind of device emitting an ominous hum in the corner of the lab.

The next morning, and by morning I mean around 4pm they both woke up. Whatever they had built was still humming away and occasionally emitting a faint glow. Sherrel called in several assistants to wheel the great glowing beast onto the main floor. Awed silence fell over the room.

Sherrel broke the silence with barked orders. "Donnie, Jordan! Get the tank hull from site six. I need four main mounts and a railway capacitor bank. Break out the last of the DPU, this is going to be fun!"

About four hours of creative chaos later the whatever it is was mounted to the front of what looked like a heavily armored subway car with caterpillar treads. The whole assemblage was put on a trailer and everyone went on a drive outside the city to an old quarry. On the hour-long trip Ahira was practically bouncing up and down in her seat. I asked her about the nature of the device and received excited babble. "I've never worked on a stealth system before! I usually only work on plasma manifolds for ship engines and melta guns but Sherry, she said I could call her Sherry, said my designs were just perfect for a new stealth idea!" I was filled with a sense of impending doom.

We sat at the bottom of the quarry. The vehicle was wheeled into place. Everyone cleared out to what was assumed to be a safe distance and we saw what looked to be something like a pilot light.

"Ten seconds until PT engine burn. Please put on your eyepro"

The crowd as one put on welding goggles. A cone of impossibly bright blue wite flame shot out of the front of the train, not spreading out but narrowing to a point like a drill.

"This is not stealthy!" I shouted above the roar of the plasma.

The plasma cone stabilized and became eerily silent. The light still spilled forth blazing like the sun. It shifted from blue white to white then just left an actinic afterimage as the flame shifted into the ultraviolet. Then the train started to move forward. It slowly picked up speed as it headed for the quarry wall. Then suddenly and silently it rammed into the wall and melted a hole in it large enough to fit the train car. No light escaped behind the train, and no sound was heard but the hiss of cooling stone and boeing water vapor.

"I stand corrected" I blinked and slowly lifted the welding mask. "Wait, stealth tank? Sherrel is Squealer? But she's fully dressed, no scars, and a brunette, and isn't Squealer like six inches taller and blonde?"

Blake leans in "Kayfabe my man."

Any explanation was interrupted by a squeak of excitement. Ahira jumped for joy as the train car slowly but silently drove through the rock and disappeared down a curve.

About 20 minutes later the train car came back through the original bore hole. Sherrel came out of the vehicle beaming like the sun.

"Ok it steers like a cow and you can't really see anything under there so you have to navigate basically by sonar, gps, and dead reckoning, and it eats exotic fuel like a fat kid at a buffet but damned if it isn't fun. This sure as shit won't be used for anything load bearing but I have always wanted to rob a bank. We could just tunnel into the vault, steal whatever doesn't burn and zip right out. It will be a fuckin riot! I'd not even give a shit if we get much money out of it, it all plays into the kayfabe anyway."

I had heard that word before but I couldn't place it. I made a note for later. Each person in twos and threes took a turn inside the vehicle. Ahira and Blake even got to drive it, then the whole gang headed home.

Ahira and I tested out the new larger bed in my little warehouse apartment and I'm not going to share anything else about that evening save that after an hour or two we were interrupted by a sudden change in air pressure followed by the screaming of twisted metal, the rumble of stone on stone and a huge thump like behemoth's footfall. I stepped into the warehouse proper to check on things and the entire right hand wall was missing. In its place there was a vista looking down over a 7500 acre fuel refinery. I went back to bed with Ahira and decided to worry about it in the morning.

Word Count 10,277

Roll 5 300 points -

13 11 0 RobCo Holotapes Fallout 4 Tech Database 300 A series of Holotapes detailing the blueprints for numerous Robco projects, including Protectrons, Assaultrons, Securitrons, and the various models of Pip-Boys. There's even a group of Holotapes detailing Liberty Prime's systems and construction. These Holotapes seem to be more advanced than the standard kind, and therefore there are only a few rather than the hundreds this amount of information would normally take up. 13.11.0-RobCo Holotapes(Fallout 4)(Tech Database)(300CP):A series of Holotapes detailing the blueprints for numerous Robco projects, including Protectrons, Assaultrons, Securitrons, and the various models of Pip-Boys. There's even a group of Holotapes detailing Liberty Prime's systems and construction. These Holotapes seem to be more advanced than the standard kind, and therefore there are only a few rather than the hundreds this amount of information would normally take up.

comes with

Starting Gear- You get faction appropriate clothing (normal clothes for Drop Ins and Railroad, a uniform for BOS, lab coat for Institute, and a hodge-podge of leather and scrap metal for Raiders) and your choice of a 10mm pistol, brass knuckles, a security baton, a machete, or a laser pistol (regular or Institute), as well as 100 Caps. (Free)

Radio Stations- On any radio that you own, you're capable of tuning into Diamond City Radio, a station run by Travis Miles, a nervous young man lacking confidence, or to "Raider Radio", which is run by Redeye, a boastful, compulsive liar. Diamond City Radio plays pre-War (1930s-1960s) music, with a few original songs from Magnolia, a singer from Goodneighbor, while Raider Radio only plays songs produced and played by Redeye on his guitar. They also commentate on your actions, as well as other important happenings in the rest of the world to a smaller extent. (Free)

RobCo Pip-Boy (Free)

The latest in handheld computing systems, coming in a wide variety of designs and

configurations. Whether you prefer the tablet-styled Pip-Boy 2000 with its various upgrade ports,

or you'd rather have a wrist computer such as the Pip-Boy 3000, this compact and potent

computer will serve you well during your time here. Carrying a built-in Geiger Counter, medical

analysis suite, mapping and database functionality, input/output ports compatible with a wide

range of other hardware, and more besides, this device is one of the most versatile personal

assistants on the market today. Not that that's saying much, given that the market is a ruined

hellhole, but you get the idea.

- Bobbleheads (Free)

One of the most popular icons to come out of the Pre-War world, the Vault Boy (and Vault Girl)

were immortalized in everything from posters to software to these: genuine Vault-Tec

Bobbleheads. You get a full collection of every bobblehead made for the series, the perfect

memento to remember your time in Fallout by. These Bobbleheads are only decorations,

providing no boosts to any 'base stats' like they did in, for example, Fallout 3.

Chapter 5: Chapter 4

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

I awoke surrounded by horrifying cheerful gnomes with beady black eyes and hungry smiles. As I moved their heads wobbled eerily, lit by a pale green phosphor glow. I screamed and kicked. Ahira woke up and more than a dozen blue suited bobbleheads that had been somehow placed on and around me in the night were flung across the room. The phosphor glow was coming from my wrist. A strange cross between a smartphone, a blood pressure cuff, and a bracer was strapped to me. It beeped as if in a panic as my heart raced. I noticed it was displaying my vital signs. Not creepy at all, just a random piece of tech bolted to me showing how close I am to death or apparently irradiation. The fact that whatever person made this thing needed to have a standardized metric for how close to death one might be was no reason to worry whatsoever.

I am only human so I started playing with the buttons, at first to try and find a latch to take it off and then just fiddling around with the interface. It has ports and connectors for a dozen different formats including usb. Flashlight, radio, something that uses a momentum detector to make a gps-like map without needing satellites, some RFID reader thing, some inertial sensor that helps track whatever items you are carrying, day planner, touch based command line OS, multiple radio-like things, some of it is actual radio some of it seems to connect to local transmissions for am, fm, cb, military band, and a few other things. It tracks medical status and has a geiger counter and for some reason a radiation sensor for inside the body. No need to panic there.

The most interesting thing it has is its archive. Manuals, plans, and books detailing methods of doing first aid, repairing mechanical devices, creating an OS from scratch, building and maintaining another device like this one apparently called a Pip Boy. and finally a complete archive of RobCo products. That is not a small list and as the name would suggest it included robots. Lots of robots of various uses, and all of it is comprehensible. There's no tinkertech this is very similar to US Army field manuals in that it is clearly made to be followed easily by someone with a mediocre high school education and explains all of the necessary theory and methods simply and clearly. Now it may be time to panic. If the government finds out I have this they will totally kill me. Plus side, I am in an organization with at least two tinkers so we can probably fake it so long as we put in a self-destruct to keep people from finding out how they are made.

During this time screaming, kicking, flailing then calmly fiddling with a machine my bedmate has sat up and started looking over my shoulder at the device. I only really noticed this when she reached over me and squealed.

"Oh Throne! That has it! Look, several of these use biological components. There are animal brains and other neural tissue as part of the makeup. As promised you can start the synthesis of base mater and true flesh!"

I was once again placed in Marshmallow hell. It was lovely. As the covers were knocked off of me I noticed I was dressed differently. As she rubbed against me she found something hard pressing into her.

"Again? I'm excited too but I don't know if this is the time. Then again this does call for a celebration!" She smiles with half lidded eyes.

I am baffled. I don't think I have a fear boner. I reach down and find out it is in fact a gun in my pocket and while I am happy to see her I am still a bit worn out from before. The gun is listed as an AER9 Laser pistol. It's cleaning, loading and maintenance instructions are in the files along with a few other weapons but those seem to be predominantly for robot use. She takes the gun from my hand and this time doesn't even pretend to hide her squeals of delight. She practically flies over to the workbench to get her mechadendrites all over the shiny new tech.

I take a place next to her at the bench but I am instead copying every file in this thing onto a portable drive and an air gapped laptop. I wanted backups but who knows what kind of breaker thinker tinker bullshit is online and I didn't and at time of writing still don't want this known. This is also the moment when I started logging locations, materials, people, the information I had gathered up to this point and started the record that if you are reading this, you are reading right now. Hello!

Both of us were merrily tinkering away, not in the parahuman sense just fiddling with shiny new toys and ignoring the world. I was working mostly on making a fork off of RobCos so I could interface with my new gear and no one else could. Plus by studying it I would get a better handle on how the various techno-organic intelligences we would put together would think. Looking through a language that could encode working thoughts is a trip and very useful for distracting us from the elephant in the room. Or rather the elephant that now contained our room.

Our little apartment now had bay windows that looked out onto several thousand acres of land covered in machinery. The sheer scope of the place dwarfed our already sizable warehouse. I had a feeling that what was once going to be a brief road trip was about to go much further and have many more stops.

Over the next few hours Ahira and I ate, played around with the new toys, worked on projects and left the comfort of our apartment to head out onto the main factory floor for parts and mats. We settled into a steady rhythm and were having fun. The radio stations coming from the Pip Boy were upbeat and swingy, nothing either of us had ever heard but we did end up dancing a little as we worked.

Between Ahira's cybernetic upgrades, Sherrel's parahuman fueled fugues and the teams of people and assistants on the main floor I was feeling a fair bit of tinker envy. Everyone else by dint of practice, equipment, skill, or power could make wonders in mere minutes while I was stuck monkeywrenching at a crawl like some kind of chump. My first hardware build was going to be a Mr Handy. Specifically one specced for building and rapid repair. I knew I wouldn't be finishing it anytime soon but the faster I got it done the more quickly I would be able to work on anything else. The eternal tools-to-make-tools cycle of the crafter had its hooks in me.

It was late in the afternoon when I noticed that our little pocket world had a sun and a day/night cycle. The uniform grey skies that shone above the massive machine building were due to cloudcover not an inherent property of the sky. The sky flashed green briefly as the sun set, then it looked like the clouds had all caught fire. From the apartment overlooking the acreage the gleam of the sun off of the metal forest of pipes shone like a sea of rubies. Then Devon came into the warehouse to drop off some servos.

"What the entire everloving fuck is this?!" she asked.

Ahira looked up from her gunsmithing. "Judging by the large landing areas there and there." She pointed with a screwdriver, "and the drydocks there I'd say is a fuel depot for capital through carrier class interplanetary warships."

At this point I turned and looked at her. "When were you going to mention that?"

"I don't know, I thought you knew, I mean chosen by the machine spirits. I thought it just came with that kind of thing." She shrugs and returns to her work.

"Whosen of the what now?" Devon looked equal parts confused and amused.

"I don't suppose I could convince you to forget this?" a brittle smile appeared on my face as my old friend panic began creeping up my neck.

"I tell you what. I am definitely going to tell the boss about having a much bigger warehouse than before with a fuel depot in it. I'm willing to chalk up all that chosen of the machine spirits stuff to some roleplaying kink between you and your lady if you make me one of those bracer things." She eyed my Pip Boy hungrily.

"Pleasure doing business with you. It should be ready by next week, Faster if you can get me some burner phones." I breathed a little easier.

"Well I am gonna tell the boss that we have a lot more storage space than before. You should probably figure out what's up with the depot. If you need any Timmies to go in ahead of you I'm sure I could rustle some up." Devon quickly turned and began to leave the warehouse.

"No, I think I've got it. Better to keep as few people knowing what's what as possible. I can just take my time if it seems unsafe."

I began doing an equipment check. I apparently now had equipment besides the Pip Boy and Lab Coat. My new pockets contained brass knuckles, a knife, a 10mm pistol, a machete and a sack full of bottle caps. I ditched the bottle caps, added a flashlight, toolkit and a thermos full of soup and set off into the chrome wilderness. Ahira followed.

I thought I had several miles of hiking ahead of me but when I crossed the barrier where my right hand wall used to be a distant woosh was heard and a tram sped along rails and stopped in front of us. It had rounded edges and smooth but bulbous curves. It looked like someone had taken the design aesthetic of a 40's volkswagen beetle expanded and extended to fit a streetcar. It had all round fenders and a domed top in bold jewel tones. The seats were plush cloth of some sort with five point harnesses on each seat. A glowing icon indicated that the vehicle would not move until the restraints were properly fastened. We buckled up. Surprisingly the seats and the seatbelts worked comfortably for both someone of my size and Ahira's with no problem. The seats tilted somewhat and we accelerated.

My new shiny wrist computer informed me that we were subject to 3 G's of acceleration stress before we slowed and stopped. The trip through the forest of shining pipes was surprisingly scenic from within. There was an elegance to the color coded sections of rail and tube flowing around and through the track. The tram stopped in a large train station, reminiscent of the strange glass flows of Hungerburg station. We disembarked and the sounds of our footfalls echoed oddly in the empty chamber. Lights flickered on and we heard HVAC systems fire up. A fountain in the station began to fill and play gentle music.

Several glowing panels on the wall flickered to life thankfully labeled in english along with several dozen other languages, some completely nonhuman. I looked toward the place on the map labeled control office and we got in what we hoped was an elevator. It was at least something similar. It was a small tubular glass room that moved along a series of magnetic rails in many different directions but glided along so smoothly we couldn't feel the motion at all. Our ride ended in front of large orange vault doors. There was a clank and a slow whirring and then the doors opened to reveal a room much like the control console of a nuclear plant. A set of three monitors flanked a large office chair which floated above the ground. Several other chairs, these ones attached to their console stations, had their own screens and controls. I stood in awe, Ahira shoved me into the chair.

As I sat the controls came to life and the monitors flickered with readouts. As I looked at them their language resolved into english. The first monitor allowed choice of fuel type, the second amount, and the third method of delivery or port to feed out from. Not being a great fool I read the instructions first and found out that this facility was mothballed and meant to be used as a deep space refueling depot, synthesizing its own fuel from some kind of cosmic radiation and reaction mass and made to work unmanned for thousands of years if necessary. More fine point controls, access, and the environmental and habitat facilities were made to house and feed crews while ships refueled and made to let executives decide who is permitted and what the price of fuel would be for each customer. For all its glory and grand architecture this was an interstellar Gas 'n' Gulp made to be staffed by a random yokel with no education for minimum wage. I was certainly qualified to use it, now I just had to figure out what to do with it.

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Chapter 6: Chapter 5

Notes:

This is a call for Beta readers. I really need some.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

So I rode down I-95 at 3 am in an invisible minivan at 175 mph watching a video Ahira had recorded. On a related note I vowed to get better soundproofing for anything I didn't want her cyber ears to hear, and better signal jamming on anything I didn't want her electronic eyes to see. Through the crack in the warehouse door she saw and heard Giuseppe come through the lab airlock like a raging bull.

"Sherry you dizzy bitch, get the kid into a van yesterday!" he bellowed.

"You don't come into my lab and talk to me like that! We're making so much progress, he's got practically a city in there and we can." She was suddenly cut off.

"It doesn't fucking mater what he can do or what you're planning if he never gets to do it. We got a guy that works like that Circus broad only not as good and that's what the world is gonna see. We start moving cities worth of product at a go and Watchdogs will have us snapped up like rare steak. Do you want that to happen to us? To him? Use your fucking loaf for five seconds." His face is red, panting. He looks like he might pass out. One of a pair of young muscular men flanking him hands him an inhaler.

"We've been making engines that.." Sherrel protests. She is cut off by the hiss of an inhaler and a very angry old man.

"Fuck your engines. They aren't going to be worth shit if you get snapped up to spend all your days trying to launch satellites for the government and get Simurghed. Hell, if you want your golden goose and her boy toy to live out another few months you'll send them out of town while we cover things up or he'll end up the next Strider. You want that for them? Filled full of tinker amphetamines and forced to be a fucking taxi into war zones? Handcuffed to the goddamned skunkworks making the next round of useless "endbringer killers". City in a can? It's like a ten thousand dollar bill. Technically worth the money but you can't fucking spend it. Better to pretend he's a couple of hundies and take him on a tour until the next semester starts so everything can be fucking normal. Gimme the keys to the Renault. I'm sending Sammy and Todd with to look out for them."

The Renault:

"Todd's a fuckwit." Sherrel grumbles.

"He's a fuckwit that knows other fuckwits around the country and they trust him. Sammy's there to be competent, Todd's there to be loyal."

One of the bodyguards hands Sherrel a backpack full of odds and sods that clank against each other.

"These are the exotics you wanted. Somehow fuckwit Todd got his hands on some iridium, it's yours now. Maybe think about apologizing. Gene get the fucking keys to the Renault and met us by bay 6. Davey, get someone to go in there and fetch wonderboy and she hulk." Giuseppe sat down on a stool in the lab looking exhausted after his diatribe. He took another deep drag from the inhaler and looked up as if praying. Sherrel opened the bag and found several things that nearly made her live up to her name. She put her hand on Giuseppe's shoulder.

"I'm sorry Uncle Joe, I just see all these beautiful things we can do. Last night I dreamed of starships." She holds up the iridium, metal not of this world. He pats her hand.

"I know, kid, I know. Maybe you and he figure out a way to go to earth Aleph or Gimel or maybe Resh or Qof. We figure out how to make spaceships there where there's no endbringers and no fucking PRT. We have one dimensional gate up this kid's ass, maybe two if what you told me is right and you're twice the tinker that Haywire chump ever was. Just, we do this subtle, we don't need heat. Capisce?" He kisses the back of her hand and she looks down at him with resigned affection.

"I get it, I'mma go make sure the crew doesn't fuck up the van, we'll grab dinner later ok?" She gives him a quick, one armed, hug.

"Sure Bella, let's do that." He smiles and has the remaining bodyguard help him up and they all leave the lab.

I pop off the ear buds and take my face away from the Pip Boy's screen. Finding out it can interface with Ahira's cybernetics and figuring out how to have it output to a more modern color screen were both quick and useful. Normally on a long car trip I would be looking out the windows and watching the scenery go by. I had tried this earlier and nearly shat myself at the high speed maneuvering of the seemingly normal minivan. Maybe it was whatever inertial trickery that let Squealer's tanks move smoothly under an impossible amount of armor but as long as I didn't look out the windows it seemed like we were simply riding along at maybe 30 or 40 miles an hour, A second's look outside gave lie to that feeling so I had buried myself in the offered video.

Now the video had finished I looked around the interior of the car.

Ahira and I were in the back seats. Sammy was driving and Todd was riding shotgun, occasionally tossing dice up, catching them in a cup and then calling out turns. He was using an old paper truckers' map that had been marked up and annotated and everyone's cell phones had had their gps turned off when we entered the vehicle. The Pip Boy's mapmaker, not dependent on external signal kept track of our position and mapped the area quite handily. Eventually I was helping Todd with his navigator's duties as the Pip Boy's scanners were more up to date than the older maps and could warn us of at least some of the traffic or accidents ahead. Invisibility doesn't much help if the road is actually blocked.

My curiosity overcame me "What are the dice about?"

Todd grinned like a loon "Thinker walk. They can't predict where you're going if you don't know yourself! Plus it makes it feel more like an rpg. Random encounter checks and all. Helps keep me focused on navigating instead of drifting off"

"That's either very smart or deeply stupid and I have no idea which."

Sammy broke their usual silence "Knowing Todd, probably both. But it's kept us out of trouble before so we keep doing it."

Todd's enthusiasm just grew. "Ever play Rally-X or Jet Rocket? Best arcade games ever. These trips are just like Rally-X maps. Totally led to the Miami Vice franchise and a whole bunch of copycats. I hear Aleph has a sequel to the series called GTA and it's fucking awesome. Can you get Aleph transmissions on that thing if we're close enough to the aperture? I bet you can!" Todd trailed off into incomprehensible geek speak. This is different from the usual nerdery around the labs partially because I am an actual programmer so I know how to speak that, whereas he is a gamer and it is a very different perspective. It is partially different because I couldn't give a flying fuck at a rolling donut about the history of video games or the aesthetics of open world racing. Ok it was not at all different and I understood everything he said. It was even relevant to the workings of my new mapper and probably ultimately useful to both this trip and our later plans. I just found him personally kind of annoying so I let his babbling lull me to sleep as I reclined the bucket seat and actively ignored our journey. I put my arm in Ahira's lap and let her use the Pip Boy to help Todd navigate. I still hadn't figured out how to reliably remove it without damaging it but at least her scans showed that an internal uv light and alcohol reservoir were keeping the arm under the bracer clean and sanitary.

When we all got out to stretch our legs a little while later Sammy and I geeked out a bit about our ride. Turns out I was wrong. Except for the cloaking device and a little bit of exotic material for armor the car had almost no tinkertech in it at all. Some time in the 90's some mad bastards made a minvan out of an F1 racecar and sometime about twelve years ago the plans were put online. This was the product of hobbyists with full access to a chop shop, an almost unlimited amount of car parts and nothing but free time since their jobs went belly up. It weighed in at 1,300kg, did 0-62mph in 2.8secs and had a top speed of 193mph pre exotic alloy thanks to the 3.5-litre V10 motor that produced 789bhp and 520lb ft and could rev up to 13,800rpm, mated to a six-speed semi-automatic sequential gearbox. All this despite having the aerodynamic profile of a brick. The inclusion of maybe 10 kilos of metamaterials in small amounts on some of the more heat sensitive and more easily stressed parts did nothing for its acceleration but brought it's top speed to 250 mph.

Metamaterials required a tinker to invent but unlike tinker devices, chemicals, alloys, and many biological products could be replicated through mundane means . When an entire set of shipyards, trainyards, auto manufacturing, and industrial chemical plants went under leaving a mere few medication processing facilities Brocton got a lot of skilled workers with a lot of STEM degrees and fuck all to do with them. The Merchant's were well known for taking in the homeless, the destitute and the lost. Something normal Americans never ever considered is that people like them with good degrees and union jobs might end up among their numbers. No one ever thinks about the lives of the poor before they became poor or just how few paychecks there are between the middle class suburban box home and the cardboard box in the alley.

The Merchants take in all of these and offer drugs to calm their grief and pain, jobs to occupy their hands, and fellowship to keep their souls intact. They are not good people. They were ruthlessly exploiting their own folks to get skilled labor at a fraction of its worth and keep people in debt to their own version of the company store, but you don't have to be a good person to be the best choice available. The bar is pretty low with the other options being dying in a ditch, working for or becoming slavers or actual goddamn Nazis. Shit, they recruited me with threats of violence, and blackmail but already I was safer inside their aegis than I ever was on campus alone. The thoughts made me nauseous as we drove along the abandoned streets. Then again maybe it was the carsickness.

No one in the car but Todd knew where our current destination was. We could guess it was one of eight or 64 possible destinations as he threw a small diamond shaped die to determine from a list and then further determine our rough heading. A handful of other platonic solids determined things like how many miles to detour or number of traffic lights to wait until switching direction. All of this was determined by some arcane process in Todd's head.

Over several rest stops, smoke breaks and random detours we got to know each other. Sammy is genderfluid, responds to basically any pronoun and doesn't really care but very much does not like being told to do things like man up or be more femme. Not exactly androgenous but very gender fluid. I only noticed because they would change their choice of bathroom at various stops, and on the rare occasion we talked about our childhoods the shifting of topics over whether they were a boy scout or a girl scout. None of us pried, it was a couple of awkward sentences and Sammy almost never spoke anyway so we moved on to discussing knot tying and knife care without any more forays into how or where any of us may have picked up the skills.

We've already spoken about Todd but this was the first time I realized that Ahira was some kind of space muslim. Five times a day she would pray towards a constellation called "The Throne" and she had very specific dietary requirements. Some of which were because of her synthetic digestive tract but others she explained were purely spiritual in nature. Her religion itself seemed a lot like Zoroastrianism with a figure of golden holy light called the Emperor of Man beset by various creatures of chaos and darkness. She personally prayed to some kind of intercessor spirit like a saint or a budhist teacher called the machine spirit and sought something called the true flesh. It kind of lost me from there but she wasn't looking for converts. She thoroughly believed I was some kind of sacred prophet of the machine spirit so I didn't really want to go into it too much lest I find out some kind of standard I was not living up to or display too much ignorance. She had grown up in a kind of Kibbutz where all of the children were raised together by some kind of professional teachers and child rearers but except for the tech level her childhood wasn't that far off from my own or Sammy's. Urban, low ish income but not totally destitute, worked like crazy to get scholarships to go to a college and work even harder. We all bonded a bit over our shared dislike of scholarship review committees and bizarre academic breadth requirements.

Todd was from a rancher family out in the Rockies, he didn't say where and grew up a fair bit more affluent but somewhere that did not respect or even permit his obsession with video games and programming. He loved the horses on the farm but definitely didn't much like raising animals for the slaughter. He still ate meat but usually chicken or pork. He wouldn't touch beef if he could help it, he kept having dreams of the cows looking at him. Man went through like a gallon of chocolate milk on the trip though. We did find out that he was actually the best of us with knots as he could actually use a lasso with something approaching expertise as he used it to grab some debris as we drove past and do a couple of rope tricks at a rest stop.

After what seemed like a very short eternity we rolled up into Charm City and Todd told us we had reached our destination as the sun came up. Good morning Baltimore!

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In case you are wondering how travel times are figured out will use the google maps listed travel time. The road switching and random turns are cancelled out by the car being invisible and going 125-150 mph on normal roads, much more in the midwestern straightaways.

Chapter 7: Chapter 6

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

If you're wondering why the noise in the background I'm being shot at by blasters. More on this log if I survive, if not whoever gets this please return this log to 815 Broad street Brockton Bay and have whoever is there get it to my parents.

Emergency log entry User: Ahira. With the assistance of Avarice we are building and installing emergency prosthesis in Chosen Micah. Ribs pulverized, several internal organs liquefied. He is currently surviving off of my own biosystems. We are in the transport heading to a nearby safe house where medical assistance has been promised. After action report follows:

We arrived at our destination at 06:30. We were greeted by forces allied to our trade group. The spatial anomaly was opened and our pilot, navigator, myself and the chosen engaged in menial labor loading and unloading boxes using crude mechanized load lifters. After several hours we broke for refreshments. Allied workers were not permitted inside the anomaly but did assist once the packages were clear of the aperture.

We took refreshments and tended to personal hygiene. The accommodations were more geared towards luxury than efficiency. The towels were very soft. I arrived in the middle of an altercation. Recording follows.

"So all this is fake like wrestling?!"

A sonic boom sounds and a sharp smack is heard.

"Shut your whore mouth!. Is ballet fake? Is Shakespere? Is rhythmic gymnastics? are the precision flight drill of the Blue fucking Angels fake?! The word you are looking for is staged. Wrestling is staged. Multiple athletes tuned to perfection engage in improvisational and athletic theater that may well be the only American continuous tradition of theater-in-the-round left. You know what's fake? Your giant girlfriend's tits are fake!"

"You lay of Ahira right now or-"

"No, no he is correct. My mammaries are still primarily made of fats and glands like a common animal. I have only managed to modify the left one with true flesh, although I have managed to add a non-newtonian ballistics gel to help protect my internal circulatory system!"

I provided a demonstration of the modifications in question by removing their pseudoflesh covering. It seemed to pacify the room and end the altercation. We were seconded to a local codename:Schroedinger and outfitted with several pyrotechnic devices and visual chaff. Our mission was to place the pieces in question while cloaked to prepare the battlefield for later use.

On reaching the target zone we began placing the charges. It seems one or more of the locals had spotted us and contacted their parahuman response team For reasons unknown we were beset by their junior combatant unit.

Sammy and I were cut off from the Chosen by a psychokinetic field created by Codename:Tortoiseshell. Attempts to breach it through kinetic force and low end las pistols were futile. At Sammy's instruction we switched from a defensive placeholding battle to a more aggressive stance.

What appeared to be a mutant with canine features but later turned out to be a child in power armor codename:Houndstooth fell remarkably swiftly to a mix of nonlethal las rounds and visual chaff provided by Sammy. The blaster Codename:Fret then turned their attention to me and I felt the sudden pressure of some form of psychic sense wafting over me.

Lethal force was contraindicated by the ranking officer in the field and I had no ordinance that would be less than lethal on unarmored targets so I left the alley, taking a strong sonic blast to the right arm but pushing past to shoot at Tortoiseshell. My lasers had no effect so I judged his forcefield tough enough to withstand low powered melta fire.

I had lost visual on Sammy but soon discovered where he had gone after hiding in the visual chaff. I saw Fret fly backwards a few feet and the door of the van shimmer into view. A low impact collision was enough to get him out of the fight without significant injury. Sammy had noticed an additional armored foe (Codename:Acanthus) wearing some kind of protective symbiote. He requested lowest power melta fire on the plant based enemy and I obliged. The outermost layer of the armor caught but no harm appeared to be happening to the enemy inside besides an amount of panic.

At this point the hidden pyrotechnics went off. Our allies appeared to rob the local jewelry store and found the fight already in progress. A sudden sonic boom followed by an automatic weapon firing wildly into the air announced the appearance of the Skin-z and their intent to rob the place. Their villainous monologue was interrupted by Tortoiseshell enclosing him in his force ball and letting the Chosen go.

During his time locked in the energy prison Micah had managed to arm and partially armor himself with equipment from the warehouse. He could not enter himself but he could reach in to grab the ready supplies within arm's reach of the door through his pants pockets. He had produced a beanbag shotgun. Gas mask and a flak vest. He moved close to Tortoiseshell and pointed the shotgun at his leg. Recording follows:

"Drop the ball, from here even if you enclose yourself you'll enclose me in with you. Now everyone be cool. No one here needs to shoot any glark"

Enemy codenamed Fret had regained consciousness enough to fire off a poorly controlled sonic blast. It rammed through the Chosen's chest cavity and part of Tortoiseshell's side. Both fell to the floor in a heap. That's when the Protectorate showed up. I felt a three foot long spear of ice pierce my orbital socket and through one of my redundant processors. I leapt towards the Chosen and felt more than saw Acanthus leap towards his fallen comrade. As we came close I felt my burner phone given by the merchants complete a handshake. His did the same.

"You're the guys Todd brought to do the farm pickup? What the fuck? you were supposed to be low profile. And he never said you were capes." He whispered, showing significant vocal stress.

"This Team was seconded to the local Skin-Z as part of a PR Operation helmed by Director Carr. We were instructed that you would not be using significant force. Our briefing was clearly in error. " I spat as bits of lingua technis escaped my voicebox.

The Chosen was fading fast. I began hooking my emergency life support systems to his. Acanthus was having significantly better luck patching the wounds of his teammate.

Concurrently several attacks continued behind us. My reduced visual and auditory capacities only managed to catch so much. Avarice had managed to spot weld Codename: Silverback to a nearby tow truck. Sonic was flickering around the battlefield making it impossible to hear much of anything. Aerobat was clashing with Avarice now. Both were melee combatants but one could fly while the other could tank very powerful hits. Then Sammy ran the van into Codename:Sliver, shattering many of her icicles.

With a bright glow and audible music Codename:Fanfare descended onto the scene. They clearly had not been fully briefed on the changing battle situation. The began their own heroic monologue before being hit in the head with a baton by Schroedinger. Fanfare had a very strong luminous and exothermic reaction and began to charge some manner of energy strike. Before a voice cut through the noise.

"Help! Somebody please help!"

Todd had somehow managed to wrap Sonic's arm around his neck and was acting as a hostage. Luckily none of the heroes had thermal vision so they could not see the look of utter bafflement on Sonic's face before he straightened up and shimmered partially into view.

"That's right, You may have us this time Fanfare you may have stopped us getting the Count's emeralds this time but you wont risk getting this innocent hurt! Let us and our men go and you can retrieve your pitiful children."

"How do I know you will keep your word, villain!" Fanfare looked visibly relieved at things returning to script.

Sonic handed Todd to one of the Schroedinger clones who put a knife to his throat.

"We will leave the civilian here with Schroedinger and he will dissolve the clone in ten minutes once we are away."

Avarice joined me assisting the Chosen. He pulled some of the biometalic plates off of my skin and I directed him how to slide them into place to preserve the Chosen's vital functions. THe connection of his system to an onboard medical scanner was proving quite fortuitous but He was still likely to die in the next few hours without special materials. I began the process of disabling my own internal systems to place his brain into my shell in my place. I began explaining the process to Avarice when Acanthus grabbed my wrist. He explained that he had the necessary medical equipment in a grey site on the farm where we were originally going to make the pickup. It was only 20 minutes out of town and he would claim to need to go to his lab for healing materials for the other Protectorate heroes and slip away.

All combatant's withdrew. Someone among the Skin-Z or the PRT made sure the police and state troopers would not be watching along certain roads so the van shot along them at its top speed without its cloaking system. A separate car pulled up minutes later with Acanthus.

Together we carried the Chosen into a very modern greenhouse and carefully lowered him into a tank full of fleshy plants and reddish algae. Obscenely large coconuts fed a pale fluid into the tank. We lowered him in and carefully removed the foreign material from his body. HIs plasma was replaced with the bizarre sap and tendrils grew through his soft tissues and organs. They shaped themselves into appropriate substitutes. I was assured that they were primarily scaffolding to allow natural healing and regeneration to be possible but that he will need to get at least 3 hours of sunlight a day if possible. Grow lamps will suffice on overcast days. He will need to take a very high protein diet and engage in physical therapy to fully recover. Upon that announcement the Chosen one woke up swearing.

POV Micah

Fuck! PT again! I just went through two years of this shit. But the kid knows his stuff and luckily it should only be a couple of months this time just to make sure all the new tissues are settled in. Plus my eyesight and skin are better and I no longer have a walnut allergy. I have been told I will regenerate more quickly than a normal person but only until the symbiote passes out of my system and I feel no need to test it.

I open the doorway and sink back into the tank. The rest of the crew can load and unload whatever shit is going on. I can't get out of this place fast enough. I sit and listen to Ahira's recording. On the one hand I nearly died. But the cape scene here still isn't as fatal as Brockton Bay. On a related note I am never going to call wrestling fake again. Dying is easy, improv is hard.

Prt Cape Profile:

Team Designation Smoke and Mirrors

A villain team, small time focused around the procurement and distribution of minor narcotics. No permanent location. Informants have mentioned seeing them as far south as Florida, investigation into possible connection to Central American Narco gangs is suggested. Threat level low. Preferred methodology appears to be simple insertion, misdirection and escape. Only one of their number, Melta is particularly combat capable and she seems conflict averse when her teammates are in trouble.

File name Stash: Mover 3 Breaker 2 Shaker 1

Stash has the power to put away and withdraw objects from a "Pocket space" any object must be able to at least fit one end of it into the pocket but is not limited by length or composition. Possible similarity to known independent Circus.

File name Melta: Tinker 2 Blaster 4 brute 3

Melta can fire variable intensity blasts of laser or plasma fire in a variety of beam sizes and shapes. She also appears to have some form of false flesh body armor perhaps to cover burn scars from previous prototypes. She appears distressed when Stash is harmed and they are likely connected.

File Name Smoke: Stranger 2 Blaster 1

Smoke generates some form of explosive full of either smoke or bits of reflective chaff. He has also shown the ability to conceal large objects in this chaff but not himself or other people. He is limited in his range but can affect multiple targets at once.

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AN: This was a weird one. The location, conflict outcome, and timing were all decided by dice roll. A split surprise to me was that Baltimore is fleshed out in the wormverse but only starting in 2012 so we are well pre-Kenzie and we are during the ignominious reign of PRT Director Alfred Carr and well before he has been caught fixing cape fights.

Today we learned a bit more about Kayfabe.

For those of you that may not be familiar, here are the folks we introduced and where they came from.

AN Supplemental: later looking things over revealed details unknown when writing this chapter but I think I am going to just plow through. I hope not to offend.

Baltimore protectorate for this fic:

Mayday - canon - haven't figured out but they are going to be on console so fuckit

Aerobat - canon - Flyer with gymnastics, super proprioception, uses thrown blunt objects and batons.

Shiver - rpg- Becomes and shoots shards of long, needle thin ice

2 more that were fired for fixing fights were created as OC's they are mentioned but never explicitly named. One needs to be the leader

Silverback - turns into a giant metal ape

Leader: Fanfare - brute/breaker/shaker glows gets stronger the more people are paying attention to him.

Wards

Tortoiseshell, barrier hero later Turtleshell when he ages out of the wards, Makes Opaque spheres of force (Canon Baltimore protectorate hero)

Houndstooth armor hero, dog mask (canon ward)

Check, Combat thinker. Must focus on a single parahuman target at a time but can tell how to defeat them with the items to hand. (OC) on console but giving advice to the team, Sammy and Ahira give him trouble leading to significantly sloppier than usual results.

Acanthus (Would later be named Bramble in 2012, RPG) Sorry folks when I wrote this chapter I only saw Know Where You live: Baltimore. So I figured since he was kind of a dork and not listed as any age he could be A ward now even though he was in the Protectorate proper 3 years later. Due to some later searching I found out he was 36 in 2011 so it doesn't quite jibe. That being said it doesn't jibe for me either because I thought they got rid of everyone who was in the capefight fixing thing so him still being around after the scandal blew over is a little sus. So this version is still a ward when all this goes down. Sorry to the many of you who may already be invested in Bramble's life from the quest if you'd like I will rename this character or try to fit in a new one.

He is a Merchant's contact who helps run a large Grow Op near Glen Arm. He is a plant tinker. At this point in his career he doesn't want to make bioweapons and he mostly only grows cannabis strains and insists that they be given free to those in need. He has already been burned by government promises that his work would be used medicinally, instead they have him growing tranqs for brutes. He is listed as a tremendous dork, this is how he knows Todd. He uses knockout gas 'seeds' and wooden armor and vines to entangle.

Fret - channels sonic blasts from hands, guitar themed, uses guitar to help precision. (OC)

Bad Guys (Skin-Z) Skin-Z is listed as one of the oldest still active parahuman gangs in Baltimore so it stands to reason they were there during the fake fight years. They even have powers that lend themselves to that kind of shenanigans. One can be in two places at once, one can be fairly invisible and make loud noises, another can wear metal armor while also making metal human shaped things or even mirror as needed. They are also specifically mentioned as the major drug gang so likely to work with Merchants

Sonic can become invisible air shimmer, line of sight teleports but leaves a sonic bang when he does. Secretly does not actually have to be the visible shimmer, can just stand still and be air.

Schrodinger splits into 2 people, becomes whichever is least hurt every minute (fun fact, actually splits into 3) and has a mandatory refresh at 1 hour, the 1 minute drop and reform is an act. The real cycle that makes him have to "re-form" after an hour is just his third copy cycling

Avarice - tactile metalkinetic. Is basically what they seem. People tend not to realize they could use projectiles though. Doesn't do so in public.

Chapter 8: Chapter 7

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

I'm not updating the combat log. Ahira pretty nailed everything that happened and definitely had recordings when I didn't. The only parts she missed were the parts where I was stuck in the force bubble. I basically spent all of that time reaching around inside the entryway by undignifiedly grasping around in my pockets. I am super glad that we decided to put the prep kit by the door. It enabled me to get armed and armored and probably saved my life. I did have to spend about an hour though refreshing, repacking and re-positioning everything once I was out of the tank, but it was something easy that didn't involve heavy lifting I could concentrate on. Plus having had to grab shit during combat I decided to make some differently shaped plastic fobs on the ends of paracord and tie the cord to the various objects to make it easier to find and snag what I need. I do not want it to take nearly so long next time.

Grabbing the vest with the heavy duty plates might have been better for me. Then again it might just mean plastic shrapnel shooting through me so jury's out. I think I am going to maybe take self defense a little more seriously. Still not boxing, fuck that, but I think I might try stunt fighting or gymnastics, something that teaches how to dodge and fall without hurting. For offense the plan is laser. I know that some folks say I should still learn fisticuffs but 1. I can never truly be unarmed. 2. I really really really don't like being punched. 3. Laser go pew pew.

After everything was loaded and stowed we got in the van again and rolled our destination, Missoula, Montana. No one in the car had ever even heard of it so we damned sure weren't going to tip off any thinkers about our business there. Todd knew it was an optional pack for the Far Cry series so at least we might know a few things about the layout. Sammy volunteered that it was the birthplace of David Lynch and that was basically it. A few hours were spent explaining the concept of Lynchean as opposed to lynchings to Ahira and trying to find a site where we could torrent Twin Peaks. I think I might have had the first entertainment choice so far this trip when I suggested we watch Dune instead.

The trip was long enough that we actually traded off driving shifts. We were all familiar enough with Todd's method of navigation that one of us could play navigator while another drove. The other two whoever they were would sleep or watch TV or whatever in the warehouse.

Something that did come of all this was everyone was far more refreshed than they normally would be on these kinds of trips and Ahira and Sammy worked together on a way to refuel the van from inside without it or us exploding.

Sammy had rigged a zippered flap into the interior roof of the car so everyone could smoke whatever they preferred and the smoke would go into the warehouse and not stink up the car or impede visibility. The few times it looked like it might, a pause at a truck stop to buy a fan and put it inside the door worked wonders. Between Ahira being able to play with solder, Todd being able to take advantage of the product we recently picked up, Sammy being able to smoke their horrific bidi cigars, and me being able to breathe, everyone was a lot mellower and friendlier.

Anyone could stretch their legs or take a shit whenever they wanted without having to convince the rest of the car. People could go for a walk and get fresh air on the fuel depot grounds. We had figured out a way for the depot to make and output the kind of fuel the van needed so seeing as how we had enough to fuel several aircraft carriers we didn't need to really stop for anything. We still did sometime either because the dice said so or to check out things like the world's largest rubber band ball, but the trip overall only took two days.

Over those two days the extra space was very important but still two of us had to be in the car at all times and we rotated which combo it was. I found out a few things. We heard things from the Pip Boy radio and thought we had genuine, if one way, contact with another earth. Then they looped with the announcers even playing the same things. From what we could tell the signal was coming from another world but we no longer had any evidence that human life was still present on it and that was kind of depressing.

Regarding the radio discussion Todd likes Skynyrd, really really likes Skynyrd. Tried to convince us to detour for a tribute band show levels of liking Skynyrd he also likes other classic rock. Sammy likes the music of All, Not all music, as we nearly had a who's-on-first moment but he likes the band that shared a lot of members with the band The Descendants. It's name is ALL. They existed before search engines so this was not as big a problem as it is now in terms of finding their records. They also liked much of the rest of Fat Wreck Cords' catalogue, and 90s punk in general.

Ahira has very narrow but eclectic tastes, speed metal and bubblegum pop and not much in between. She was practically a slave to the kick drum. I am generally ok with anything, yes including rap and country. If I had control of the dial though I would put on eurobeat trash and 60s/70's folk and folk rock, mostly because they were changes of pace from the other music. I did get in some fights with Todd about Beatles Vs Stones. We did both eventually settle that Sonic Youth was a far better band than they got credit for, Paul Simon was overrated and decided not to bring it up again.

News flash by the way, Montana Sucks, Missoula sucks. They had a major film festival there, it was a film festival with only documentaries and most of them sucked. There was a theater showing of Helvetica and it was pretty boss. Do you know why they call it "big sky country"? There's nothing fucking else in it. It has big empty-ass skies, big empty-ass mountains, it's dry, hard to breathe and I hate it. This might be because I've never been more than like 100ft above sea level but every minute was agony and I felt like I was going to puke my guts out and die of suffocation at the same time.

We met somefuck, we dropped shit off. It wasn't even with criminals. This city specifically had its own law for just the city that any marajuana offenses be the least important offenses and last priority for the cops to deal with since they couldn't decide as a city to overturn the statewide ban. It was in the law and budget that the cops had to handle basically every stray dog or littering offense before tackling marajuana crimes so we just rolled up to the film festival organizer, headed to the back of a theater and just unloaded bales. I spent my time puking into an empty x-tra-large popcorn. A helpful film student gave me something that sounded disgusting, warm boiled coca cola with shredded ginger root steeped in it to settle my stomach. I was shocked, it totally helped for like 4 hours. Then the cramping hit honestly 8/10 would try again.

Someone at the festival said there was something involving the ABB or something. I wasn't paying attention, and our road trip had to detour to Seattle. I don't even know. There was a fifth person in my seat in the car. Her name was Natalie or something. I didn't even meet her. I spent the whole rest of the trip in my warehouse not vomiting. I heard it would take a while since we had to go without the cloak or the super boost.

I woke up when I heard a beeping. My health monitor was saying I was in the red, my geiger counter was clicking like a castanet and my internal radiation level was maxed. I started to vomit molten yellow rocks. Just my luck we were near the appropriate park. Sammy and Ahira pulled me out of the warehouse. When we got to the car I screamed and begged for Todd to steer us along a direction I barely knew. The land was orange and then rainbow and turquoise. I stepped out of the car and the rainbow of stone kept coming out of my mouth as I fell flat on the boardwalk next to the spring full of boiling acid and strange metals. Then my forehead glowed and cracked open. Blood fell into the pool and the rainbow acidic waters flowed into my blood. My nausea began to subside as I slowly lost consciousness.

I woke back up mere seconds later with a horse from the nearby park licking my forehead. It had separated from one of the local horse tours and for some reason decided my sweat was its salt lick. I did notice though the white patch on its brown head was roughly in the shape of a key. I patted it and walked it back to its handler. I waved goodbye and got back in the van. Natalie apparently had some form of medic training and insisted I not be moved too much. My vitals were improving according to Ahira's scans and the Pip Boy's readout. My radioactivity had dropped to lower than a banana. Sammy went into the warehouse to grab a cold compress and quickly came out.

"I think you need to see this" Sammy looked shaken.

What could we do? We all went inside. As usual the right wall sloped downward to the fuel depot and its low plains, making our warehouse seem a high clifftop. Now to our left we were dwarfed by a mountain similar to the ones we had seen outside. Its sides were forested and a pool of chromatic acid was eating through the side of it, leaving tunnels and caves behind it. It was eroding a mine into the mountain and leaving deposits of crystals, gems, and unrecognisable metals. Well the metals were unrecognisable to me. Ahiri recognised a handful of them and responded with her usual enthusiastic positivity.

Above the quickly sinking pool there was an archway clearly cut into the side of the mountain. It looked like someone had made a great Mayan calendar of stone gears interwoven. I could see where some of the teeth had come off and where other coppery gears the size of mastiffs had turned green with neglect. It was a clockwork temple made of metal and stone and in desperate need of repair. A handful of grey skinned folk with pointed ears wearing shreds of rags stumbled out of the building. They fell to their feet in front of me. What could I do? I helped fetch food and water and bedrolls for the lot of them and realized we had no language in common.

We eventually figured out through gestures that their leader and some of their others were still in the temple and needed help to get out, food and water. We had more than enough from our earlier paranoid prepping although this would likely tap out our stocks. The healthiest of our refugees came with us to speak to the remaining ones inside.

When we entered the inner chambers of the temple, some twenty odd other skinny pointy people were there of various ages and genders. They varied in shade from slate grey to charcoal grey, all with blue undertones and they had outsized knuckles. Besides that they looked basically like starved humans save that they had a golden gear on their forehead and copper colored irises. Their leader picked himself up from his bed and stumbled towards me. His caste mark glowed as he touched mine. Suddenly I understood all of the murmuring around me and could read the scriptures on the walls. Their gear marks became toothed keys similar to my own. He spoke in a hoarse echoing voice.

"They are yours now, look after them and they will look after you." His skin began to flake away as his flesh beneath turned to coal and graphite, his nails and teeth to hematite and his eyes to diamonds.

"Well fuck. Wait, that wasn't an order. Um.. get in an ordered line and come out to the rest of my people. We'll get you cleaned and fed. Then someone can tell me what this place is"

Almost all of my nausea had ended, only for my stomach to tense with panic.

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New powers and AN:

So we finally see what not spending your points will do to you. They will spend themselves out of your body if they have to. Part of Micah's flesh has been replaced by divine essence, maybe only a part per million but every little bit helps. Several of the effects tried to claw their way into the world early. Todd slipped in first since he was cheap then the character creator re-worked him through the symbiote. Then the horse (we will be seeing more of her) and then the rest poured out. Now, there is a new friend on the road trip but only four seats in the car. Something is waiting in Seattle that is unplanned even by the standards of this trip. Also horse! https/youtu.be/ljPFZrRD3J8

New power:

Nobody escapes Cidhna Mine 200 CP, that's how the saying goes anyways. Cidhna mine is an extensive set of tunnels snaking into Nirn which the Silver-Blood Family uses as a prison and as a source of much wealth. Yours isn't that same dreaded mine, though it's similar in many ways. Placed in a reasonable location of your choosing is a copy of the mine, while the original was predominately used for silver mining, yours is much greater. Throughout the mines are extensive reserves of just about all of the ores found in Skyrim at the time, ranging from Ebony to Stalhrim and will produce an incredible amount. These reserves will replenish themselves once they begin to run dry and the mine will be manned by NPC guards and workers, though you could always appoint your own workers and guards if you wished. In future jumps it updates to include new material in the mine.

The guards etc are the faithful of https/elderscrolls./wiki/Sotha_Sil Sotha Sil. promised a life of endless craft in a world where the wonders of the clockwork city would be put to shame. Their god died and he was the closest that plane had to a god of crafting so the rest set out to find another one. Found the forge and agreed to follow its next champion. Some may regret the choice and quit but most right now are happy to be fed and saved and given purpose again.

Comes with :

Basic Necessities 0 CP: The basic equipment needed to survive in a High Fantasy setting such as Skyrim. This means enough food for about a week if you ration it, about one hundred septims, a few basic potions, and a thick fur-lined outfit, well suited for the cold.

The food and equip have already been handed to the refugees.

A Steed of Your Own 0 CP: The lands of Skyrim are large and untamed, endless trees and mountains sprawl across its landscape and walking through all of it would take ages. Which would be why you've received this handy companion, a horse of a breed of your choice (within reason) is now yours. It has incredible stamina even for one of its own, might be part mountain goat from the terrain you've seen it scale, and is capable of beating wolves to death with ease. If the horse is killed then it'll reappear within a day or so in the closest reasonable location. Your steed will also make its way to you whenever you whistle for it.

The horse may be a projection but more likely I will use "My superpower is a horse." https/prokopetz./post/181268188007/prokopetz-my-super-power-is-a-horse-you Please read this, the explanation will only help later on.

Birth Sign 0 CP: Everyone in Tamriel is born under one sign or another and now so are you, even if you're a drop in, well not actually but still. You're free to choose any single one of the standing stones in Skyrim and receive the bonuses it gives, whether that be the increased magical learning of the Mage or poisonous ability of the Serpent. Though the game blessings are merely a guide, feel free to fanwank something that fits the stone's theme and is within reason.

Birth Sign Rolled is the tower stone. Open any lock. This will be folded into the key's power.

Character Creator 0 CP: At the beginning of the Jump you'll be allowed to redesign your appearance should you wish it. This could range from building yourself into a slab of muscle to really sell the warrior theme, to being a slender and handsome rogue. So long as it obeys the natural constraints of your body.

Responsible for the 1 ppm divine essence. This will just be the body improving slightly, blemishes and scars vanishing, body getting rid of impurities. Losing some fat, getting fitter, eyes fixed.

The Man, the Myth, the Legend 0 CP: Shortly after you began your journey in Skyrim you happened across an odd man being chased by an angry mob, whether it was a small burst of charity or just you doing your normal thing you helped him out and escaped the mob. Regardless, the man introduces himself to you as Hodd Toward, an enterprising merchant just trying to make his way in the troublesome world. As a way of saying thanks, and because you seem the interesting sort he's offered to come with you on your journeys in this world and beyond. Skill wise he's an able trader/merchant that's easily able to turn ventures that'd normally would end in failure into solid investments, the only issue or oddity seems to be his obsession with this game of his called Skyridge or something like that. Though beyond his economic ability he hasn't got much in the way of other skills.

This has already occurred. This power will simply assure the MC that Todd will not betray him and be a slightly more successful merchant and Merchant. No other changes.

In the mine in addition to elder scrolls mats there will be ok so he'd have Adamantium, bloodstone, Duralium, Fascium, Kultrinium, Noctilith, Power Crystal, Psycurium, Symanthite, Trans-Sulphur, and Transuranium from

https/wh40k./wiki/Category:Materials

And Nuclear material from Fallout. Good thing the pip boy comes with a geiger counter and the antimatter plant comes with very very well shielded transport vehicles.

Chapter 9: Chapter 8

Chapter Text

Chapter 8 Interlude (mostly) Natalie

I walk into the office at the back of the coffee shop, put on an apron, smile at a few customers, get a pastry and then head down through the passage under the broken ice cream maker. I put the apron on a hook and scream into a couch cushion.

"James! You little rat bastard, that is a full week of my life I will never be getting back!"

"Not enjoying your vacation in Big Sky Country?" He smirked like a dreamworks character. I swear he's scummier than half the criminals I deal with.

"They're kids James, stupid kids with a toybox level backpack." I throw myself into an office chair. "They're not even interesting kids. We have a gearhead, a neckbeard in training, someone who was clearly cloistered as a child, and a college student who can't drive ten miles without vomiting on himself. They're transporting pot James. Even if they switched to uncut heroin it wouldn't have the economic impact these guys are predicted to have. Are you sure this isn't Accord fucking with us again, they're from his neck of the woods. Gearhead even has the accent"

"I don't pick the data, just the missions. WEDGDG says over the next year they will have a measurable interaction with .1% of California's GDP and we have to smooth those ripples. Report." He looked me up and down and I swear if he did anything more than that I'd report him to HR but he never did he just let his gaze linger a little too long.

"I don't report to you James I report to the section head, let me through" I stepped past his desk and towards the slate grey door.

"Nuh uh uh ! The boss lady is in meetings all day. You can give your verbal report to me now or you can fill out a formal one before you can go home. I can get the break room cot ready for you since it looks like you're dead on your feet" He says with false concern.

"Fine but I am recording this too and sending it to the boss so you don't rat fuck me out of my job." There are times I wish I had gotten something simple like a blaster power instead of master/stranger mix. Is it so wrong to just want to shoot eyebeams to explode the heads of officious little REMF's like this? "My insertion into the film festival went smoothly. The delivery occurred 2 days prior to the most likely predicted time. At first I had thought they were not the anomaly and simply a different tinker drug smuggling op. I checked in with Watchdog to make sure I had the right smugglers and they told me to proceed with an 85% probability. I left one of the other agents in place in case we were looking at a compound issue and another group would be coming at the expected time."

"I see, and besides thinker confirmation how did you confirm they were the delivery people in question?"

"I personally saw them move a half ton of pot out of a standard sized minivan. I took pictures. I'm sending them now." I sent the photos to the shared network and not to his email. I had learned my lessons with evidence before.

He faked a frown but I could see him delight in something he could potentially use to chastise me later "The faces in these pictures aren't very clear."

"I got what I could get at the time. They weren't accepting me using a camera phone when we were in the car and they were moving quickly so I got what I could."

"Is there a reason you couldn't have taken pictures at a rest stop on the road?" he raised an eyebrow, for the first time actually interested in the report rather than watching me squirm.

"I'm getting to that, there weren't any." I grumbled.

"Pardon?" He seemed genuinely shocked.

"They didn't make any rest stops, not for fuel, not for bathroom, not for food, nothing. For twelve freaking hours. They gave me a privacy blanket and a commode for when I had to go. Thank god the tinkertech air freshener they had going was effective. They went into their knockoff tardis which had a bathroom in it but it was apparently employees only. They made the briefest of stops at Rainbow Spring to have one of them get out to vomit but I couldn't see shit since everything was covered in steam. They parked next to a geyser" I shuddered. It wasn't the worst time I'd had to do my business in public but it wasn't any fun. At least the kids were polite about it and only left ladies in the car itself while I did it. ((A/N she is misgendering Sammy but she doesn't know that and Sammy never told her so.. ))

"And refueling, some kind of super efficient engine?" He salivated a little at the idea of capturing some new, agency usable, tinkertech.

"Nope. Pure mundane car, if high performance. The only tech was their pistols and the doorway to nowhere. Jury is still out if it is a parahuman power or some lost toybox tech. No one in the group is a tinker, just tinker adjacent. No fugues, no dreams or inspired technology they couldn't explain. Anything they had worked on they could list the science behind. They're a lot like that crew from MIT we caught working with Blasto a few years back but not as skilled and much more low key."

His nose wrinkled like he had smelled something foul. "Very well, send the numbers on what was moved and to where."

"I have the shipment numbers down to the gram but I don't know where it's headed."

"What, were they all silent the whole trip too? That speaks of some serious training."

"No they talked their fool heads off about everything they knew about their destination which was fuck all. They were using one of those drunkard's walk perturbations on their path to throw off well, us and thinker organizations like us but they were doing it by rote. A handful of dice on the dashboard and just plain not knowing where their next destination is until it is sent to them halfway there. I had to convince them to take me to Seattle. That's why it took about half again as long as it should've"

"How did you manage that?" He had begun spinning a pen in his hand with agitation.

"Their main driver was clearly a previously trafficked person. I told them about an AB shipment I was trying to stop here and they agreed to help."

"You prevailed upon the better nature of the international drug dealers?"

"Well for one thing I think they're strictly inside the US. For another I think they had some kind of beef with their local branch of the AB on the east coast. Third, yes, yes I did. I think I found out why they wouldn't let me into the storage area."

"Not because you were a relative stranger wanting to look into their criminal narcotics activities?"

"You know how my powers work James, plus they met me through their drug connections. During the last few hours of the trip they mentioned stocking up on blankets, food, medication and clothes for refugees. I think they're coyotes and not the slaving kind." I slumped into a seat by the desk. "They're moving people. In the car I saw one of them looking up how to apply for green cards and refugee status. I told them I was studying law and I'd help them get set up."

"Well shit." He actually stopped looking smug for five seconds.

These are some of the cases that hit hardest. People bringing in new people, some of which may be parahumans or even just normal folks trying to escape places like warzones or s class threats or simply disasters. Like dozens of times in America's history immigrants brought new ideas, new techniques and skills that can upend or shape the economy. This was exponentially more likely if they were parahuman and folks going through the sorts of things trafficked people go through were likely triggers. You see it a lot in Washington. People risking everything for a chance.

"I'll get you the paperwork. If they end up using the documents we give them instead of getting their own we can track whoever they end up being so the thinkers will be happy with the data and we can keep any sudden economic booms and busts monitored and under control. They are almost certainly the anomaly then. A legitimate unenslaved labor force with good internal cohesion and local parahuman support can shift the tides of a city pretty far. We need to know where they end up. But I won't burn a shipment of people like they're bales of hash." He puts down his pen and for the first time working with him he seems almost human. "Use the office printer, I'll send you the files. Use the paper from the green box with the mag strips. I take it our little bleeding heart hippies took you up on the offer to fuck over the Asian Boyz?"

"Kind of. They said they didn't do fighting but they could handle helping a pair of cargo containers worth of people escaping the scene without harm and bring them to a place of our choosing."

"Well it's going to be a long night. Now I have to call our friends at PRM and the State Department. At least the local cops and coast guard will get a win. " He grumbled into his office phone while he looked up the numbers.

"Thanks Jim."

"Fuck of, go home and get a nap, we're understaffed as is we'll need you for possible combat duty tonight."

For the first time in my life I was happy to follow James's orders. I went home, showered, slept then suited up. Our thinker backup on comms was Nutcracker, A local who knows the area. I think he's sweet on one of the local Protectorate but I don't deal with them much. The protectorate themselves are busy keeping the Speedrunners occupied. We do not want a two gang shootout on the docks and dealing with time warpers gives me a headache.

The AB cape support is thin on the ground but they're both strangers like me. Kasumi is a mist generator, anyone who breathes in her fog gets dizzy and lost. She can cloak an entire oil tanker if she has the time to charge up. Satoshi douses any light or heat sources in an area making them give off flecks of black ash. Lightbulbs get their interiors coated with the stuff. LEDs short out, torches smother. Luckily you can still hear but the stuff gets on your skin and chills you to the bone. It's usually not fatal, about the same as being exposed to -20 degree weather and it washes off with cool water or alcohol but it makes long fights an impossibility and tends to freeze pursuing boats dead in the water.

We are at our core a thinker organization though so we have decided to let them unload their crates at the dock and let the capes sail off to have the coast guard deal with them while we sweep down on the mere mortal mooks dockside. Once the boats are out a bit from shore I think the coast guard plans on ordering them to surrender from outside fog range but inside gun range. It's almost impossible to track their boat at night on the open ocean without visuals or a transponder but slapping a tracker on them while they are docked is pretty easy. A gas mask and a good fastball pitch gets the glob of soft putty with the transceiver stuck to the outside of the boat without placing one of our own in danger or making any noise louder than the lap of waves on the hull or the squeaking of cranes unloading containers.

Getting in among the slavers was easy. My powers of belonging weren't even getting much of a workout. A pan asian gang included many faces and colors without strong internal family ties to each other the way some of the older gangs did. Each little group assumed I had been invited by one of the others and didn't really owe each other any loyalty. I saw an older woman there and followed her closely. When we were briefly out of sight of the others I tased her and covered her in a bit of con foam and a tarp. I quickly slipped into her position as their Judas Goat, a friendly, usually older, female face to encourage the prisoners to move along quietly into trucks, without trying to raise an alarm or escape.

I was protected by two toughs and led to the shipping containers full of people. For operational security the drivers didn't know who they were driving or who was paying them. This is pretty effective to keep people from giving evidence once arrested. It is, unfortunately for them, very helpful for infiltrators.

POV Shift Micah

I admit I peed a little. I was nervous. It was my first time going into combat on purpose. The job was pretty simple. Sammy asks the trucker for a cigarette, I tase the trucker. Todd was already somewhere else arranging someplace to put the slaves and Ahira would stick out like a sore thumb, Plus she was waiting in the pocket space putting the finishing touches on the interior drywall we put up to hide the mountain and the fuel depot. Now it looked like an ordinary, if recently painted, warehouse again. Our new grey passengers had never seen drywall before but they were swift and skilled carpenters and it's impressive what 30 people, a hardware store, an experienced manager, and 30 grand can get done in an afternoon.

The time came. The trucker leaned out to hand over a cigarette and a lighter. I jumped from cover to open the door and tase him. It was locked and I jammed my thumb on the handle.

The trucker pulled his arm back and drew a hand cannon from behind his seat, leaned on the windowsill and took aim at me. He started to say something when I felt my forehead start to ache again as the truck door suddenly unlocked and slammed open, taking the trucker with it and dropping him onto the blacktop. I tased him while he was down and Sammy gave me a thumbs up. I tried to shake my hand out to numb some of the pain. Normally when my powers open a door it opens into the warehouse and I can never open a door with someone or something sturdy currently going through it. Sherrel was going to have me in power testing again for a week when we got home.

Sammy got in the cab. They were the only one with a CDL and I tried to open the back of the trailer. It too was locked so I reached for that feeling of pushing past something jammed and the lock unbolted itself from the inside and the padlocks dropped off the outside. The doors started to slam open but I caught them before they could make a loud bang. I sprayed the confoam Todd had procured on the trucker and covered him in a dark blanket from the warehouse. We drove on.

POV shift Natalie.

I led the trafficked people out of the cargo container and up the ramp into the back of a truck. I saw Sammy give the thumbs up from the cab. We both got in after them. This was my first time seeing beyond the inner vault door of the tinker space. A key flowed out of a cut on Stash's (Video Index 2) hand and the interior double doors opened wide revealing the steel inner airlock already wide open. They had never told me Stash's name on the trip. I only knew him by his PRT designation and this was the first time I had seen his face clearly. This time I had brought a more discreet camera and filmed him and Melta (real name Ahira, last name unknown Video Index 3) in greater detail. We rushed the people through the portal and then signalled Smoke (Real name Sam Ashkente Video Index 1).

The thing about unmarked trucks is they are unmarked. Sam and I swapped as drivers and we loaded up another truckload then looped around and loaded another and another until all of the people were out of the containers. From the trucker side of things their driver (Pham Duong, formerly Ha Huang of Ha Long City Video Index 4 in custody) Was supposed to radio in when he needed the next truck to come through. This never happened. I am sure some of the transporters were calling their contacts wondering why the pickup was late but their contacts would soon be having other problems.

We were loading the last group when the sound of nearby sirens and gunfire filled the air. The local cops with the assistance of some Watchdog T-men (Watchdog agents seconded to the organization from the US Treasury see file 206-790). As part of the stranger side of Watchdog in more ways than one it was our cue to get out fast.

Several hours later we were still helping process refugees when the last member of their group (Todd, last name [REDACTED] Ĕ͈̖͗̂̌̒͢͜ͅr̷̩͔͚ͪ͂̍̈́͡r̵̴̬͕̯̰̦̖̬̺͒̄̕õ̧̗̻͔̗̻̋̀ͬ̇͑̎ͅr̭͖̟̪̠͖̂̉̿̄ͯ̄̈́͡.̵̡̦̯̙̖̌̐ ̸̮̫̖̤͍̙̖̃͒ͪ̐̀̚̚͡P͉̰̞̜̻̳̘̞͛̎͛ͬ̆͆ͫͣ͢ͅo͛ͪͣ͏̴̬̮̮̤̰̯̘̣í͉͌̃̿̓̾͗͝n̶̻̗͈̠̼̠͈ͬ͐̑̇̒ͪ̽̎ͮt̠̙̮̰̪̗̂̌͑ͨ̄ͯ͂ͨę̢̯̃ͧ̋̉̉͛̈͋͟r̪̪͙͍̞͆̂̈̾͞ ̷̦̞̙͖̬͖ͫ̄ͦC̛̻ͨ͗ͯ̎ͨö̹͉̬̳̩̩̗̟̔̔ͭ͐̅̏r̫͓̜̱̎ͨ͒͐̓̓ͧr̴̪͍̰̙͈̩̫̺̩̈́͒̃ͫ͢ȗ̫̱͎͍̗̰̬ͧ̿̏̚͠p͉̜̣͓̘͈ͥͮt̼̗̻͎͖̆͝e̸͆ͯͫ͗̚͏̫̤͔̼͕͓̖d̟̤͕̪̙̤̙̗͆̀̋̋̄̃ͬ͊͠). He explained that the refugees were from a small area in the former Soviet Union near Moldova where a tinker had unleashed something nasty in a silver mine leading to their bluish complexion. Doctor's checked them out and found evidence consistent with saturation with colloidal silver.

Thankfully the antibiotic properties of whatever they were crammed full of meant they were in perfect health besides a bit of malnutrition and we had them processed as well. Given the truly ridiculous amount of organ trafficking in Moldova (see reference https//humansecurity/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/Best-Practice-Report.pdf ) they were willing to risk fleeing with an unknown parahuman.

After seeing the accommodations for the other refugees they decided to continue with the small parahuman group (Smoke and Mirrors) to the destination they had already paid the transporters for. They were not forthcoming about their destination but now that they were in the system were not obliged to be.

Watchdog Economic Disruption Government Dispatch Group internal appendix. The photos and videos provided by Agent Sylves were analyzed by standard facial recognition software and FBI analysis. Full backgrounds and paper trails including birth records, shopping histories and relevant childhood pictures were found. Upon submitting this data to thinker analysis a full workup began on Micah Czilovich only to have all thinker analysis produce zero information starting at 13:48 EST no more readings were possible on Mr Czilovich.

Due to the usual compartmentalization protocols management was informed of other thinker related anomalies. When researched by automated or non-parahuman methods including questioning witnesses all evidence of Ahira Mazda, Samiel Ashkente appear normal.

Thinker analysis of Ms Mazda by the postcog named Zodiac reveals that she was born on May 28, 2008 or June 18, 40,315 alternately. In all cases she is listed as having been born on a military ship in international waters. Records of the USS Reagan confirm this fact. Other inquiries into her past through use of parahuman powers are nonsensical.

Thinker analysis of Samiel Ahskente has led to Similarly nonsensical results listing their point of origin as the valley of Hinnom Israel and producing irrational numbers for birthdate and Rhyming couplets when other questions are asked.

It is presumed that these thinker effects are an echo of whatever parahuman power is being emitted by the person, projection, or autonomous tinker construct known as Todd. Records and eyewitnesses record his birth on April 1,1989 at the Maddalena Ranch in the Sierra Mountains. His estrangement and later running away from his family is well documented in personal and online accounts through social media. Any thinker interaction with these records has led to nightmares, pleading from the mucous membranes and episodes of glossolalia. His records have been flagged by our internal indexing system to keep them from being accidentally seen by in house parahumans and have been rated as a class 2 infohazzard (Physical trauma) with no persistent effects beyond 18 hours. What few metacognitives managed to glean information reveal only the image of a nonexistent tower looming over the skyline of Bethesda MD followed by screaming.

Smoke and Mirrors is rated as a class E parahuman threat. They are significantly less dangerous than reasonably fit civilian trained security guards of equal number in a direct conflict and they have no reliable methods of projecting force. They are a class C flight risk and security hazard as their ability to evade capture and infiltrate/exfiltrate secure areas is significant and comparable to a fully trained intelligence infiltration team with moderate parahuman equipment. Advice is to note their presence, alert the local PRT or WEDGDG office and engage at your own discretion no particular caution needed.

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Chapter 10: Chapter 9

Chapter Text

Chapter 9

The very next thing I did was speak to the leader of my new people.

"What should I call you?" I asked

"Erebon your grace." He straightened his posture. His sate grey cheeks flushed with blue tint.

"Leave off the title, you can call me Micah"

"I wouldn't dream of it, sacred one."

"Ahira, a little help.?"

"His title is Chosen, that's what I call him." She beams at her new ally.

My head fell forward into my hands "I thought I had finally gotten you to call me Micah."

"Only in the bedroom, my Chosen." she winked. She actually winked. Lord protect me.

"D-does that mean? I - I am flattered your Gra-Chosen One I will bathe myself imme"

"No! No, stop, well maybe later if we get to know each other and maybe have a few dates and it doesn't reek of abuse of power." I thought about my relationship with Ahira for a moment. I think when it was just the two of us and she was the only one respected in our organization and the only one allowed to be armed we pretty much had parity of power. "What do you and your people want to do?"

"Serve you, oh Chosen." He brought himself back to some semblance of composure.

"Argl pf. Ok let's say for the sake of argument I accept that you are now my servants. If you are serving me what would you like to do?"

"Whatever you desire, Chosen One!" He blushed a little again and my head hit my desk.

I am aware that the personal is political so it is with great self loathing that I make my next remark. I hate politics. I don't like compromise. I don't like hearing people out. I don't like trying to finish arguments with no definitive resolution. My recent life has shown me I am better with bookkeeping and minutiae than I first thought and Ahira was slowly getting me over my fear of organized religion. As a reformed jew I insist my religion is not organized in the least. In many ways my utter detestation of the whole process of leadership made tyrannical despot practically perfect for my temperament. That having been said, I am now the head of a sizeable cult and the reality is very different.

The Silver Mines of Potosí are about a twelfth of the size and had maybe a hundredth of the mineral wealth of my new mine. It had 160,000 workers not including administration, guards, and sundry attendant persons. The mine I had inherited, Moabathil Uupse, had nothing like that amount but was still meant to be a fully operational mine and a refuge for the last followers of a dead god.

At 700 new US immigrants I had considerably less to deal with. Adding in their 1200 or so children I had 1900 mouths to feed and employ. Erebon was a hell of an administrator once you got past the stammering. He rapidly found out that when the fuel depot said it could make any fuel, the fuels for various bioships and beasts of burden were included in that so the same lozenge shaped tubes that were pumping out antimatter could also pump out alfalfa and some sort of thin protein broth. We had more than enough places to keep them and the climate wasn't bad.

One of his assistants, Mindeli discovered we could get an arbitrarily large amount of water by ordering fuel cells and discharging the electricity into the ground. The byproduct water was clean, pure and healthy and the mine produced enough salt for electrolytes. The refugees had pretty much made one of the salt deposits into their pantry before their place connected here.

Now I had a quandary. Either I am a cape on par with Labyrinth and can create populated alternate worlds subconsciously or gods exist, the multiverse theory that professor Haywire discovered is laughably incomplete, and I am some kind of machine messiah. Is it a bad sign if I'd rather be a delusional parahuman? Unfortunately either way I am responsible for these people. Either I created them with my power in which case they are my children in a real and meaningful way or they are people in desperate need that are turning to me as their leader in time of crisis.

Thanks Pip Boy for rubber ducking for me. Just talking this out has given me an answer. If I am their creator I made them as functional adults (at least the adult ones) and if they want to move out they can, if they are refugees I am woefully unqualified to be their messiah no matter what their dead god said and what kind of deals their dead god (Sotha Sil apparently) made with the primal forces of creation. Luckily these guys really like two things, gadgets and mountains and we're driving along the Rockies in America.

After a few phone calls to Natalie and buying a few cheap laptops, we had the various Dunmer looking into cheap land, mining options or just jobs as cooks or other work from Idaho to New Mexico. Ulian and Tabitha, former diviners, took to the internet like ducks to water. We made sure they were all set up with what government assistance we could and played Johnny Dunmerseed. That sounded a lot less gross in my head. When we passed through Utah we found there was already a company that sold previously owned survivalist compounds to Mormon "Extended Families" and about 1200 adults and 600 children decided to move in there en masse . They weren't the weirdest thing in the Utah mountains by far. Ulian stayed on to manage their communications infrastructure, Tabitha decided to come with us. I couldn't get rid of Erebon with a crowbar. Then again he had spent centuries as a high priest of me specifically so he might take a while to discourage. At least he's cute.

After several long phonecalls with Luis followed by longer phone calls with less shouting with Adam. Every Dunmer in all the cities and towns agreed that they'd hide people or product that the Merchants wanted hid and in exchange we would front them some start-up costs. A few months rent here some groceries there, it added up to a hell of a lot of money but apparently we had moved 20 million dollars worth of pot this week so what the fuck do I know. Related note I will not be being paid my cut of that 20 mil, instead what I have is a compound in Utah with my name on the deed. I feel more like a cult leader already.

From Enar, Erebon's record keeper, I learned a lot about my adopted peoples' culture. For one thing they believed they were twice dead. They were from a place called Morrowind on a continent called Tamriel. They were all craftspersons or parts of families of miners, crafters, builders, tinkerers and a few artificers. They worshiped one third of a sacred trinity called imaginatively the sacred trinity (or as near a translation as I had anyway) Their god was Sotha Sil and as a reward for their faith and excellence they lived in his afterlife, some of them for centuries. Then their god was slain due to diving politics but he had protected them in a clockwork city, on a sacred mountain, in his realm, and forged a pact with the remaining gods to protect his people. Some unknown amount of time later a big dragon came out of a time hole and blew up the world so it never had been made. Yes they used the phrase time hole. I think this telepathic translation thing is kind of busted.

Their god in his clockwork city was apparently prepared for this. As his greatest wonder, the clockwork city began to be unwoven, rituals and bindings built into its foundation sacrificed it and the mountain it lay upon to an incomprehensible eldritch being called the Celestial Forge. There they were told to wait to serve a savior that would rescue them from the depths of the place between places. A lot of weird time passed in a space outside of reality. Many of their number fled, died or went mad. The cleverest and the quickest of their artificers built their own ships from the wreckage to try and sail the blind eternities. Evidence suggests that at least most of those artifact crafts imploded or worse and took their crews with them.

The ones remaining were either truly faithful or terrified enough to stay. The Mountain that housed the mine has forests where they could hunt strange creatures and bizarre fruits to eat. No one knows how long they stayed there until they received a message from someone claiming to be the agent of the Celestial Forge. It was a wheel of gold and fire covered in eyes and gears and it told them to find and wear the vestments of their god and prepare to meet their new master.

The flying rolling donut did not give a fuck that their raiment was in horrible repair after countless years. They stowed their bizarre furs and cloth spun from strange soft stone. They put on the rags and tatters anyway. Then I showed up. I offered them a world to be in. Many of them were very grateful. Most of them were tired of being anywhere near this mine and just wanted to be on a world with a sun and ecosystem that made sense. Many of them wanted to stay with me at least for a while to pay back the debt they felt. I turned a lot of them away or had them hand their debt over to the Merchants in exchange for the merchants getting them money to start a life, In the event that they still insisted that they owed me I told them I would be better served if they would pay me back later once they had built up something for themselves.

By time we reached New Mexico we were down to 36 Dunmer, all of them adults or late adolescents. I convinced anyone with kids that still for some reason wanted to follow my teachings that I would be giving online seminars and I did not want kids following me where I travelled. They eventually listened to a mix of concern for their child's safety, and their prophet figure flat out telling them to stay home and care for their damned kids. I guess humans don't have a monopoly on shitty parenting.

I also had to promise to at least head to Silverseam (our budding town) once every few years so that their children and children's children and so on could mine stone from their ancestral lands. Ahira was incredibly helpful in buying me about 100 years off of this obligation by melting off many tonnes of rock for them to mine and leaving them there. If you care about details we had the whole force of 800 Dunmer and a horse they found make a huge fuck off door and we used one one of the capitol ship cranes to move a chunk the size of an iceberg.

On Todd's advice we also used the great big door to move a truly stupid amount of alcohol into dry counties in Utah. but after a few weeks of seeing sights, getting folks settled, barn raising and smuggling we hit the border of New Mexico and shortly after we hit Gallup. This was something of a shock as on any maps we had Gallup was several hours east of us. That was not the biggest surprise Gallup had. For one thing, as soon as we turned down the main drag Sammy got out of the car, fell to the sidewalk and started crying like a baby. Several people went to pick them up and hug them and were crying too. As has happened in every city so far someone recognized Todd and he started unloading things from the warehouse that he had picked up in Seattle. I had wondered what he was picking up 36 pallets of while we were helping the Dunmer do paperwork but I was a bit busy. Then my face hit the pavement too but that was because my brain exploded.

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New Power :

My Experiments (Lilo and Stitch) 500 cp

The true mark of a Mad Scientist, is the minions under his control. And these children you have created are truly the finest around. You have all the knowledge to build the tools and enact the science behind creating your own mischievous creatures. The powers they have can range from practically useless, to an unstoppable monstrosity. Their personality is completely up to you. Whilst you have these capabilities, there's a reason they call them experiments. It will take many attempts to work out how to create the exact specimen you want. Even the greatest of scientists may fail 625 times before bringing about their great destroyer. But with enough time and effort, you will eventually gather enough skill in the subject to get the exact creature you want every time.

DNA Lock-On (Free): You're tired of pesky law enforcement personal sneaking into your lab. To combat this you have created DNA lock on technology, allowing your machines to target specific creatures, and only them. Of course, this will require collecting their DNA first. You have put this to good use with inventions like your door that only opens for you, and the auto-turret that will refuse to fire if you're standing in the way.

A/N Huh a lock power to go with the key power, might synergize well.

Bonus: If you check out the Sufficient Velocities copy of this story you can see my terrible art but at least get a sense of scale. The RAW of the warehouse says your hallway is infinite and connects any openings you wish so long as you arent a cheaty cheaterface and try to store things in the hallway. So the pale green area is an 80 meter wide strip of climate controlled indoor area with doors along it that serves as an interface along the borders between the two massive pieces of land. One can just climb over it though.

to make the breakdown clear.

1900 is Dunmer came to earth

1800 of them ended up in silverside

40 Stayed on the Van

60 randos are scattered throughout the west having adventures, culture shock and a great deal of thinker/cauldron attention.

Chapter 11: Chapter 10

Chapter Text

Chapter 10

POV Sammy

I'm home. I am here and touching my family and I'm home. I don't know how long it has been and I can't know. I, well everyone in the city scraped together to have me mastered to forget this place, how to get here, any specifics of the people, only their actions. I thought I had just lost the memories to apathy or drugs but I am here and home and with Yanna and Mom and Lucas and Mima and everyone and none of them have faded. Before I had my memories removed that was my biggest fear, even if I couldn't go home one of them would have faded away while I was gone and I wouldn't even know. I've grown stronger since I've been out in the world, I can even assert myself if I have some time to prepare.

I have to go see all of them, to hear and hug all of them, if only to give them all a chance to rest. It's been a hell of a thing working with a stranger. I can tell now Nat was one. I fucking hate them. Worse than tinkers, worse than masters. It is capital I Ironic that I am driving an invisible car for a living. I guess some of my skill to know where people are looking and where they are paying attention worked well in the criminal life. I'm going home for a bit, the rest of the team will be alright without me.

POV Micah

"Ow, ow ow, owOwow ouch." I awoke to being shaken firmly and insistently by small calloused unfamiliar hands.

"Sir, Your Worship, Chosen One, Boss, I am sorry to disturb your healing rest and I know your vitals are still low but we have a thing and its an important thing and Ahiradoesn'tknowhatitis andToddisgone andnooneknowswhattodo andwe'renewtothisworld andits Important!"

"Ok , ok Tabby I am up I am up less shouting more breathing." I looked at her and then through her. I could see every place in her history where someone had shaped their genetic line. I could see the fingerprints of their god, the signs of famine or catastrophic events, any little magical changes she had done to her body shone out. They weren't made ugly any more than seeing brush strokes on a painting is ugly it was simply more information than I knew what to do with. I closed my eyes again. "I am awake I just have to rest my eyes, now breathe with me and then and explain it to me again, slowly"

Tabitha took a deep breath, held it, exhaled, held it and repeated a few times. "The stones are acting weird and I don't know what to do."

I decided to do some box breathing myself to concentrate through the pain. "Ok did you try the experimental potions that Rayna is trying to make with earth ingredients or drink anything in Todd's mini fridge?"

"No, I didn't, they're definitely acting weird and I had other people check with me." She seemed a little put out but Deras had been seeing snakes in the road for the past 40 miles so I figured it was a fair question.

"Ok how weird?"

"Very weird?"

I sighed again, this telepathic translation thing was only but so good "I mean weird in what way"

"They don't have any ontological inertia"

" I have no idea what that is."

"That's why I need you to get up, come to the warehouse, and open your eyes and look at this"

"You know when I tried teaching you guys to just see me as an equal and not to obey me in all things I think I might have done too well with you. Ouch, no no I super duper don't mean that I was taking the piss please don't backslide I said it in a moment of pain!" I open my eyes and she's smirking at me.

"You know they have invented sarcasm on our planet. I can tell when you're taking the piss."

"Former planet." I grumble.

"No, our current one, we live on Planet Chosen in the Warehouse system, it has all the requirements, gravitational field, local creator god, ground, sky, people."

"I thought you would have legacies in your sarcasm then from your previous planet"

"Oh no your worship, we had to re-invent it locally just for you."

I actually smile, then the smile makes my head hurt again but I follow Tabitha into the warehouse.

"So what am I looking at?" I sit at Tabitha's ever expanding desktop-cum-comms suite.

"Nothing." she says.

"You brought me all this way for nothing? No I mean really nothing, look!"

I am looking at a feed of the area around the van. The people stay where they are and in strange stretches around them but roads, lampposts, entire buildings flicker in and out of existence like someone was erasing them in pieces in photoshop and then flickering back in again. I stick my head out of the door and look at the same area. It's perfectly solid, pull my head in, flicker, out fine, in flicker. I set up my own camera and send video to myself. It all seems fine, but then when I look at her screen it's flickering.

"I think there's just something wrong with your graphics card." I tell her "I am going to go to sleep, this time on something softer than asphalt"

"No boss, look. Take your phone, set the video camera to record, bring it back in and then watch the video." She points to the portal in a way that brooks no argument. I do what she says and the flicker is on my phone video too.

"K so some kind of communicable graphics glitch?" I massage my temples.

"No, I first found out about this when I took a rock sample. I've been picking up rocks from every place we've been, so have some of the others. It's a fun hobby and they can be used to look back at your memories later when you make them into a mosaic. Plus teaches kids good sample collecting habits." She perks up a bit.

"Ok so what happened."

"Watch" She plays a video.

I see her leave the van, go to a nearby sidewalk and break off a small piece. She puts it in her pocket and goes to collect a smooth stone from the gutter when she notices the sidewalk is whole again. She checks her pocket and it isn't there.

She spends a few minutes looking for it assuming it had fallen out but then cautiously approaches the sidewalk again. She chips a piece out and carefully puts it in a locking sample case. When she goes to put in another sample, she opens the case and the sidewalk piece isn't there. She looks back and the sidewalk is once again whole.

She tries several experiments, burning the sidewalk, melting it, taking a bowling ball sized chunk. And tries several methods of keeping her samples, video surveillance, safes, laser grid, weighted plate and heavy box. In all cases when the shard of concrete was no longer observed it disappeared. If she was still watching the hole in the sidewalk the hole would stay but if her attention flickered the sidewalk would be smooth as glass. Even weirder, when she stopped looking at the hole it was filled in even when she was still holding the sidewalk piece. Eventually by putting her leg stretched out over them to keep contact she managed to cut out the same piece of concrete from the same sidewalk a dozen times.

"Ok, that's weird." I admit

"You know what's really fucky? No one here goes to the bathroom alone, they don't even have stall doors, some houses just have toilets in the middle of the room. She looked at me wide eyed.

"Ok well that last one is called a pittsburgh toilet, it's used in industrial areas in easily cleaned and drained basements so people can use the toilet without tracking dirty or toxic work gear to the rest of the house." Earth, even just America has many varied and disgusting traditions.

"In the living room?"

"I stand corrected."

"And sit to pee apparently"

"Have you been filming people in the potty?"

"Ok first thing I had surveillance in every room for security reasons I just don't usually watch it and second I only went over the footage now to see some normal (and I use the term loosely) earth people use the bathroom to see if this was as strange as I thought it was!"

I thought about objecting or reprimanding her but working with the Merchants the number of times I heard about people being shanked in the bathroom she had a point.

"Fair. anything else?"

"I think the people have the same issue. Sometimes just for a second one of them might not be being looked at or heard by someone else and they flicker away. It seems like there's just a hiccough in their cognition when that happens or sometimes they come out scared or stunned for a moment."

"Well that would be enough to make me shit in public."

"There's more. Looking at the records, that happens to Sammy too. You know how sometimes we can't find him before his driving shift but he is always on time just like you expect him? Well it seems they're a little more solid. You can't just wish them into someplace but I tried with some of the others and wherever enough people legitimately expect Sammy to be, if no one else is watching, they're there!"

"Explains why he went into a cape fight with smoke bombs and never got hit. Lucky fucker."

"Yeah I don't think they're that lucky. Imagine if you had a day off and your workplace got trashed so no one was coming in and no one expected you to work. You'd just kind of die if you didn't have a full social calendar or something. Or if people thought you had moved or died."

"Ok yeah that is pretty fucked up. Anything else?"

"Not that I've noticed. So what do we do about it?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Not our circus, not our monkeys. If you want you can pick up some street litter or interesting rocks that aren't parts of other rocks to see if the properties hold when we take them out of here. There is always some delay in a live feed even nanoseconds so you can make the frame rate or compression rate lower and lower until you find out what counts as "Not observing" Ooh wait, something that would be pretty cool is you could take some of the critters from the mountain and some of the hypertech cameras and the Mr Handy we have in the back and see which if any of them count as "Observers""

"Ok that actually sounds kind of fun, plus I get to play with fuzzy animals and everyone has to help me cause you suggested it." She bounces from her seat and practically skips down the hall. I may have made a tactical error.

I made my way to my little private apartment to take some aspirin and have a nap when on the way I passed Ahira, at least I tried to. This new vision that let me see all the artistry, all the work that goes into altered or artificial life forms, to me she glowed like the moon. I could see every moment of millennia of effort put into every piece of her. I knew what the prosthetics looked like out of the box and the hours of effort, skill, and frankly genius it took to turn them into the work of art before me now. She was perfection in all things. I fell to my knees and wept. She reached over to grab me. I was at least getting the hang of prophecy. The next place I passed out was softer than asphalt.

Words 26913

New Power

5.16.4-Scanner(Subnautica)(Toolkits Technology)(50CP):The scanner uses the PDA artificial intelligence to analyze an object, often finding weaknesses or uses not immediately apparent to the user. If one of your fabricators is capable of constructing the scanned object, a blueprint is created. Scanning time varies with size and complexity.

In this case since it is a module it will be added to his existing Pip Boy and the cellphone copy of the Pip Boy he made. He will also get a scanner peripheral added to his laser pistol as something like an underslung flashlight. Both the gun and the pip boy will look a little shinier, a little newer and with cleaner lines and some optional blue highlights. These can be removed but they do make the units all more durable and functional underwater up to ridiculous pressure.

Chapter 12: Chapter 11

Chapter Text

Chapter 11

I wake up bleeding from the arm. My pip boy looks more modern than before, less steampunk by way of the 50's and more streamlined. It looks more like what Apple thought the future would look like circa 2000 mixed with hardened rubberized parts kind of like the ones you find on small submarines or aquatic safety gear. The bleeding part is because I was sitting in an office chair with my left arm being swabbed by Ahira. She looked at me with a cross between a student looking at a clever child and a dog looking at a steak.

"Oh Chosen! I am so proud of you! You have taken the first steps on the path to true flesh and you did it without my asking or even my help! For a first try without any assistance or mechadendrites it went close to perfectly! I must ask, what is the purpose of the small collars you put along your muscle structure? Surely replacing the muscles themselves or the nerves with a superior material would be more efficient. Not that I wish to question your judgement my Lord." She nods but is clearly salivating.

"They contain microcapsules of genetic material intended to replace the flesh over time with superior electrodense matter but gradually to both let my system get used to the new weight and motion and to avoid tissue tearing or rejection. Wait, where the hell did that come from. I mean I understood it and I understood it. Was this a tinker fuge? I don't remember the tinkering but I do understand how every piece works. I think I could instruct a layman in how to at least build this if not understand it. I don't quite have the language for it but I could make new terms and define them in terms of known things. Also what the fuck? There is another overlay on my sight, routed through the Pip Boy for controls. I could sense the weak points in the structures, and people around me. Green pulsing circles for stun points or to disable reparably, Yellow for permanent but nonfatal damage, and Red to destroy. You have almost no red but looking at myself I was covered in it. Arteries close to the surface, nerve clusters, the lot. Also I have no internal monologue apparently." I place my hand over my mouth and at least I know the safeties on my new reflexes are working because my hand moves faster than I have ever seen but I don't smash my lips into my teeth or break anything.

"That's the anesthetics wearing off after self implanting of systems to help your cognitive load. You didn't put in anything that affects deep memory, emotions or personality but you rebuilt your optic and motor nerves. I filmed the whole thing! You were glorious. You said you could teach? Could you teach me? I'll go get the Dunmer students so we can have a Seminar study! EEEEEE!"

The squeak she had been holding for apparently several hours had finally let out and I could tell she had pronounced the word seminar with a capital S. Am I going to have to wear a robe for this? Do I even have a robe? I closed my eyes and sought out the inspiration that had caused this change. According to studies Tinkers could not deliberately trigger fugues or turn them off. I felt a sort of switch in my mind. I could turn one on now if I liked. I theoretically could turn one off but I could see that while in the fugue the mania, endorphins and adrenaline would almost certainly make me not want to. I could immediately see the design of a biological organ that would synch with my tracker to dump me out of that state whenever anything came towards me above a certain velocity that was not a designated friendly. I could see how to add this in biological or technological form for everything from a sliding door to an autoturret. My left hand held my pip boy and my right hand began idly assembling parts for the target filter. I took my hand off my mouth and slapped down my other hand.

Is this what they mean by tinker powers need to be used? None of the case studies I had read mentioned things like this but all of them were heavily redacted by the PRT. Maybe this is what Dragon has with her specialty of copying more reproducible versions of others' tech. This is what I have wanted since I was six. This is what I went to the hellhole that is Brockton University for! And I will never be allowed to use it without the educational credentials and never use it in full because no Parahumans can be in the "safe" areas of PRT labs.

"Fuck."

"I am pretty sure we don't have that kind of relationship boss but maybe if you cleaned up a little?" Tabby once again had snuck up on me grinning like a cat. "I'm sure your high priestess would be willing to give you a sponge bath, with her tongue." She stuck her tongue out and pulled down an eyelid. I should not have given her unrestricted internet access and anime was a mistake.

"Tabby, I thought your investigations into interesting rocks would take hours. WHy are you back here?" I rubbed my temples and sighed.

"Boss it has been two days since you went under, almost three, but I have made some serious findings. The materials are psychoreactive and can be imprinted with certain impressions. Check this out." She holds out a small rock that has been carved to look like a frog. I could see odd weak points in the structure so it was definitely more complex than a carving should be. A small top hat has been glued to its head. "I've synched this one to my own perception and had it feel happy. Look away."

I oblige her and I hear the strains of "Hello, my Ragtime Gal" come from behind me. When I turn around to look it is back to being a normal frog statue. Tabby showed me the video and the damned thing got up and danced while I wasn't looking. I could see the ball and socket joints she had made a small golem that would fold down into the rock. A piece of the strange matter was in its core next to an activator. It was not made entirely of the material otherwise the entire thing would have vanished when no one observed.

"Neat huh? The surveillance and stealth applications are incredible. Something that could let you know when you're being observed. Sure it doesn't work on cameras but combine it with Squealer's stealth tech and we've definitely got something.

"Squealer's stealth tech so far is irreproducible and I have no idea how to mix whatever magic you put in that thing with regular mechanical parts but I see your point, we should work on it, and by me I mean you." See, I was learning how to delegate!

POV Sammy

Three days of love, home cooking and amphetamines were just a burst of joy but the comedown had to start eventually and I had to get my friends out of here. I started to head out. My mother stopped me.

"You can't go out again Sam, I was afraid you'd never come back. I can't go through that again. Besides your friends can stay here, we need more observers. Besides, Todd can always leave and come back with new luxuries now. We don't have to subsist on lost military surplus. We can be normal." She stood between me and the door. Her apron strings were firmly tied to my heartstrings and man could she tug.

"I have to go Ma, I am the only person besides Todd who's ever managed to make it out and back again. Besides I've talked to the grey guys you met. Several of them want to stay here. The land is good to mine when the city has faded out and they want to study the bricks and the buildings. They'll be observing everyone super closely and they only need four hours of sleep a night. Things are getting better." I tried to reassure her but my pleas were falling on deaf ears.

"It has to get lonely out there. I know you can pull yourself out but it can't be healthy to risk blinking out and never coming back all the time."

"We've talked about this. Until we find a way to get rid of The Stranger's second fucking curse on this place we have to find ways to use the first. I'm working with people, maybe not good people but so far they've kept their word and stayed bought. They hired a Master to wipe my memories of this place so I'd have a chance to get back here. I know I can hire them again."

"What if they master you even more? What if you come back not being you again?" She is practically in tears at this point. I try to walk to the door but she physically grabs my arm. "I won't let you go. I am your mother and a councilwoman and I forbid it"

I sigh and leak a few tears myself. I shout out to my sister to keep an eye on mom. She muzzily wakes up.

"Wha?"

But she has been trained for years at this point to keep eyes on someone when asked.

I slip out of my mother's grip and move to the corner of the room. I release a folded mylar sheet I keep in my pocket, cover myself and I'm gone. I can only pray that someone from the van expects me to be back soon. Oh, turns out Mike was expecting me a fair while ago and is doing so still.

"Hi Mike."

"Sam" Mike looks tired, drained and slightly miffed. " I have a few questions for you. I asked Todd already but he hasn't noticed anything weird going on. He just knows whenever he ends up here he sells out of absolutely everything he brings, but everyone underpays so he mostly brings cheap shit and gets rid of old stock. Also several of the Dunmer are staying, which is fine by itself but several others were roofied and kidnapped. What the entire fuck is going on?"

"Stranger danger?"

"Stop fucking around Sam, like it or not I am responsible for these people and I am more than willing to put a blanket over everyone's head and leave them unguarded."

Whelp he's already figured out one secret.

"Well you've already figured out one secret. There was a stranger/shaker lived here, no one knows who but we eventually figured out how he triggered. He got clipped by a car coming out of his house, no one helped him. He managed to crawl back inside and bled out before anyone noticed. Screamed his head off and tried to call people but no one picked up. Just one of those who fell through the cracks. Very nearly died. Was going to die."

"So he made it so everyone would definitely pay attention to each other. Damn. But why hasn't this been solved with attracting tourists, bringing in people, hell just buying tv time and being obnoxious?"

"Well cameras by themselves won't see people right, and too long a lag keeps it from working. But the fucker left another 'gift'. No one who is looking for this place can ever get there. Hell no one who even would prefer to be here or wants to be here can get here."

"How the hell did you get back then? How does Todd?" he seems significantly more pissed but not at me.

" Got no fucking clue how the hell Todd does anything. I think it involves his dice, but I had to pay out the ass to have a Master wipe my memories but compel me to stick to him and a half a dozen other things unconsciously to get this shipment. Then I got Todd to agree to let me travel with him wherever he goes and to expect me promptly at 8 am every day. He is to assume someone is holding me hostage or it is a goddamn endbringer level emergency if I don't show up and we have about a hundred meeting points around the country where he can check for me."

"Seems like you work a little differently."

"I was on the edge of the effect, coming home from camp. I can appear wherever someone expects me, they don't need to visualize or see me. I still fade out when I'm unobserved and have nothing specific on my schedule though. I can hold off fading in if I want to. Plus half of us stay conscious when we're disappeared. It's a foggy realm of crystals and nightmares but some of us can cope. We noticed people don't age at all when faded out so some of the older folks just went and hid, hoping someone would fix the effect one day and trying to stay alive and sane til then. Every so often more folks try it. Sometimes out of despair, sometimes to freeze themselves when they have life threatening injuries"

"How the hell are any of you still alive? How do you eat? The food here must be damn near inedible."

"Early on a group of us left the city. Five of them made it to the local military base, two were believed before it was too late." I sit and light a new Bidi. " The Army agreed to keep everything hush hush and do weekly orienteering exercises for supply convoys in the area. As a full field test they load everything up and then practice their navigation by removing all their navigation devices. We're not on any of their maps so about twice a month they get lost and end up here."

I know I shouldn't chainsmoke but the smoke gives me comfort. " We have the right passwords to get them to give us the supplies. Everyone at base except military intelligence thinks the convoys are just being smuggled or sold off the books. Any one who has been on the convoy gets shipped out to another base and sworn to secrecy so no one could want to be here."

I motion for Mike to sit down with me. He looks at me with pity in his eyes. Too bad it's going to leave soon. "We also get lost travelers from time to time and they're kept. Some folks kept in as close to luxury as we can manage but some folks just don't want to die so they've kept some stragglers chained up in their basements. It's the latter that you have your friends." His hand is around my throat. He seems surprised to see it too then he lets go.

"Sorry, still getting that under control. We have to go get them. You're doing it."

"The fuck? I mean I get they're my people and I deserve it but I'm not a fighter."

"You saw. I would probably accidentally kill someone on the way. Ahira doesn't know when not to set things on fire, so it might hurt the hostages, the other Dunmer don't understand guns or cities, and Todd is even less of a fighter than you."

"Ok, fair, can you at least load me up with stuff?"

"My mods are sketchy at best."

"You spent the last week working on something with buzz saws for hands!"

"That's supposed to be a construction drone, it's there to make more construction drones."

"Von neuman paperclip monsters notwithstanding can it fight?" He looks up something on his weird wrist shackle computer.

"Apparently yes and it already has a software loadout for that." He looks surprised but pushes send on his console and the floating octopus orb death thing floats over to me. "Good luck."

I head out with the drone, apparently its name is Mr Handy. I can see that. He has a lot of hands. One of his measuring laser levels has been replaced by something far more deadly.

I ask around with the sort of people that used to be on the outskirts of town before that became impossible, the sort of folks with the skills needed to make a roofie colada on short notice and the people who generally served the drinks. Then I follow the money.

I found a councilman's house, still opulent even under these conditions. I even see a horse from the stables on the grounds. I had assumed he just employed several teams of people to keep the mansion observed. He did in fact employ dozens but now I know he has 'guests' pick up the slack.

Everyone in town has learned to be pretty observant but everyone also has learned to be obvious so they're seen. Bright colors and jangly accessories are practically mandatory for everyone regardless of age and gender. I might be the only person in the city who still remembers how to do the hide part of hide and seek.

Nothing in the mansion is locked. Any property that would be taken would just return to its start position so long as it is bound somewhat firmly, and opulence is useless if you can't show off for others. Coming in is a cakewalk, I am already a professional deliverer of things and the droid is in that most classic of stealth suits, a wooden crate. I come to the councilman's office. His secretary and his son are there. "Delivery for Councilman Gundersson." They let me in, all smiles and handshakes. I step behind the secretary and put a cloth bag over her head. Seconds later I do the same to the son. Mr Handy places them on top of each other so they are still observing one another through touch. I cover myself in smoke and let the bastard fade. The smoke clears, he hasn't faded and neither have I. He seems as confused as I am. He carefully reaches for his brandy snifter and shatters it on the table before putting it in the crate. The only being who could see the shards is Mr Handy. Slowly we both look in the box. The snifter is still in pieces.

The Councilman puts an arm around me and heartilly shakes my hand.

"It's a miracle, you found a machine that can truly see people! Your method of demonstration was a little abrupt but I can't thank you enough!"

I shoot him in the knees. While he is screaming I speak.

"I definitely will be asking my tinker friend to make more of these to be put around the city but you still shouldn't have kidnapped my passengers. Fuck with me again or try to arrest me for this and I'll seal you in a box and bury you so deep even these things' sonar won't reach you." He rolls around on the floor and I take it as an agreement. I unhood the others in the room. "Same goes for you."

Mr Handy and I leave the building, I head to the town square and start demonstrating his power. I play it off like I already hired Mike for this very purpose and was nervous it might not work which is why I didn't tell anyone to get their hopes up. They all buy it, even the ones that doubt me go along for fear of not getting a Mr Handy of their own. I am sure Mike will forgive me.

POV Micah

"AAAAAAAAAUGGH! My first piece of tinker tech that I had made, my first baby I built on purpose and with my own hands. My ticket to replicable supertech and Sammy as much as sells it out from under me. I admit it is inspiring to see the town come together to fetch and carry materials for Mr Handy to use to make more of his brethren, then see the new Handys make more.

While they are doing so I install that little bit of IFF I had before. The Mr Handy has become Mr N.U.S.P.I. No user serviceable parts inside. The software won't change, the Mr Handy won't build anything but Mr Handys, and won't repair anything but authorized Mr Handies. They require 10 adult humans near them in order to make more and they each can't make more than 10 in a lifetime.

Making self replicating tech is a swift ticket to the birdcage but the Military officers write me an exemption for this one in particular. I guess the cat is out of the bag as far as that goes, and tinkertech that can repair tinkertech means the target on my back is going to be huge. Lucky for me the Military loathes sharing intel with the PRT and the only thing they hate more is sharing what few parahumans they have access to. Rules are, any parahuman is basically governed by the PRT but any soldier is not subject to civilian laws of that kind but the UCMJ. This means Uncle Sam only has access to the capes that trigger while in service and only get to keep the ones that re-enlist. This is nearly none and the few they get tend to be whisked away to secret bases.

The things that keep me from being whisked away to the cornfield are relatively simple. First off I am already known to the PRT courtesy of Watchdog. Second, my team are some of the best escape artists available and I can disappear into my own private town. MI (Military Intelligence) agrees with me that The PRT doesn't need to know about the tech, especially considering it doesn't help with the whole "People can't get here to find out" thing. Plus, they very very much want me to be available for contracts on self repairing tech to deal with the Yangban. They'll talk to their superiors and the wheels of bureaucracy were set in motion. I don't have a regular contact method except for my student email. They informed me that they will find me and that wasn't horrifying at all. Hey I got my ability to lie back!

Words 30621

Author's Note

The way I am playing it. I don't know if it has been said before but the armed forces can not recruit any parahumans but if a person triggers while still under contract to the US military they can keep them for until the contract is up. Sadly they can't renew it but it means there are a few overworked parahumans in the military and the ones that stay don't much like the Protectorate keeping them from re-upping and worse forcing them to not even be well paid military contractors in exchange. The very patriotic ones take the pay hit and work as contractors anyway.

Chapter 13: Chapter 12

Chapter Text

Chapter 12

Ok, man, driving down empty highways at night in the desert is certainly conducive to introspection. That or ending up spattered across the pavement due to falling asleep 'cause the scenery is so damned boring. We pass nothing but cacti and the occasional horse. Eventually it all just looks like the same cactus and the same horse. But this has been the only time I have had to breathe in a fair while, so it's rubber duck time again Mr Pip Boy.

Things have happened to me.:

First, I found a tinkertech key that leads to an interdimensional place. I've read what works of Professor Haywire are allowed for publication, and it appears he missed a few spots. There are at least 2 extradimensional axes he didn't account for, and other earths are out there, different not only in events but in physics. It is clear that whoever made the key knew this and was studying the unexpurgated version of his notes, which is super illegal. Explains what he might have been doing in an illegal gang safe house looking to buy supplies.

Second, A theory follows from the first, one that actually fits his notes. A reason they are banned is that the theory is that when you poke a hole in the dimensional wall, it tries to widen itself if you don't stop it. If you make one big enough, it starts attracting things enough to try to widen itself faster until somefukingthing happens. This is why the aperture of his the government has now is only large enough to let signal through, not even significant amounts of matter, and even that they monitor closely.

Third follows from first and second. I have a big space hole bolted to me, so it attracts free floating crap from the nearby blind eternities. From what I hear from my extradimensional friends: gods, wizards, demons etc use that space to just cram things they don't want anymore or save stuff they don't want someone else to get. I appear to have my warehouse prodding into some primordial machine thing's storage closet where he stashes bits of worlds that have been blown up but only if they agree to it (or so they say, agreeing may involve some significant social pressure or duress).

Fourth, the key that holds the aperture into the other world is physically connected to my body around my head or hands somehow. Any clothes that I catch have been on me. Random debris have fallen in circular patterns around me, people have shown up next to me and places have been as adjacent as possible without appearing inside existing matter.

Fifth, This shit only shows up when I am asleep.

Sixth, all the stress of being host to some very illegal tinkertech has made me trigger. That's fair, I was in one of the worst moments of my life and was liquefied. Of course in the usual ways powers do not help the situation, I got thinker powers. I got shot, wondered why, was sad I'd never get the job I worked on since I was six, trying to give tinkertech to the people, so I ended up a thinker. A tinker thinker, that is, a thinker that thinks about tinkers. Which I suppose may count as a half-assed trump since it's a power that affects powers? It's not a tinkerer that makes shit that gives them thinker abilities, those are pretty common.

Seventh, I am now a parahuman so even if I have the power I can never join the PRT nor a cool private tech company like I hoped due to federal laws about parahumans in the PRT and NEPEA-5.

Eighth, My power seems to be closest to Dragon's, She can build what other tinkers make then her and teams of engineers, engineers I wanted to be one of, figure out what pieces can be mass-produced but still without understanding the fundamentals. My power just lets me understand all of the technology, along with everything theoretical needed to teach or learn it. I just get fuck all ability to actually build anything. I have compulsions to build but even when I let my thinker power go on autopilot to make shit I can't tinker any faster or better than I could with just a normal toolkit. I don't get a cool montage. I don't get to calibrate nanotech with a pair of pliers and always have everything fit "just so". I don't get to do a year's work in a day like every other tinker on the planet, including the damned origami tinker in south LA. Nope. I have to obey dumb shit like the laws of time and space, the limits of human hand precision and fucking scheduling. I get exactly what I wanted, and I can't use it; I got the worst of both worlds.

Ninth. I am largely fuck useless to myself but apparently I am useful as a delivery boy and over time I might be able to slowly build something that can make shit quickly, or maybe Squealer will work with me and we can find a regular human cutout to fund a car company. Maybe I will finish out the business degree after all, if only to meet the right kind of people.

Thanks Pip Boy, talking things out always helps. I have to give up literally every path I have ever imagined to reach my dream but it's ok. In exchange, I skipped up the ladder to get many rungs closer. I think I may have lost track of this metaphor, but at least I know what I mean! I just have to try and make some new paths before someone locks me in a tower and makes me their blueprint bitch.

Then again if the food is good and the interdimensional seining net strapped to my forehead means I'll never lack for new people to meet. There are worse things I could be. I'd still rather not, tho. The Pip Boy seemed to sparkle a little brighter at my praise. Then again so did the road ahead of me. I think it is time to switch driver.

"Hey Mike?" Todd tapped my shoulder. "Why did you spend that entire time talking to your captain's log or whatever? I'm right fucking here man. I know stuff."

"Ah, um, I usually make these logs like a day after everything has happened, so I can look up the relevant context, and so I actually know what happened. Plus, I can edit them in text form and record little sound clips. It keeps me from looking like such a dingus," I admitted into my recorder for reasons that still escape me. "But I'll bite, Todd, what do you know about all this."

I am going back to transcribing these later before bed or after enforced unconsciousness so I don't ruin Todd's flow by interrupting his train of thought.

Todd mused a moment, fiddled with his dice. "It doesn't matter, man."

"Excuse me, what?" I was relatively incredulous.

"It doesn't matter why or where or how the powers happen. Nobody really knows shit and the ones that do lock it away behind secret clearances and stuff."

"Don't tell me you believe in the illuminati or aliens"

"Dude, we have aliens in this car right now."

"Ok, fair, but the illuminati? Human beings aren't organized or infallible enough to keep from running the average restaurant into the ground, and we need food. We just saw the military and a lot of them were organized and on their shit, but they had enough random clusterfucks per month that entire convoys could have things "fall off the back of a truck" and have no one care."

"I dig it, but there's something you're forgetting."

"Oh, what is it."

"Oh, I don't know what it is, but I'm sure you're forgetting something. We just went into a town where people forget where it is and then can't even tell anyone else. How do you know you haven't been flashy thingies by the men in black before? Sure, maybe most people like us can't keep a conspiracy going but what if you never meet the competent ones cause they all get grabbed by the conspiracy?"

"Todd, I hate you a little bit right now."

"Why man?

"Cause you just explained to me my life's work, no, my life's goal was not just meaningless but impossible to perform, and your explanation sounds eerily plausible. I don't want to live on a world where all of mankind's best and brightest are brain drained away to some secret bullshit project keeping the other 99% down."

"Look on the bright side, man."

"Bright side?

"Yeah, unlike the rest of us schmoes you have a decent chance of getting off this rock and living somewhere else. Plus, you won't have to be here forever."

"Why not?"

"Like of all new triggers die in their first two years, even the PRT ones and the gang ones. You're not here for a long time, so you'd better make it a good time."

"Todd, I changed my mind."

"Yeah."

"I hate you a whole lot right now, and the Pip Boy was a better conversationalist."

"Yeah, well that's just, like, your opinion man, also the dice say turn left here."

"Aye aye captain."

By way of apology, Todd had us stop at a rest stop and bought me an icee, plus he didn't protest me controlling the audio in the car for the rest of our shift. If you care, we ended up listening to a bunch of GameChops Chiptunes digital music had been really growing on me lately. Next stop was Dayton, Ohio, unless we found another one of those dinosaur-themed tourist traps. My appreciation for them had grown, too.

POV Todd

Our summoner has not yet cottoned to the atemporal nature of his work. Summoning us to appear several years before the call was a wise measure, but it used wisdom he had not yet developed. We fear our obligation to defend and obey him even in this time and place may will have been a mistake on our part when we agreed to this. But time in the blind eternities is so cold and lonely. No one to trade with, no other little Orz. No happy *people energy* to *germinate*. The blind eternities are boring and if one does not trade they must instead engage in *parties* and I do not like partying.

I know our people had to leave *heavy space* to find new markets but we should not have pushed to far *above*. As places go though, this place has many *desires* to fulfill and many goods to trade. It even has humans like the second of the three *home* layers, and they always *smell* nice.

I don't much like the *Party* couple on this planet. I think they *party* too hard. Hopefully our summoner will have them keep the nose down and tell them when it is time to go home. If not we will be free of the summons but free to what? Languish in the blind eternities *scentless* for countless time? We may not be able have a direct causal connection with his success without kicking off the *party* but maybe more hints will help. This would be much much easier if he knew how to *breathe* or meditate or just engaged in some mind altering substance that could shift his perspective into one more *squishy*.

Ah well, *silly cows* must moo, and humans gonna human. I wonder if he will summon a clutch of additional Orz or perhaps remove part of me to make me asymmetrical, it would be nice to have other Orz around. Don't worry little *ungulate* who watches over us. We are on your side and hope if the *party* happens you will be the ones without a *hangover*.

We toss the platonic solids. The physics of the *heavy* place is so beautiful I could get lost in its permutations, sometimes I do, especially if I am in an atmosphere. Incalculable turbulence and yet the infovores wish to determine how to overcome turbulence itself. They should try to live sometime where there is none. It is dull and *sticky* and gets in your teeth.

Words 32645

AN Yes this is the Todd from the Forge Trait that he rolled honestly. If you want an explanation please PM me but warning, spoilers,

Chapter 14: Chapter 13

Chapter Text

Chapter 13

AN: Please remember this is 2008 Dayton pre hurricane. Still the number 3 for drug crime in the US but also the number one place for college grads to get a job since the engineering sector was booming. Don't @ me for not making Dayton the basically dry Brocton that it is today.

Dayton is absolutely where I should be. It's a former industrial area that is full to the brim with recently minted engineers from all over trying to decipher the secrets of tinkertech and trying to work on modern planes that have a reduced chance of getting Simurghed. That being said I had no idea why we were here until it was explained. We were here to buy and sell. Buy knockoff designer tinker drugs. Sell the base materials to make knockoff designer tinker drugs to the young fresh Chemical engineers, so they don't get done in ordering the stuff or stealing it from their jobs. I will say distributing pharmaceuticals to relieved but nervous college students was now well within my skill set, so for the first time I went on the deal with Todd while Sammy and Ahira stayed by the car and did the loading and unloading thing.

It felt pretty good, I must say. I met some folks that maybe next year when I graduate I can use as a reference. If nothing else, they know I can keep an NDA and deliver things on time. It's a nice stop and it was good to see the sun and get some fresh air. I had extra time what with no one attacking or suddenly appearing or anything, so I went to the Air Force Museum. I just totally geeked out on everything and got to scan an actual space shuttle, a real one that went to space, made by humans before the winged misery showed up.

I'm not a patriot and definitely not militarily minded, but fast planes go nyooom! I considered enlisting just to maybe one day fly one. Then I came to my senses, bought some astronaut ice cream, and came home to find two of my students fucking on my bed.

"Hi Boss!" Tabby smiled and waved while riding some Dunmer that I didn't recognize. "You want to get in on this? You should really get on or get out, this is kind of a thing." She continued with blithe indifference to the social awkwardness.

"You're in my bed" I blinked slowly

"I mean yeah, otherwise I wouldn't invite you to join. Not that you're not cute, but I have other shit to do today and keeping two guys is just a scheduling nightmare, but targets of opportunity are cool." She went back to riding her… friend? And ignoring me.

"You're ON, MY bed!" I was honestly getting pretty pissed, was this some kind of cultural error I didn't know about? Was this normal to her?

"Obviously. It's the only decent mattress on this entire demiplane. All we have to sleep on in the mine are the clothes you gave us, hides, rocks, and slightly softer rocks. Also, Turil is one of your very faithful. He has a shrine with your hair and everything. When I told him I had the key, he practically jumped me. Also this is the only soundproof room. Fucking in caves gets echoey." She turned away, and her mouth was otherwise occupied. She had clearly decided the conversation was over. She did some kind of gesture that I'm not sure I could replicate but it indicated I was allowed to join in but she was clearly done talking.

The man, Turil apparently, blushed and waved. I noticed he had something on his head. Then I noticed it was my underwear. At this point, I was too baffled to be mad.

"You know what? Fine. Launder everything when you're done I'm going to go source some cheap mattresses. This one is a second or third hand college dorm mattress and if that is the standard of luxury we can source several. Just, I don't know, make sure you sanitize… everything. Use the DNA scanner to check, and tell Toril he can keep the undies but no more better go missing.

Toril responded with a nearly shouted "Yes!" but I couldn't tell if it was religious ecstasy or the other kind. Hell with what we're loaded with right now it could be all three. I was still mad, but also kind of guilty. I admit they're both damned cute, but they're my students and that's super not ok. Then I kind of got depressed.

I started making the calls around and looking at local craigslist equivalents. Sourcing mattresses since we had things that could remove any organic stains from them was piss easy. Sourcing soundproofing foam that wasn't a scam was harder, but at least they had it. Then I thought about Ahira.

Did I abuse my power over her? I mean, she didn't have to be with me at all. Then again no money, no place else to go. On the other hand we didn't do the do til after the Merchant party and she definitely was offered other jobs. On the gripping hand she was kinda brainwashed to see me as a living god. On the other gripping hand I mean she could break me like a twiglet and I did make it extremely clear that I feared and respected her ability to do so. Does that equate? Does my extreme social power over her balance out her ability to kill me with a thought and a twitch? Fuck it.

"Ahira, can you come here a minute?" I shouted into the machine shop.

"Absolutely my Chosen" She shouted back and then turned off the angle grinder.

"Ohgod. Are you ok with us being together?"

She paused for a moment looking at me with guileless eyes. "Where else would I be My Lord? I was sent here by the Holy Ordo Machinum. It is my place in the universe.

"I mean Being together being together."

"Oh the meat sex. It's fine, it clearly makes you happy, and I'm learning to put nerve clusters in places I didn't have them before. My cortical homunculus is changing in all sorts of interesting ways! It's fascinating. Sometimes it feels nice too! Plus you're replacing your meat with true flesh so maybe sometime we could have sex!" She answered in her usually peppy chirp.

That was a lot to process. Does she qualify as ace? What even is sex to her? I mean she had her bits surgically removed to put in more memory sticks or something I don't even. Wait, fun sometimes dang I need to up my game. Wait, no I shouldn't be thinking of that. You know what, people get into relationships for all kinds of reasons and everyone, legit everyone chooses their partners based on social programming of one sort of another. I'm going to keep things how they are until I understand this, and also maybe work on my glute bridges. I just lack too much context.

"You know what Ahira, I have been spending too much time talking in the seminars and in our lessons. How about you teach me about the Ordo Machinum and what they believe."

My IFF briefly went off, determining she was moving towards me at greater than permitted velocity. Then my genelock tagged her as friendly. She was very friendly. She picked me up in a hug and twirled me around twice before putting me back in the chair.

"You want ME to teach YOU the holy scriptures! Also the Ordo Machinium sent me. They determine if a person going somewhere or doing something is right. I'm of the Adeptus Mechanicus. We determine if doing something is possible! Oh I have to change and get ready and get that USB projector. I will be right back, sit right there, NO sit in the comfy office chair we got in Seattle this will take a while. EEEEEEE!"

Her squee had a definite square wave to it, like a high note on a synthesizer. What could I do? I brewed some tea, moved to the nicer chair and sat down. I hear distant shouting.

"Tabby Get out I need to get at my holy books under the bed!"

I hear some thumping and Tabby, and Turil carrying my mattress head over to the Machine shop. Well it does have soundproofing. I feel the need to add something.

"Tabitha, now you're going to have to clean off any metal dust or inorganics from the mattress when you're done. I want it cleaner than when I got it."

"Aye Aye Captain!" She whistles the Spongebob Theme song as she drags Turil, still wearing my Y fronts as a mask, into the shop.

We spent the entire rest of the day talking about her home and their customs. From time to time Dunmer stepped in and out of the conversation when she spoke about psykers, demons and other magic adjacent phenomena. As it turns out a lot of their faith magics work on identical principles but one assumes the existence of something called The Warp. The other does also but presumes there is some kind of time dragon god between them and it. Or at least there was until there was some kind of time hole.

Ahira was surprisingly both interested and tolerant of the practices and beliefs. From what she told me, ideas like that would be punished quite harshly or given "The Emperor's Mercy" back home. She explained that she was very clearly told, and once she got here she spent many days verifying that there is no warp around here, none at all, nada. The local physics did not support the stuff and is far far less psychoreactive.

She had spent days in prayer, several times a day trying to commune with the machine spirits around her. She found that her rites and rituals still worked, but they weren't connecting to anything, no personalities, no psyche, no holy connection. Or, as she surmised, it was all Holy. This place had never known the touch of an Orc and the Dunmer were about as related to Eldar as a rabbit is to a rabbit ear cactus. Perhaps this is a place where the forces of chaos had been pushed back and this was merely a besieged rustic farmworld. It is after all barely inhabited. Not enough people to fill a hive.

Or maybe this place was never touched by chaos and never will be. Her time passing through the Blind Eternities had opened her eyes to the limits of chaos. Even the warp, while arbitrarily large is not infinite and in the infinite depth of the multiverse, things not even a mad god can dream are possible.

Plus frankly she didn't have enough people or backup to convene a Synod and decide if something is heretical, and she was ordered and then programmed not to end herself so that is pretty much how she had to be.

After the long and exhaustive lesson, she and I went back to bed and slept.

POV Ahira

I entered my usual state of prayer, compiling my log and thoughts of the day and guarding My Chosen. When did I start thinking of him as My Chosen instead of The Chosen? That requires later analysis. It is sad that he still clings to the weakness of flesh that forces him to sleep. Dreams are more easily realized through hard work than by simply dreaming! What were all of today's questions about? Is he mentioning these things because he wants to reproduce? I do have viable material, and I'm sure we can both whip up an incubator quite quickly. Perhaps his new discoveries about augmenting his flesh with electrodense material made him wish to create a new person with such things from the start to avoid rejection issues.

I am torn, however. My part of the Mechanicus exalts the idea of perfect synthesis of man and machine, the true flesh is woven of a mixture of carbon and metal. But much of the dogma considers eating purely for taste or touching purely for pleasure weaknesses of the flesh. Then again they also consider gathering data and new experiences so long as they are not heretical a most holy act. I have studied neuropathways of man very extensively my augments are the best from my entire sector. Reward systems in a human brain thrive on novelty, but also novelty can frighten. Most importantly the Hedonic Treadmill means that indulging in any new pleasure for extended periods will force the user to seek out novel experiences. Boredom is one of the greatest motivators of creativity besides spite. Enjoying myself makes me want to do more enjoyable things, then those become boring and I want to do more things. It's a great way to collect more and varied data! I am pleased that Tabitha understands this, she is a good friend. Although I still have to stop myself from melting her when she sneaks up behind me. I must remember that she is not a Xeno, or rather here I am as much a Xeno as she is. Maybe I could convince her to wear an IFF tracker. Then again, I am not sure if our friendship is serious enough for jewelry yet.

I don't know if I am ready to reproduce, we haven't even picked creche parents to raise the child. Then again, he did go through the trouble of helping set up an entire creche town devoted to such things. Insisting all of the children be put there and having them interact with the locals seem to be good for its long term prospects as a creche. I think I have a good read on My Chosen though. I believe he wants to minimize responsibility for a while, and his cultural ethos stretches a parental responsibility to one's offspring. Although I have studied and found that his religio-ethnic group engages in proper community child raising far more often than most of its related ones. I should expand my research on Kibbutzim.

Perhaps he finds my actions when we engage in touch for pleasure to be insufficient. Again I have checked with many of the locals, especially Expert/Teacher Sherrel about this, and she says I am very adept and from what she has heard definitely in the highest quartile of proficiency. She also mentions though that those that present as masculine and are of The Chosen's age usually lack both skill and the taste to know what's good.

I have found his aesthetics both pleasing and efficient in any carbon or true flesh systems he creates or uses. His recent arm modification is divinely inspired and I can't wait to see how it grows. I wonder if he would mind if I touched it for pleasure. The material would be totally unique so would the sensations also be unprecedented? Even if potentially unpleasant it would be wonderful to find out!

I think I will ask Adam to touch him for pleasure. Sherrel says he is the most gifted at causing masculine presenting people to enjoy touch she has ever known. I could observe and find out what is optimal. Also perhaps I could suggest that he optimize his methods of pleasure touching as well. I wonder if Adam has similar teaching skills for use on femme presenting beings, or if presentation does not alter the efficacy of his methods. I will surely find out when we get back to our point of origin!

For now he is stirring and reaching out for comfort. I will provide it and keep him safe and make sure his words are recorded and his will is done. It is a pure joy and one I know well.

Words 35,257

New Power :

Strange Formula Nitrimine (Marvel Cinematic Universe Vol. 1) (200CP)

Strange Formula (100CP)

This chemical formula is the brainchild of the German scientist Dr. Erskine, and is directly responsible for the creation of Captain America. As is, this is only the formula, and you must make it yourself... but as a result it could possibly let you modify the serum for other uses. Beware its tendencies to amplify the personality traits of the user, or be prepared to find a way to fix that fact.

Nitrimine (Marvel Cinematic Universe Vol. 1) (100CP)

The formula for the chemical compound known as Nitramene, this compound has multiple purposes. A typical Nitramene bomb has a blast radius of five hundred yards after which it creates a vacuum that causes an implosion as matter rushes to fill the void that it has created, but a grenade of that size will do considerably less damage. On the other hand, Nitramene also emits low levels of Vita Radiation, which has a specific wavelength that has stabilizing properties.

Soundtrack of the Galaxy Free

What's a good act of heroism or villainy without some kind of music to back you up? This will ensure that you have a fine selection of music that you feel defines the moment, whatever it may be. Superb orchestra, rock music, even a hefty dash of songs from the 1980s if that's your thing. I'll even throw in this handheld cassette player that can work in deep space to listen to it from if you feel like it. Plan and act your day with style.

Tactical Suit free

A standard bodysuit made of a polymer blend with ten layers of treated composite materials,

allowing for state of the art protection. Default appearance of a S.H.I.E.L.D. logo and emblem,

but you may choose a different style upon acquiring this.

Chapter 15: Chapter 14

Chapter Text

Chapter 14

Todd made me a peace offering today. He is still a classic rock dude but he wanted to share with me the songs that meant something to him. He made me a mixtape and even gave me a walkman to play it on. Is he hitting on me? Dating Todd would definitely not strain my ethics, my sanity probably but not my ethics. But he's mostly not my type.

In other 70's news, going to thrift shops and army surplus stores netted us a ton of mattresses plus some box springs and frames. We also went to a fabric store and had everyone feel cloth to see what they like and bought them each a bolt of something cheap they would enjoy. Apparently making your own bedding or bedclothes is a thing() with them.

In other other news the 60 odd Dunmer that decided to move into various cities have been the subject of several interesting news pieces as have their quaint folkways and the tragedy of their flight from former Soviet territories and out from under the thumb of a maniacal tinker. Turns out the telepathic translation effect will let them write dunmer phonetically in Cyrillic while imparting no actual ability to speak Russian. This is likely because I know the Cyrillic alphabet and not much else. Many structural linguists are interested and looking into this. Turns out though apparently tiny languages pop up in isolated places in Europe all the time, who knew? Everyone in the Van watches the 60 minutes special on the whole thing.

While we were in Dayton my new weakness scanner really paid off. Everyone and his mother's cat has planes on the brain here so there were a couple of flight crew coveralls and similar jumpsuits. We bought enough for everyone and while we were snagging them I got something for myself. It's a jumpsuit that's blue and clearly built on a 90's pvc fetish means cool aesthetic but I can wear a coat over it. It is a goddamn tinkertech fiber suit.

Bullet resistant, blast resistant ten smooth layers of composite fibers and places to run coms and other systems in while still protecting the wearer. I am going to make this thing into something I won't be embarrassed to be seen in and then I'm going to wear it whenever we might go do capeshit. Second chance body armor goes with every outfit. Plus maybe we can figure out how it works or at least how to make the fibers.

In weirder news the mining team, really more of a geological exploration team since there are like six of them and they don't really mine bulk materials so much as delve into the caves for interesting rocks. Found some kind of mineral neither they nor Ahira had seen, The Pip Boy however had information on it, Nitramene. I could even see how its stability radiation (because that's a thing) could be used for human augmentation and really speed up my current process.

Since everything went smoothly we decided to have a group field trip. After getting a group tour to the Air Force museum we lost a lot of Dunmer to the idea of getting jobs nearby and getting to study or maybe even work on planes. The USAF is a hell of a way to get citizenship but it's happened before.

Some of them instead are going to let their luck ride. Their argument goes something like "We've kept seeing other cool shit so we'd hate to miss out on whatever's next.

All told we have 36 Dunmer aboard by the end of business:

Tabby and her 11 or so geologist explorers. Mostly diviners or dowsers or folks with stone related utility magics.

The remaining priest Ulath and his flock of seven.

9 guards, a military unit that doesn't want to split the party. They were going to stay in the Utah Compound but in the absence of their commanding officer they voted 6 to 3 to stay with us and if nothing else protect the other Dunmer and report back.

I don't see them much except for when they are helping guard people or things. I hear they are going through some sort of test or something to see which of them gets to be the new C.O. More power to em,

We have 4 people like fucking Turil who are basically stalkers but I can't really bring myself to tell them to fuck off until I have a decent place for them to fuck off to. I don't want non volunteers sentenced to a mormon apocalypse compound just cause I am a little wigged out. They spend most of their time practicing with Minor Glamours trying to look like The Wonder Girls, Arashi, Westlife or sometimes me. Apparently Glamours are a thing somewhere between Alteration and Illusion and one of the many non utility non combat schools of magic the guards and the miners both disdain.

Plus they have been very diligent in attending the seminars and trying to teach me magic. I def want to learn magic. They had me touch a bunch of weird rocks because of course their ritual magic involves picking up rocks and putting them down. We found out my aspect is the tower. I had read some tarot card stuff so I thought it figured. Apparently the tower means something different to them. Building, safety, and security. I showed them the tower from the tarot, they just said it wasn't up to any decent spec if a lightning bolt could take it out like that

We have a couple, Feran and Delyna, who are basically here on the captain kirk plan. They're trying to eat, drink and screw all the sexy aliens they can while we go on this road trip. Meh, they do good work, help clean the place, tote boxes and don't fuck in the demiplane. Where they are getting the money for fancy dinners or hotel rooms I don't know and I don't want to know.

Last we have Nisimal

Don't know why he is here, Don't know why he cares. He looks about a hundred years older than dirt and apparently Dunmer life spans are not short. He doesn't eat much and doesn't move much from his chair except to sometimes watch the cartoons or gameshows Tabby keep showing everyone. He likes Only Connect even though he doesn't understand a bit of it.

We all had a grand day out and a good sleep afterwards, I wonder what the noise is I am waking up to. It is surprising but also pleasant. Some kind of tune and a gentle vibration. Oh shit it's that burn phone Adam gave me.

"Hello" I try my best to sound professional.

"Hello my man. How is the best transporter in the 48 states doing?" He sounds energetic.

"Um Sammy's ok I guess" I don't know I haven't seen them lately but I know they're here and driving. I make sure to expect them for lunch each day.

"No ya numpty, I'm talking about you, how are you doing on this fiiine summer day." He seems pretty happy, then again I don't think I've seen him other than happy and friendly.

"So you know how you spent your cut of the last trip on real estate and such?" Still chipper but there is a hint of something else I can hear.

"Yeah."

"Well on that leg you gave out product and got money. Pass the slap dear . On this leg you're giving out money and getting product. No, the copper, it brings out my cheeks better. Way I hear it you spent an additional 98 large."

Ah, that's what that whistling sound was, the other shoe.

"Can I take that out of the next leg?" I hope. He laughs.

"What do you know about the ten commandments?"

"Um no other gods before me, graven images.. Um" it had been way too long since hebrew school.

"Naw son the real ones, the ones for if you're in the merchant business. The one you broke, well it could be covered by two. First off, 'That God damned credit, dead it', second is 'Consignment is for Live men not for Freshmen. I am pretty sure you understand them both via the bard? No the other shirt, the one with the buttons" I am somehow glad he is distracted by something during this talk.

"No, can't say that I don't" I am baffled and scared and yet he still sounds happy.

"Neither a lender nor borrower be, my son. Has Sherrel got the lights ready? Ok good"

"Um Hamlet?" I am suddenly glad that I did not decide to fall asleep in Prof. Hebert's English Lit. Class.

"Well give the boy a prize. I tell you what. I have to go put on a performance. Do you know what Dramaturgy is son? Curtain in 15, Thank you 15!"" clearly things were going on in the background.

"No sir"

"Dramaturgy is adapting a story to actable form. Most of salesmanship, leadership and especially the cape life is the opposite. Crafting your actions to fit the narrative. Now when I get back, tomorrow or maybe Friday I don't want to heal the tale of a foolish little boy who lost my 98 large. I want to hear the stirring tale of how one of the most resourceful capes in the States managed to pull victory from the jaws of defeat and bring me 98 G's, you dig? Voice stretching everyone, the tip of the tongue slides trippingly over top of the teeth. David take this whiskey, Annabell you need a lozenge. I have to sound like a pack a day smoker so someone hand me the tequila and a cigar. Alright you fucking jizzmoppers! Ta ta, looks like it's almost showtime. Make sure we all have a lovely bedtime story ok? The best work you ever did dripped out of your father's asshole. Now let's get on the mother cunting road. "

"Yes sir" I swallowed, he hung up.

My phone buzzed again. Adam had sent me a song. "Ten Crack Commandments by Biggie Smalls." He even sent a lyrics sheet with the relevant parts highlighted. I think he may have had this prepared already.

1. Never let no one know how much dough you hold.

2. Never let 'em know your next move.

3. Never trust nobody.

4. Never get high on your own supply.

5. Never sell no crack where you rest at.

6. That goddamn credit? Dead it. You think a crackhead paying you back, shit forget it!

7. Keep your family and business completely separated.

8. Never keep no weight on you!

9. If you ain't gettin' bagged stay the fuck from police.

10. Consignment strictly for live men, not for freshmen.

I'll admit I didn't understand all of it but I got enough to get it. I had to ask Todd what weight meant in this instance. He explained that it meant a significant or arrestable amount of contraband. Instead you should have someone else hold it to make the exchange.

I guess I am going to have to plan my first crime as a supervillian. Well what assets do I have? Invisible Van, Cyborg Blaster, Twelve psychic geologist ninja of varying competence, A new Mr Handy mostly complete. Four fanatic perverts, A handful of faithful with weird elemental magics, A small selection of laz pistols and a greater selection of conventional firearms. What of it can I use?

Handy's out once word gets out we don't want anyone or anything knowing about them. I very much need to figure out a different design. Ahira was having me go through grav plate theory so maybe I'll figure out something. Weird Magics are out, well not so much out as we'll need them to heal us if this goes south. Regular guns are out. Cape fights do not look well on people who use anything but sci fi blasters, God knows why.

That leaves Sammy, The Van (which by now deserves to be capitalized), Ahira, Me, Ninja and lasers. We need 98000 dollars.

Wait I also have the.

"Hey Felran, What's the name of that restaurant where you ran up a 700 bill?"

I think I have the beginnings of a plan. I need to find out where there is a local soup kitchen. I need to find a Dip 'n' Dots truck and I'm going to need to alter the gene reader and copy the Pip Boy's long distance signal reading. Luckily the last one was already done for the Dunmer to keep track of friendlies and hostiles. I'm going to have to get the specs form them right quick.

"Flemming's, why"

"Like the Bond writer?"

"Who is Bond?"

"Ok we're all watching a movie and some of you are fabricating tuxedos"

"What's a tuxedo?"

"I'm sending you specs now. Dont worry they only have to hold up for a night, you don't need the full shirts you can use a dickey. Felran if you ask what a dickey is, I am going to slap you."

"Nope, he knows what a dickey is!" Oh hey Tabby's back, great I'll need her to help me plan. You know what. It's been weeks, I have actually been in an underground lair. I have a death ray. I have a frankly stunning lady scientist. I deserve this.

"MUHUHUHUHUHUAHHAHAHAHAAA!"

Words 37333

New Power

Magos Designation: Engineering (Warhammer 40k - Adeptus Mechanicus) (100CP)

You have attained and been recognized for your comprehension of some of the Machine God's mysteries. Choose a field of Imperial technology such as genetic manipulation, voidship construction, cybernetics or plasma technology. You are among the noted masters of your purview, and can easily create the most common templates of your field. With time, effort and discretion you could even modify and improve upon your specialty as needed. Those few things beyond your full understanding can still be built and maintained by carefully following STC blueprints.

AN

Rolled Gravity specialty, joy! Ok was not expecting this, apparently his training with Ahira has worked very well and there is more "evidence" for him having a thinker power that helps him learn and teach. Also No the mad scientist perk didn't have any side effects. What side effects? Why would you say such things?

Chapter 16: Chapter 15

Chapter Text

Chapter 15

POV Detective Willem Harrel Dayton PD

Beginning recording, Case number 2686 Robbery at Fleming's Steakhouse Tuesday July 8 11:44 pm. Call was placed at 10:50. Incident began at approximately 10:45 PM, Police arrived on the scene at 10:55.

According to eyewitness reports say a Sysco Delivery truck came to the kitchen loading area within its usual delivery window. The kitchen staff was subdued by tying them to a central pillar to get them within the range of a single PRT foam grenade. No eyewitnesses past that point but external security cameras indicate 8 caucasian men of varying ages from late 20's to middle 60's wearing formal tuxedos. They quickly loaded all of the stored food into the truck and sprayed it down with a cooling system modified after it was stolen from a local Dip N Dots van. (Evidence lot #216a.)

The perpetrators then proceeded to head to the various tables around the restaurant and withdraw small semi automatic pistols later determined to be copies of the Walther ppk. One of them went towards the cash register and forced the host of the dining room to empty it into a grey sack.

Two of them went upstairs for reasons unknown, later they were found to have opened the restaurant's vault relieving it of several hundred thousand dollars. The precise amount owed was unclear due to several records being lost or missing.

Wait? Really?

David, this place charges 86 dollars a steak and they hit after the weekend but before they had done a bank drop off. [redacted] 86 [redacted] dollars a [redacted] steak.

"You're recording man, that thing is live"

[Redacted]

One of the perpetrators went to the bar and made what the bartender called a Vesper martini before handing it to a woman who had entered through the front door wearing a golden, featureless, full face mask and otherwise dressed as [Redacted] Really? She was dressed as [Redacted[redacted]-ore. She was dressed as... Honor Blackman's character from the James Bond series of films. Also Rick you have to change this thing's speech to text. I am not having this thing beep me out of the transcript whenever I [Redacted] cat.

"When in your entire life have you ever said [Redacted] cat under any circumstances and not meant [redacted]."

"You don't know, I could be a big Tom Jones fan."

"And you'd sing into an evidence dictation recorder?"

"Fine, a witness might be a big Tom Jones fan."

"Fine, I'll put it on the bugfix list."

"Hey it beats typing these things out by hand"

"You don't have to edit out all the side chatter after it gets put to paper"

"Ahem"

She accepted the proffered drink and spoke into what looked like a wristwatch with two extended tv aerials coming from it. She waved it around the room, said something else and a man came in through the skylight on a jetpack. Specifically, because the aviation nerds here would have my.. Donkey if I record this wrong. A Bell Aerosystems's Bell Rocket Belt circa 1965 as seen in the movie Thunderball. While dressed in a white tuxedo with a featureless full face silver mask.

The pair of older gentlemen then came down from upstairs with a different large grey sack, added its contents to the earlier sack and handed it to the woman dressed as … The Seventh Bond Girl. Throughout all of this everyone involved has been completely silent except for the drink order. The other perpetrators scrambled out of the back door while the man in white left an engraved silver card with the words Silver Screen in large script.

He and the lady bowed and then stepped out of the front door. After several warnings police waited until there was no danger of fire penetrating the building and fired on the couple. The man raised his hand and a silvery white rectangular forcefield halted the bullets in midair. The pair of them walked around the corner and disappeared leaving an open manhole.

Investigations through the sewer led to no evidence or trail found. The 18 wheeler and an unknown amount of the cash was left at a local homeless shelter. The food inside had been packaged in plastic wrap and distributed from the back of the truck the money had been fired into the air via modified Rainmaker brand Cash Cannon left at the scene.

The perpetrators were observed by a concealed security camera changing into jumpsuits and leaving in a pair of Aston Martins. Both of which were found stolen from a local limousine rental company that had had a large pile of cash left in their place.

12:36 addition

The Aston Martins in question were found partially submerged in Wapak Ford, Wapakoneta with several gifts from the Wapakoneta Armstrong Air and Space Museum, a horse, and several gallons of Dip N Dots ice cream.

They are being sent as evidence for investigation.

POV Micah

Illusion magic is my new number one friend. I have never thought I would enjoy being George Lazenby so much. "Woo! We did it! Turil did you get it all?"

Turil began removing his Pussy Galore outfit and glamour spells. "Yes My Lord.!"

"Tolmera you redistributed all of the cash?"

"No my lord." she smiled with the face of Roger Moore.

"Tolmera we can't keep that money. The cops will come looking. I explained investigators here are much better than the ones back home. I began to panic.

"Yes my lord, you did but I have worked in such establishments before. You insisted we use the bill sorter to make sure every dollar was there and distributed in case they had a thinker."

"And?" I began to bite George's fingers to the nub.

"Some of the contents of the safe included books my lord, while the machine was counting I read them, one set had the information that matched the electronic receipts, another set very much did not. The money in the safe matched the "cooked" set of books. I distributed the amount from the "real" set of books. So the money was never there, no crime!" She grinned like a golden retriever.

"Tolmera that means they were laundering money, that means we just stole from the mob." I grabbed Sammy by the vest of their tux. Sammy seemed unmoved.

"Meh, mob won't call the cops. We'll be out of town in another 20 minutes, fuck em. Besides it's silver screen made an enemy of some random fucks in the Dayton mob. Also fuckit not every skimming operation is the mob. Regular rich folks are fine with wage theft and selling cheap meat at three star prices. Price of doing business. Like I said, Fuckem." With that interesting explanation I breathed a little easier. I also put in my Pip Boy's map not to return to Dayton.

"So Tolmera what did we get?"

"37 grand!"

Sammy barked a quick almost laugh " yeah that's not the mob that's a rounding error, no one cares"

"Ok well job well done, just tell me next time."

"You said we werent supposed to talk and we jammed the coms"

"Ok then note, Tabby, make sure we have some way to communicate during a job if we ever do that again. We were very lucky."

"So, Turil, how much did you get on the real job?" I rubbed my hands together with glee as Ahira's mechadendrites danced on a keyboard.

"Currently up to 86.212.43 and rising." She smiled and patted the 'wristwatch' Turil had been wearing. He had scanned the crowd for all of their relevant electronic banking and ID details with my scanner. He's our best illusionist so he needed to be at the center of the effect. I Ahira cobbled together the false flesh for the bond suits. Feran, took on the jetpack, actually a small gravity plate Ahira had me working on to learn how to Adeptly Mechanic attached to some spray painted tubes. He was chosen because he had to start away from the rest of us, knew what the place looked like, and could cast featherfall.

"Stop when you hit around 300,000 and distribute 100,000 to various charities. Donate the other 200,000 in 5 and 10 dollar donations to Silverseam home for the dispossessed and have them wire us back. Todd what is the usual cut for a money launderer?"

"25% with the amount of work you're doing on your end"

"Have them send us back 150,000. Then have someone get 98,000 into a single account and get that to Giuseppe. Delyna?"

"Yes?" She looked somewhat confused as she had not been involved in the heist at all.

"Throw us 10 grand worth of party and Sammy divvy up the rest among everyone."

And there was great rejoicing.

Then there was great recovering. Most of it on the way to somewhere. I didn't take a drive shift. I was actually pretty happy. Ahira was teaching me how to do Mechanicus stuff and I was learning it. There were something like a dozen fields even within her speciality and I couldn't touch her in any of it but I really got a lot of the ideas behind their grav-tech. It sort of dovetailed with the electrodense matter creation I was working on and fit a lot of my undergraduate study work. Just seeing how things fit together was a profoundly religious experience. I was really looking into, really groking one of the four fundamental forces of the universe. Now I was doing so just as I was discovering there are like twenty six of the fuckers.

Different kinds of magic do all kinds of things plus whatever holds the blind eternities together isn't time, space, matter, or energy or any of their derivatives we can understand. But it felt good, you know. To take something that was once in the realm of tinkers and bring it into the realm of man. Plus it was theory knowledge so Sammy couldn't fucking sell it off at the next town. I know we did the right thing but I'm gonna miss Mr Handy. I think with this new understanding I'm gonna build a new one.

This one is not going to be self repairing so I don't get caged and is going to have a completely different profile. Fuck. I am still limited to normal human building speeds. The grav plate was cool but it was basically a 2x4 of thing-go-up-now metal and only had like 2 charges in it. They had to escape on foot. I have it. I'll make a thing that builds Mr Handy's that is not a Mr Handy himself. Then never ever ever let anyone that isn't me or maybe Ahira touch or see the thing, just the products. Also this time make something that can do first aid or something. I keep getting trashed. Even if I didn't do much on this trip the threat was there.

Maybe, ok We have the new material with its stabilizing rays. Maybe I could get some of that stuff and make a heal gun, or at least hold your shit together gun. No, Somefuck is going to confuse it for a regular gun and either heal someone they should be fighting or shoot someone they should be healing. Maybe one of those tricorder deelies from Star Trek. They were just for diagnostics but fuck it. Its a theme not a straitjacket. I could really start, and if I added some of the bio bits I could also make the body more receptive to that kind of healing. It would hurt like a fucker but not worse than having your bones crushed and your innards pulped then having a steel plate shoved in you so slight improvement? I am going to have to go show Ahira. Dang, I'm going to need a test subject and I really don't want to test this on my people and if I test it on my it might not be reversible. Fuck. Where do I test a healing ray and serum that is at all ethical? This sort of shit is what the PRT is for. Ah It doesn't matter. The world will recognise my genius! And I am sure I can get someone from outside to volunteer with the right incentive. Haha!! I am going to finally get to see how some of this works in the field!!! I will bring the fires of creation down from the mountain and give them to all mankind!!!! THok.

"Why'd you do that?"

"He was monologuing."

"He always does that, he's making notes"

"Not like that man, that was proper monologuing, you got to stop them before that sets in. otherwise it's all hordes of undead this and eternal vampire that, then boom! Time hole!"

"Let's take him to Nismal"

"Good plan"

Words 39480

No side effects, no side effects to Mad science at all.

Roll 20 - 40k words

Operator Dispenser (300CP)

An unlocked robot fabricator which can create one of 4 different types of "operators". Medical Operators heal the injured, Engineering Operators repair systems like your suit, Science Operators replenish your Psi and Military "Black Box" Operators come equipped with offensive lasers. Comes with 3 charges and will need 3 units of Synthetic, Mineral and Organic material to create a new charge.

Chapter 17: Chapter 16

Chapter Text

Chapter 16

POV Tabitha

Fuck I apparently have to do this since boss is out and giant girl is busy. Plus she hasn't been too happy about loverboy becoming interested in magic. Right now she's holed up in one of the shielded rooms in the depot making a micro wormhole generator or something to look at the state of the local warp. Ulath says she is trying to scrye the nature of the ein sof within this world egg and I have no idea what is up with that. It's ein sof, it's what you get before you get signal, it's like static on a CRT or a blue screen on a monitor. Well whatever bakes her muffins I guess. Personal note get more crt parts. The RobCo os likes that kind of display more and they are super duper cheap and no tinker will use em.

So I am dragged off by one of the guards because of a science emergency. When I get there we're at old Nismal's place. He's got two diviners 3 priests and a pair of guards situated around the boss's unconscious body with stands of magic, life force and some other things I'm not sure of.

"What are you doing? And why do you have our nominal Messiah trussed up in light bondage " Get it cause he was wrapped in coils of light!

"We're trying to save his soul." I think that's the most words I've heard Nismal string together in a sentence in my life.

"In a religious way or in a "he has a fractured Ka and this is going to go badly if we don't get some soulstone and tape" kind of way"?

"The latter I assure you." he starts a chant and then stops. "His body has a buildup of magic in his Caudate Nucleus. It happens a lot to casters with high talent, high processing power and very very little willpower. Usually it ends with plagues of undead or glowing craters where towns used to be. There are symptoms and he was showing them."

"How long have you been ..this!" I gesture to the room."

"He gives me a flat glare. THis is the last temple of a true god's final wonder made of a magical city forged of a thousand divine artifacts and you think there wouldn't be a single archmage left to manage it?" One of the prides of the Dunmer people is our ability to raise an eyebrow archly is greater than any race in Tamriel. He had perfected the form.

"Point, but if you're an archmage what do you need me for?" I was no longer the most accomplished magister in the room and I did not like it one bit.

"I've hit a snag. He has something constantly channeling Magicka back into his right arm and motor cortex every time I pull some out. I've tried to read it to speak to it but it keeps coming out nonsense." He shows me a loop of Magicka streaming from an existing hole in the Boss's skull that had healed over then reopened.

"Let me get my eyes on." I centered myself and went through the process of calling up very fine point divination. I could see the loops and I recognised the information being put through it. "Well you called the right girl. He's running his own fork of RobcOS through some artificial nerves to make… well several things happen. I can make it do a Magicka dump if you have someplace to put it so we don't cook his spinal column"

He hands me a thin crystal rod, like an alchemical stirring rod with a cut gem on the end. Inside is something I had never seen before or even surmised existed, Nome one had taken lesser soul crystals, removed the impurities and spun them into something like fiber optic cables then sheathed them in glass.

"I know what this is but how do you have it? WHY do you have it? Who makes something like this?"

"People who are already dead several millennia trying to find the true nature of the ineffable with lots of money, lots of skill and few scruples."

"You have here. I don't know what to call it, A Magicka shunt? What happens if we pull too much out?"

"His soul separates from his body and he wanders the world undead."

"Too little?"

"He begins to build up again faster this time and we have to perform this ritual again. We will eventually have to perhaps place it in permanently."

"Why do we have to do this at all then if it's just going to come back?"

"Because he has been learning magic and he has been strengthening his will, simply not fast enough. If we buy him time he could grow to fit his existing pool."

"So crash courses in magic? His Waifu is going to shit lizards."

"There is a reason she has been researching what she calls the warp here. She is trying to find a safe way for him to cast without drawing the attention of dark powers. I have told her our methods are not hers and we will be safe. She pointed out and rightly I might add that our world blew up so it can't be that safe, and we don't know what the rules are here anyway."

"I am not going to stab him in the brain if we don't have a good plan for afters, I'd rather let him just go full mad wizard and just try to reign him in."

"Thousands, perhaps millions would die"

"Fair point but they have the unfortunate quality of not being me. He learns, he learns magic faster than any human has learned our magic at his age, he needs to learn something else. He needs an outlet for all of this."

"Very well, you keep the chant. I will look in the rubble of the temples and see if we have any magics suited for humans. I warn you, it is better he bleed himself and learn our ways than learn theirs. Our spells are more powerful, more flexible and they do as we desire. Human magics instead do what they are told. I hear that as a programmer you understand the difference. "

"Yes, but he's much better at figuring out instructions than figuring out his desires so we're doing it my way. Plus we know the machine pieces will be running this Magicka through them. What happens if it develops desires? It's safer to give him the weak sauce for now. It's small but precise. I hear from Ahira he can do a lot with small but precise, if you give him time and good instruction. "

"He is too old to have the Magicka channels in his body recut too quickly or have them regrown naturally, and he has filled his hand/heart connection with so many magically reactive bits he is going to need a focus. We don't have any staves worthy of his majesty and power."

"Grab him a wand then, we have hundreds."

"No one uses those for anything other than detail work after the age of six? He would be horrifically insulted."

"Trust me, he likes details, and he'll be fine with a wand. Now get the human grimoires and let me do some forensic programming to see what he put in this fucker."

With that he left and I was once again supreme queen of magic in here. I had the disciples grab me a coffee, my microtool kit and a better chair. This was going to be a while.

POV Micah

I stood in my temple, working on my great work. A four armed golden god with bones of electro-degenerate matter, flesh of nano assemblers and blood of pure magic. "Soon everyone will be better. They will all learn, have the fires of science brought to them and be as gods. I will teach them and they will know what it is to be kings! This will show them, this will show them ALL!"

Tabitha is here beside me. Not who I expected would stand beside me as I approach my great triumph but a welcome face nonetheless. "Hello Tabby, come to witness my glory?"

"It's only fair, you witnessed mine." I was stunned a moment. I remembered her in a very unprofessional position. Wait, How did I get here? "Not the time for distractions Tabby. Hand me that hex key"

"Boss you are a very weird dude. Normally when folks go off the edge like this it's zombie hordes or lizard men with basilisk eyes or just great big fuckoff fire spells but your mind is obsessing on making super teachers? What even is it going to teach?"

"Everything! It will make all sapients into gods. It will teach mastery of the physical world and beyond. It will let us conquer matter and energy, body and soul, life and death. There will be no more want or need. Everyone will listen. Everyone will know."

"I will admit, boss, your grand evil plan is kinda tempting. Frankly I was considering letting you up and out with something as simple as I want to be an unstoppable undead lord of the night rule the globe and you letting me rule a continent. You'd explode but the ride would be epic. But now I feel bad. You might be worth keeping around. Fuck, you might even be the messaiah in a strictly literal non-religious kind of way. Plus Turil would never forgive me and I almost have him housetrained."

"What the hell are you talking about Tabby, this is my triumph!. Come and see!" I looked out beyond the temple, seeing ruined cities, burnt out husks of farms, the footprints of the endbringers. I knew I could help people be free.

"Boss, you're not being yourself. You're using up a lot of resources you don't have and you're going to burn out."

"It doesn't matter, I'll get better later and even if I die If I teach everyone it will be worth it. My name, my glory will be eternal. Father to races of gods, nations of titans!"

"You make a good pitch Boss but you're not going to get there."

"You would deny me?! MY Genius?!"

"NO! Boss, I am trying to help. Look Bo-- no Micah. Seriously no jokes, the burning out is not a metaphor. You triggered something in your brain that is making you push magicka through your system faster than it can handle and you have no method of release. Your body is trying to perform alchemical creation while you aren't paying attention just to bleed some of the creative energies."

"Fine! I will make bigger and better things. Grand alchemies, use every drop of my Magicka to fuel my great work."

"It doesn't work like that. You can only have it flow through your body but so fast and you've already had it intake energy for so long. The.. I don't know.. Magical r value of your frame will fuse. I was taught to think of this like water but I think you'll understand it better as electricity. You have a capacitor, right? "

I nod, putting down my tool to learn more about magic. There is always time to learn more, and always more to learn. I will be immortal and omniscient.

"Now you've been plugging that capacitor in to the mains of a building and charging it up, gulp gulp gulp. What happens if you overcharge."

"Depends on capacitor but capacitor explodes"

"Ok and the mains are still live, you can't turn off the generator or discharge it back. The only thing you have to discharge it into is some copper wire about as thick as a paperclip and about six feet long. What happens to the wire?"

"It burns fuses metals then maybe explodes and then the capacitor explodes."

"We're trying to attached some superconductors and a step transformer or two and some other capacitors."

"Sounds great! Do it!"

"We're going to, thing is we can't do it without your help and we super can't do it without you agreeing to stop whatever else you are doing and learn to express your Magicka safely, and we super duper can't do it on a live circuit with you pulling more in from the mains."

"That makes sense, halt the flow." I have the best henchmen ever, proactive, helpful and smart.

"It means you're going to have to turn off your senses for a while, turn off the metacognition, cycle down whatever it is you have spun up to help you see DNA at 50 paces and be able to perform self surgery. I can see you put in a special organ in your head to shut it off but you haven't chosen to use it and none of us can make you. You can put up a pretty good tamper proof seal if you want to."

"Of course. I built this new OS myself and I am a genius! Thank you Tabitha, both for teaching me more about magic and for finally calling me by my damned name. Although Boss is nice, I will admit." I look up at my unfinished goliath. An invulnerable archive of all things. Gentle, patient and utterly unstoppable. I throw the switch.

And I'm naked and levitating, surrounded by Dunmer.

"Ok, the fuck?"

"I mean not now Micah but I hear you've improved your technique." Tabby grins as some of the others glare at her while some giggle or blush.

"So all of that was real?"

"Real enough."

"So now wizard school?"

"More like wizard boot camp but with no combat spells" You're going to go into a clean room Ahira prepared with Ulath's whole team helping. You're going to make potions until we run out of ingredients, then read your grimoires, then cast til you can't feel your arm, then sleep and do it again. If you so much as botch a single spell, Ahira dunks you in holy oil, sets the room on fire, you go through detox and we don't cast that spell again until you have reviewed the tapes of what you did, figured out what you did wrong and can do it flawlessly.

This sounds deeply shitty and painful but honestly I can't stop grinning. I get to be a wizard! I try and calm myself down. Awkward boner while spinning naked in front of everyone is a bit much. Aso why hasn't anyone got me pants? "Hey, why hasn't anyone got me pants?"

"We took a vote, most voted nay."

"I thought this was a theocracy, get me some damned pants"

An acolyte brought me an under robe and put it on me. It was wrapped in a weird way so I wasn't exposing myself as I floated and spun. He handed me an outer robe of heavier material with dozens of strange paper seals on it in High Gothic.

"Plus I have a present for you to go with the robe." The grin on her face threatens to go from ear to ear. She pulls something from behind her back. It is a long, thin steel case, inside on a velvet cushion is a piece of rare wood that shines in the light. I pick it up and immediately I feel it connect with me on some fundamental level. The connection is flawed and strained. It's imperfect but it's mine and I am sure I can make it better with practice.

"One last thing. Anyone on a worksite needs a hardhat."

I had seen cowboy hard hats, and ten gallon hard hats, and cap hard hats, and ones to mimic a soldier's helmet. This was a standard hard hat but purple with stars and the zodiac signs of earth interspersed with the Throne and the signs of Tamriel. On top though, much like the cowboy hard hats had two peaks and a dip, this one came to a conical point.

I put on my robe and wizard hat.

Words 42160

-Schoolbooks (Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality) (200CP)

You gain a collection of all of your school materials for a seven year course at Hogwarts (assuming Defense Against the Dark Arts is taught by a competent professor assigning a high-quality set text for all seven years, so in reality probably a bit better in that regard), as well as Muggle school up through British Secondary School. Learning and teaching from these books is easier than normal, enough to almost make up for a lack of an instructor. Lost or gifted books are replaced via owl order within one week at no cost to you. Yes, even if there's no logical way for an owl to reach you with a full set of magical textbooks. If your starting age is above 11, you're assumed to have been learning at an appropriate pace from these books for however long you've been at Hogwarts, or should have been at Hogwarts in the case of a Drop-In. Post-Jump, anyone studying from a set of magic textbooks which they own gains the ability to use Atlantean Magic. Gifted and re-gifted books never lose the magic-granting ability, stolen books do not grant magic until returned to the rightful owner.

Chapter 18: Chapter 17

Chapter Text

Chapter 17

I expected a cool magical school like Roke Island or Unseen University. What I got was a mix of vocational school and boot camp. My basic problem was I have a high Magicka "voltage". The Magicka flowing in to me is higher amperage and higher voltage than the Magicka flowing out. My job is to increase my amperage out, without straining anything. This is basically impossible because increasing the amperage takes time, time I do not have, and my head will explode if I build up too much. So they've given me focus. Not made me concentrate on something, but more given me A focus. A wand. One made from Ebony (the magical glass they mine) wrapped in ebony (the apparently magically reactive wood). Dunmer foci are larger and tend to be made of a single homogeneous substance and used like a lever, to step up their "voltage" hence only children needing to use wands or adults using them for fiddly small work. Humans apparently insist that all wands be wrapped in wood or some other magical sort of semiconductor. Magic can pass through one way, but it will insulate the hand from backblast, causing the wood to explode and not the wizard. They also need a far more conductive "core" to help widen a human's "amperage'.

The amperage of Dunmer nerves and blood is several times that of humans, and although I apparently conduct magic better than most humans, I am about on par with some of the lowest Dunmer considered Magicka capable. This does mean I can cast their spells at all, but there is a huge problem, methodology.

Let's take potions. I was doing potions. I was doing four goddamn hours of motherfucking potions every goddamn day. This is why I didn't want to be a Chemical Engineer. Dunmer potions take a lot more out of me, but fail a lot more often. This is because the Dunmer method of say a healing potion is, add ingredients, add Magicka, feel out your intent, stir stir stir. Poof! Healing potion.

It will heal things an amount based on how focused your will, quality of ingredients, how much Magic is used plus some other weirdness like phase of the moon, but that is accounted for when you do your setup. If you have a broken leg, several cuts and a burn, drinking a minor healing potion will lower the break to a fracture, clear away part of the burn and vanish the minor cuts. If they have four broken limbs, one gets better. If you want the rest gone either drink another minor potion once the Magicka has run its course or get a better potion. This is very energy intensive and damn near impossible to wrap my head around. I have to focus on just the raw concept of "Being Healthier" but not in a way that they are becoming stronger, or faster, or more able to endure stress, or else the ingredients will react wrong and fizzle. You need different ingredients to make those happen. Don't get me started on the fact that a potion that increases the weight you can carry does not increase your strength in terms of punching or climbing or even picking the stuff up in the first place, and it isn't using a magical force field or other parahuman methods. You can just carry more, fuck you that's why. This process is frustrating, tiring, only uses Magicka when I succeed, but it definitely has broad results, uses a lot more Magicka when it does succeed and definitely makes me feel like I am doing capital M Magic and not parahuman bullshit.

Human magic is very, very different. You take your person with a busted leg, a burn and several cuts and want to heal them with a potion. The first thing you have to answer is how? Do you want their bones to knit and grow stronger? Do you want their body's existing natural healing mechanisms to work faster? Do you just want them to produce blood more efficiently, sturdy their soft tissues? There is a different potion for each of these. On the plus side, they aren't limited by the amount you are healed. If you break every bone in your body or just break your pinky a dose of skele-gro grows your skeleton until it is fixed. Skele-gro will do fuck all for the burn and cuts. There are skin healing potions, metabolism increasing potions, "Swelling solutions" to help with tissue growth or increase "soft tissue growth" for men and women. This suddenly explains why lady wizards in books when not depicted as aged crones are pictures with bombshell attributes. There are 36 pages of just cosmetics potions and "cosmeceuticals" or things that are used to treat medical situations but incidentally make many people prettier.

I can't tell if I learn the human magic faster due to my learning power, the magic books, or the magics themselves being formulated for my physiology and mindset. Either way I am zipping through this shit like no one's business, learning what according to the books are months worth of spells and skills in a day. I do know my learning/teaching power is a thing and is working because when I try to teach the human magic to Dunmer, even those who have tried to learn human magic before they learn more successfully and faster. I've set about scanning and copying the books, and the ones I copy are apparently more comprehensible and the words are retained longer. See this is the sort of parahuman bullshit I am used to. Measurable microchanges in the text making people more receptive not. "Wham, be better in some undefinable way."

We are spending four days on the road before our next destination, not because it is far, but because we have to detour south to catch armadillos. You see, different potions require different ingredients. Many of them require ingredients that contain their own Magicka. We have some of them left in dried or stored form, but we aren't going to use any until we start getting a greenhouse going and reinforced zoo, too valuable. Plus, sometimes with the magic ingredient the caster actually ends up gaining Magicka in the process of brewing, and we super don't want that.

Several potions of both the Dunmer and Humans use solely non-magical ingredients. They are also the most Magicka intensive and with a single exception tend to be the most fault tolerant. This is another difference between Dunmer and human brewing. If you fuck up Dunmer potions you have lost your ingredients, and you have a cauldron full of glop. If you fuck up human potions you may have invented a new potion, cause the effects to change in unpredictable ways, or just melt your cauldron through the floor. I am not working on human potions beyond the simplest and we already have a decon shower, a fume hood and eyepro.

The protective gear discussion led to a question of if potion making can be automated. The answer is, kind of. You can't just increase the amount of ingredients and expect it to still work like many chemical processes. You either have to re-work fucking everything or just have a lot of cauldrons in parallel. Also, it can't be completely automated, you have to have someone with Magicka that can use it at the controls of your station, and they have to be able to supply the juice for the whole lot at once. Needless to say this would be perfect for a stopgap for my problem but borderline terrible for my actual magical growth as it would be like having an exoskeleton move my muscles when running rather than actually running. So we are setting it up at a rate but it needs work.

So I mentioned boot camp. I have to get up at the ass crack of dawn to take advantage of solar essence. Have a specific Magicka neutral and vegan diet so nothing prepped in the warehouse. I am basically eating convenience store hummus and various nutrient supplements. Beats when I was living on muscle shakes, though. Calisthenics, four hours of potions. Lunch that must consist of the meat of an animal killed without cruelty and slain by hand. We visit a lot of halal and kosher butchers. One hour teaching others. Four hours of "free casting" while painted with holy oils and wrapped in sacred seals. Currently, my free cast is 2 more hours of potions, one of what Dunmer magic I can handle and one of "charms" with Ahira sometimes teaching me ways to propitiate the machine spirits. Dinner which must contain several potions to purge my body of toxins and straighten my Magicka paths. An hour of tinkering in which I have to have at least 2 spotters at least one of has to be capable of knowing the difference between me recording notes like this and monologuing. An hour of forced relaxation. This means I am not allowed to tinker, I am not allowed to cast, I am not allowed to make administrative plans. I can talk about projects and shoot the shit with people, but it is preferred that I take my mind off of it. I usually spend it catching up on books I'd meant to read, playing video games or occasionally "Pleasure Touching". I learned the term from Ahira and I dig it, and, while I am not allowed to tinker and cast I am allowed to play with my toys or fuck around with potions that have been determined stable. Then 8 hours of sleep, if I do not sleep I will be either dosed with a sleeping potion, drugged or beat about the head. Honestly, I usually fall asleep just fine after days like that. My previous constant bouts of insomnia managed by constantly driving myself to exhaustion. What few moments of restless nights exist are often quickly calmed simply by having someone warm to sleep next to.

The regimen is hell, the pacing is breakneck, my freedoms are gone and fuck it. I love it because at the end I am a motherfucking wizard. Now follows a list of potions I have a store of ingredients for. The ones in Italics I have successfully brewed.

Human magic potions

wiggenweld potion -makes you wake up and increases the body's natural healing, leaves scars, mildly addictive.

wits sharpening potion - Increases reaction time and sense processing speed. Makes you think faster and take in more information. Does not make you able to think deeper nor does it provide magical insight.

The Famous French Method for the Bite of a Mad Dog- is exactly what it sounds like. We tested it with a lab rat and a small rabid terrier. Turns out if applied correctly it will also cure the rabies in the terrier so, score!

Swelling solution - Cosmeceutical, topical, recreational. Great for regenerating soft tissues. Does cause temporary gigantism in the part(s) it is rubbed on. When the swelling goes down the soft tissue injuries are usually left in vastly improved shape, repeated use can cause permanent effects.

Burning Bitterroot Balm - a soothing cream for burns, rashes, and abrasions that does not use steroids or standard painkilling chemicals. Useful for those who are chemically sensitive to any of the above but not much of an improvement over standard mundane methods does contribute somewhat to nerve stipulation in numbed areas from pinched nerves, frost effects or other minor damage so we keep some around

Draught of Peace- super cheap mundane ingredients very very precise motions, if you fuck up may cause irreversable sleep, or a death like coma if brewed properly calms anxiety, removes fear, helps limit mental influence and a long term course can help permanently remove or mitigate phobias and other anxiety disorders. This would be great if I could be sure I can brew it right but it is listed in the books as the single finickiest potion a non-specialist wizard will ever have to produce in terms of timing, precise movements and prep. I am not even close to trying until I can make all of the others without fail.

Some notes on human potion making. I have been able to use my augmented reflexes to make sure my wand, timing and stirring motions are perfect to the micrometer. However this does not in any way help with ingredient prep. I'm working on a c machine with various replaceable blades of exotic materials and several other pieces of cooking or chemical prep machines to reduce the chance of failure making potions to as near zero as possible.

Dunmer potions, they do not give a fuck about precision. They have ingredient measurements like "a chunk" or stir "until you get bored" What they do require is incredibly fine focus of will and determination as well as great emotional control. Suffice to say I suck at them.

Lighningshield Ok except this one I can brew it in my sleep. I know exactly how to want not to get shocked.

Frost shield

Feather - helps you carry but doesn't make you stronger!?! There isn't even a kinetic effect on the load. Fuck this potion fuck it right in the ear.

Jump

Levitate

Slowfall

Silence apparently this and the lightning shield I make very well and not just for a human.

Intervention This teleports the drinker to a predetermined sacred point but it doesn't much matter it needs an entire ass temple to work and has to be in same plane so at best I use it to get from my casting area to the Dunmer temple but not back a little quicker. If we ever build a base though and when Silverseam gets going. That will be a thing. Otherwise it is a one way trip to Utah with no friends or car if I use it on earth. So, kinda useless except in a pinch.

Reflect ok may not deserve the italics. I made it once.

Detect key - I can apparently not only brew this potion in my sleep but just from studying the potion notes I could derive the spell. Something about principles of sympathy and my birth sign.

Fortify Personality- Kind of a cosmeceutical sort of reverse beer goggles. You drink it and suddenly you actually are more charming, witty and better looking. It does need more testing though. Is it more of a thinker effect that lets you know what to say, or more of a master effect that clouds the minds of others. Oh ho the fuck am I kidding it is almost certainly neither, works through no real mechanism and it just increases your "likability" or something. Have I mentioned I hate Dunmer alchemy?

Fortify Magicka I have not attempted this spell for obvious reasons.

Resist common disease can't get the materials now and will be expensive.

Resist Shock I am quite good at this

Resist Magicka less so but apparently my inherent distaste for being magicked at is actually helpful here. I can get the emotional oomph I need to not care how it is happening jus that it doesn't happen.

Restore Speed - Limited resources of some ingredients until greenhouse is made.

I have learned more human spells than I can count, but that is mostly because they have sixteen different spells for moving a small object telekinetically, several of which can be used interchangeably. Plus the wand motions again have been programmed into my hand-eye system. All I need to remember is the word and the will but I do practice the motions without activating the system just to make sure they are ingrained properly. Suffice to say that by the end of the week I would be competent to get at least a D for Diploma in Wizard school, hopefully with more practice this will improve. As far as spells go for Dunmer I can detect specific minerals. Shape small amounts of stone like clay and tase someone. I hear I would be able to throw a lightning bolt if I could just get over my insistence that lightning needs a medium to do that, but my touch ranged taser is pretty boss and I have managed to fire off a lightning bolt once. I have also learned something that Ahira insists is not a spell but is totally a spell. I can punch, kick, or hit a machine into working correctly. She says she will explain to me how the magic or Psyker powers of her world work only in theoretic detail, only once I have mastered my will, and even then only when she has finished whatever warp wormhole experiment she is trying. I will say the ritual does not expend Magicka, but I do chant, wave hands, things happen, so I think by actual technical definition it is not a spell.

So with all this how and why are we catching armadillos. Well as for why. Armadillo bile is an essential ingredient in several potions. Also armadillos carry bacteria that can transmit leprosy, so it is a good high test (on animals only) of our various science or magic based healing methods. As for how? During my megalomania I nearly finished my Mr Handy Maker. I gave them different arms and a profile like a jersey barrier, better sensors and vastly safer and reduced power needs through the installation ff small grav plates. I still didn't know what to call them, but I could dial in the designs, hit the button and it would spit out the new Mr. Handies (new name needed) specced for what I want. I set them to chase, and capture armadillos and bring them back unharmed. I eventually had to have one handle the chasing and one with a more sophisticated medical sensor to determine unharmed status before they 'learned' how to catch them right but soon I had a flock of the things hovering about scooping up various wildlife, mostly armadillos. The rest we used for food for my exacting lunch requirements or for test subjects.

That detour completed, I was informed we were in Washington DC. I stayed in the Van. Luckily no one wants federal heat. Not the villains, not the heroes, not even the PRT. SO we got through without incident, or so we thought. In passing by the beltway a familiar friend from Baltimore called in a favor. We headed to his farm.

Words: 45109

AN

The character sheet chapter had to happen eventually. I hope it was painless. At some point I will put all of his powers and rolls on one page if I haven't already but today is not that day.

New Power

Daisy Chain (100CP)

Interested in large scale alchemy? Well, between this and a core reactor, you'll have yourself a veritable alchemy workshop. Granted, in reality this just sets up a series of mini cauldrons which will automatically adopt specific arrangements to facilitate more complex, multi-tiered synthesis reactions but it'll boost your synthesis rates immensely, and ensure that easier recipes won't fail! Of course...you could have each cauldron act autonomously but really they work best in unison with every other unit. Due to the number of cauldrons created, a large part of the containment chamber is occupied by cauldrons as they move about and get down to business. Thankfully, you can still move about and organize the cauldrons though they're a fair bit more autonomous than before. Each cauldron seems to exhibit the same effects as your original cauldron, and it isn't out of the realm of possibility to add more cauldrons though it'll be a time consuming process.

Ok this fits super well he has to spend all his time making potions and tries to automate them and what does he get? this!

Chapter 19: Chapter 18

Chapter Text

POV Turil

It is another wonderful morning in, well whatever the hell this place is going to be called. There is significant argument about it. My personal favorite right now is Vanistan. It's a beautiful morning in Vanistan I wake up, throw off the covers and am immediately met by a shivering and angry Zenith.

"No, Cold!" They huddled closer to me for warmth. I kiss them on their forehead.

"Darling I have to work today and I have to be on an Earth day cycle. Now is it a girl day or a boy day I'll get your clothes." I hop out of bed, stretch and head towards the energy cell crates we have been using for furniture.

"Mhnna Depends, can you help me with the ritual of binding the titans?" They look down at themselves and then to me.

I grab their binder from their clothes box. "Sure but I can't take too long."

They, well he now, pouts and accepts the stretchy wrap. "Why not?"

"Trip off plane. Actually going to earth not just coms."

"Ooh what are you doing?Can I come? How long?" He is suddenly excited to hop out of bed and gives me a significantly more enthusiastic kiss. Then wraps himself and then turns his side to me so I can help with some of the fasteners.

"Can't say, apparently we have rules about operational security now. But I can say I am going to someplace called Charm City."

"Ooh bring back a charm, or at least something charming. I'll text you a list of groceries and art supplies that the rest of the circle needs." He begins tapping away at a cellphone.

"I joined the circle so I wouldn't have to be an ore haulier."

"You certainly haul Tabitha in her often enough." He sticks out his tongue and heads to the sink to wash up.

"What happened to Mr. Compersion. Mister "oh you look so cute together and it's so nice to see you actually reach out to someone for once, and she's so gooood for you" Huh?"

He splashes his face and starts rummaging around another clothes box. "That was before she drank all of our prosecco and left her panties soaking in our sink."

"Look, they got stained. I'll get you more prosecco and maybe some of that mild bitter you like." I finish getting dressed mostly but start packing a day bag with other clothes. It could be a long mission. "

"She got them stained. Undergarments do not stain themselves, they certainly don't end up in the sink by themselves, and the beer here is ditchwater, get me something I have to chew. Chuck me the packer." He gestures to the clothes box near me.

"I thought you didn't need this thing anymore since you made it to the second rank of illusion. " I dangled the packer in front of him.

"I don't, I want to wash it, in the washtub, like normal people and not make undergarment soup in the kitchen like some kind of filth beast." He grabs at the packer and I pull it away.

"I thought you liked it when I was a filth beast." I tease. He snatches it away before beating me about the head with the cloth packer.

"Give me that! Now shoo! You have a mission. Are you and Tabby going to want to be here this evening alone or?"

"No she's staying in the hot cot near the lab." I check my spells in the mirror by the door.

"Ok filthbeast or not, you are good for her. If I see her trying to bed down in the hot cot I'll drag her home for you. Maybe leave her gift wrapped with a little bow. "

"Feel free to unwrap her yourself" I check my potions, reagents, cellphone, charger.

"Ugh. I only deal with Tabby-cat on girl days. She is far too smug to deal with on days where it is socially unacceptable to smack her.

"I can see that" I do the rest of my checklist out loud "Gun, wallet, notepad, breath mints, spare burner, gift card, money belt, all correct!"

"Check to see if it's loaded."

"The gun or the gift card?"

"Both!"

"Yes daddy!" I get a soaked packer to the forehead for my trouble. "Ok ok I'm going."

" In bocca al lupo!" he shouts after me. I step out of the house, then out of the Door, out of the Van and into the World.

I breathe. Breath is an act of devotion; they will see me but will not see me; like the stones. They will hear me but not hear me; like the wind. My touch will be light as a feather and my scent caught by no hound. I drink of the people of this place and I let them flow through me.

I look down at my new self. My complexion is kind of a warm citrine. My pants haven't changed much, the denim jeans have changed in cut and style certainly. I do like the shoes. The t-shirt is a little baggier than I like. The print on it says Bmore Creative. I like it. I pass a horse by the trolley.

Every step is a mantra unto itself. Waiting waiting, should be by soon, one lane street with a slow light, street chalk mandala around myself. Focus focus amplify. Wait. There he is. Red light stopped. The street chalk sigils are a cloak of silence. Walk walk (silent) click, open car door, throw shut walk. The papers are where they need to be, where they must be. I have to step lively, the drivers of the other cars can't see me. Water bottle, splash, no more mandala, around the corner, no more me.

I look at the reflection of my new self in a car mirror. I'm a little thinner a little taller, bigger hair and darker skin. I walk, I mix with a crowd and I am someone else. I breathe the crowd I let the crowd know me. I ask for a shape that can shop without notice. My shirt is collared, sleeves still short, pants lighter, skin is too. I shop until my list is done, drop it off home, then stop to look out at the harbor. The burner rings. We meet at Little Havana a cuban restaurant on the harbor, a wonderful place to roast a pig.

Blah blah blah I'm a government officer, this is blackmail, you can't do this. I am super not listening. I just put this info packet in the back seat of your car while you were in it. You're lucky you're useful. I tell him the deal, he blusters back. I tell him the deal again. He sucks it up. The sandwiches here are great.

Basic deal, Acanthus gets a re-brand. Still makes tech for the PRT just no more brutebusters. He gets to make armor and medicine. The Acanthus identity moves to another town but the kid stays here. If he does any heroing it will be as an independent with a different name and won't use the same tricks. He'll even likely join the protectorate someday just not here and not with Carr. He gets to stay on his farm. Everyone keeps getting paid, and no one has to tell anyone's bosses or the press anything.

He doesn't want to have to fight with PR on rebranding but he wants to keep the tinkertech flowing and he wants to talk to Internal Affairs even less. He agrees. I leave but take an extra couple of sandwiches.

Of course I'm bugged. I head to a gym. I go to the locker room, shower, grab my wallet and phone, leave the burner and clothes, grab someone else's. My image flows and twists to fit the clothes perfectly. I leave them their wallet and phone tucked into their locker in a towel. I head out.

I expected a farm. This is not a farm, this is a green factory. Plants are in perfect rows, massive metal frames spray water over them as engines like juggernauts move through the fields. Inside are pink and purple lights over hundreds of glass tanks with all manner of plants growing out of them.

Inside there is at least something familiar, a kitchen. The stove is different, the sink is different but somehow it is still a kitchen. An older woman sits smiling and chatting with Him. The Messiah is here omg omg omg he is here and he is hot. The sacred texts said a lot of things. He will dave us, he will deliver us, he will care for us. They did not say he would be hot. Unf. I can see it on him. I can tell that he thinks I am cute but I wish he wasn't afraid of me! At least he sees my talents. Augh I am more than my skills dammit I want him to notice ME! I want him to look at me like a starving dog looks at a sandwich. I want him to look at me and thirst. Ooh speaking of which, his water bottle is on the table. I go to clean it up and take a swig on the way to the bin. Indirect kiss get!

I think I may have given myself away, he is staring now. Breathe. Meditate. I must be strong. Breath is an act of devotion. I am going home to Zenith. It is a boy day. We are both going to shape our images to look like the Messiah and just rail the shit out of each other. If Tabby comes by she can "Get on or Get out" like she is so fond of saying.

POV Micah

We were headed to DC, the Baltimore plant kid called us. He needed some shady shit done and I literally owed him my life. We're not quite square, I value my life quite highly, but we're damn close to even now.

Kid wanted out. Couldn't stand the capeshit with the wards anymore but only the wards job kept him out of the system. The farm was his gran's and she'd lost a great deal to time and injury. She hadn't been in any condition to run the place for a few years. The stress of running the whole thing solo or else have the whole place taken and be split up, her to a home and him into the system was what triggered him. Carr moved some papers around to make sure he could keep the place so long as he stayed a Ward and kept the tech coming in. He called us in to fix it.

It took a lot of fixing. First off we used a few healing potions on grandma. She was pretty much sharp as ever and healthy as a horse after that. That would be helpful if he ever got out of his contract but Carr wasn't going to let that go so we blackmailed him. Everything eventually fell at least mostly into place. Kid still has to hand over tech each week to the PRT but he gets to decide what he makes and doesn't have to do other ward stuff. Carr doesn't get shit from above for losing a tinker (and one who can heal to boot). Grandma gets the farm. Kid gets a moment to breathe.

Since we were there I showed him a few of the samples of plants we needed for potions. I didn't' tell him we needed them for potions, what they are, or what they do. I told him we got them off a raid on some biotinker on the West Coast. He looked at them and drooled. He tried to grab them and vanish into the lab. For all that we gave him his life back I think he liked this more. I didn't show up with anything we didn't have more samples of. I was not going to get mugged for my plants by this kid. We made a deal.

He'd get to fuck around with the plants. In exchange he'd buy and make for us a munch of hydroponics gear and other farm gear. Plus let us know how to care for the fucknig things. In exchange we give him the plants and give him at least the right to look at any other salvaged plant biotech we might find in these kind of raids. He knows about Blasto and knows we both work with him and run up against him a fair bit. I let him know I could only speak for me and mine and can't promise all the plants the Merchant's find. We do some more horse trading. Ok not literally, they do have working horses on the farm and one of them did keep eyeing me but whatever we and basically worked it all out. Kid's basically the best choice to leave the plants with. I trust his containment protocols more than the local PRT's anyway.

Kid has known we have the warehouse the whole time but still has no idea we have anything but the 80x80x10. This does put a limit on the amount of farm stuff we can cram in but he says he'll keep in touch. I believe him. If for no other reason than the potions cue current damage but don't heal chronic conditions so gran's likely going to need some more in a year or so. I feel kind of shitty about it so I make a promise and a note to myself (this is that note btw) to if I do get the capacity to actually cure her, actually cure her. I've seen enough drug company bullshit. I don't want to be that guy.

Words 47380

New Power

-Brass and Vacuum Tubes (Smash Up) (100CP)

You can make perfectly functional devices with a steampunk aesthetic. In fact, machines you build like this tend to work a little better, and stand up to far more abuse.

This was kind of already the case. His tech from fallout is more rugged than anything but his tech from subnautica. He has the weakness sensor always on so honestly I think this might just be a non benefit, which is fine.

Land of Confusion (FREE ) These are strange times. So many weird

things happening all at once. Fortunately, you know how to just roll with

whatever strangeness the world throws your way, whether magic-using

robots or pirate leprechauns.

Apparently all that meditation has been good for Micah's coping skills. Not sure if there will be any way to tell if he has this though. Very hard to keep track of lack of freak outs.

The Look (FREE all) A computer panel which can transform your

Warehouse and/or any properties you own, to look like the aesthetic of any

keyword in this document, any future keywords, any combination of two

keywords and any other themes you might have.

Ok now this matters. Sort of. He has color changing charms etc and is beginning to automate magic plus the aesthetics have no game effect so I think he might tinker this up on free time.

Saddle (FREE all) You or your companions after this may be able to become

a horse, or a dinosaur, or you may have riding bears. It would be

irresponsible not to provide a saddle that can resize to perfectly fit any

Mount.

Not that this matters but this will now be going on horse.

Chapter 20: Chapter 19

Chapter Text

POV Micah.

The Motor City is a whole lot greener than I expected. The crumbling factories and houses lost to gangs and economic ruin have been reclaimed by grasses and the occasional garden gone wild. Ivy covers most of the buildings and seems to be one of the only things kept neatly. On a technically urban street, 7 mile road, I see several young black men on horses led by a man whose jacket proclaims him to be Speed Miller of Miller's horse ranch and riding school. They are heading to a local bodega amid the cracked pavement, graffiti and in the shadow of several high rises. One of the horses sans rider walks up to me. I swear she looks like the one we saw in Yellowstone. She nuzzles my hand and I lead her back to the posse.

Intercontinental trade has brought some new life into Detroit's auto manufacturers but they had been moving away from the urban (read black) factories and into the suburban (white) factories for "business reasons" since the 70's even though it actually cost more to make the new buildings than upgrade the old ones. NEPA 3, 4 and to a lesser extent 5 have pretty much locked those factories in place since the 90's. 3 makes sure older buildings aren't used for environmental reasons, a pretty good idea. 4, makes sure local US industries aren't out-competed by foreign imports, supposedly because the imports don't follow the same environmental standards in their factories, so it's technically maybe a good idea, but mostly it's pork.

NEPA 5 is a backdoor clusterfuck to keep "Parahuman controlled industry" from causing unforeseen environmental complications and incidentally fucking over any cape that wants to make money instead of play cops and robbers. I used to think this was entirely bullshit but then my powers gave me several thousand tons of antimatter and I began to think some of these lawmakers may have had a point. I think they went too far in pushing other parahumans into villany but honestly. I can now see the point, even though it fucks me over personally. My big objection is using environmental policy to sneak economic policy in by the side, but whatever.

I mention all of this for the record because it seems like the primary reviewers of this log are Dunmer crafts folk that want answers as to why they can't sell magic items. Please mark down this timestamp in your notes.

Tl;Dr: Detroit proper is half skyscrapers and half crumbling mess rife with foliage and the rebirth of the urban farmer. The suburbs are doing great though, a ring of new prosperity over a crumbling, overgrown heart. Because racism and capitalism.

I got a call from Luis saying the team is supposed to meet up at someplace tucked away in the green cluster called The Black Sheep Baa and Grill. The grass is kept clean and clear by actual ovines grazing around the place. I hear the bass roar of a classic bike and like King David our contact's Triumph is heard throughout the land. A Bonneville modded to fuck and back rolls up to the deck with a pair of ladies dressed in slate grey motorcycle armor and sturdy helmets.

"What's up Mickey! How've you been? Where's your better half?" Devon is here! A welcome surprise for a contact. I don't recognize the dark skinned woman riding behind her and clinging to her like a second skin. My structural sensors though, go wild looking at her. Almost all of her weak points ate shifted into odd places, and the dreadlocks and goggles that cover her face are also covering some kind of structural anomaly in her eyes. I visibly jump back a bit when she gets off of the bike, and she gives me a stern look. I think she noticed me noticing.

"By both volume and effectiveness, I think she's my better 2/3rds. Ahira's across the street with a laser pointed at our meeting in case you weren't you, or we got jumped by the locals." I head up to Devon, and we wrap each other in a big hug before Ahira practically bolts over to the pair of us and sweeps us off of our feet, twirling around. There is a certain amount of intimacy you share with your first lab partner, especially when they're the ones that feed you and have to change your catheter. I didn't realize how much Ahira and I took her calm competence for granted until I had to try making things without her help.

After we are put down, Devon makes the introductions. "Guys this is Brade, like sandpaper not the hairstyle. You might know her in Brockton as Whirlygig."

Our new acquaintance offers her hand. "Imani, good to meet you, you're Micah, right? I'd rather you be Stash than Silverscreen on this run." I look towards Sammy with a raised eyebrow.

"She in charge here? No objections if she is, but if I have been learning important things about chain of command if things get all shooty." Sammy nods, but Devon clarifies.

"I'm basically in charge of all the wheeling and dealing we're doing, but Imani is in charge of keeping us safe. Everyone needs eyepro, thick, durable clothes and breathing masks and when she says put them on, put them on."

"Do we get to know anything else? Like why?" Sammy asks.

"Yes, but later, our next appointment is here." Several people in blue jeans and mechanic's jackets roll up to the bar. Two of them peel off from the larger group and join us at our table. The shorter one gestures to the bartender.

"Round of Bullshots for the tourists, rum and coke for me and Brendan, Brade you still take a dark and stormy?" She nods. "Dark and story for Brade. Been a while, kid. You back for a long minute or here and gone?"

"In town with the girlfriend, seeing a few sights." She puts an arm around Devon, who kisses her on the cheek. "I hear you have a tour lined up for us. Check out some of the local breweries, say hello to the old stomping grounds. If you need a hand with some cleaning, I'm here for it, but we got to be out of here in a day or three."

The taller man in the darker jacket, Brendan, speaks in a low bass rumble. "We have such sights to show you." Our host slaps him upside the back of the head.

"Pinhead. But yeah, good to see you. Let's grab some gyros for the road. The lamb here is fucking excellent, and you're going to want something in your stomach before going on a series of beer tours."

Conversations stop for a bit as we all have our drinks. The Bullshot is apparently alcoholic beef soup in a cocktail glass with some lime. It's a lot better than it sounds, but strikes me as more of a winter drink than something to have on a patio in July. The food shows up shortly after. Between drinks and gyros we are introduced as Stash, Melta and Smoke. The short, chatty one's name is Christian. The gyros are indeed excellent.

We head to a brewery in the area called the Foundry that was built into an old factory. Once inside, we see several large trailers full of cars. Sammy says what I'm thinking.

"What the hell is this? I've hidden liquor in cars to move it, but I don't think I've ever seen the reverse."

"Local cape issue. Head of the protectorate, name of Horizon can see through walls out to the horizon, has telescopic vision, and their base is on top of the largest skyscraper in the city. Problem is, she can't see through living things. The ivy outside helps somewhat, but if we really need things hid, the brewing tanks make for an opaque wall. Little yeastie beasties count as alive enough to fuck her up. You want something hid you need to be in the green zones and then your walls will start crumbling pretty soon, or you need to be shielded by something. We got a lot of hot cars here, need to go to chop shops. Chips and vins have been stripped, but we need more done."

Brade cracks her knuckles. "Masks on folks, the floor's got a drain, and you can flush it out right?"

"Yep"

"Good"

She pulls a plastic baggie out of her pocket. At first I think it's coke, but there is a lot of it and it is significantly sparklier. Turns out its sand. She empties the baggie into the air around her which swirls into a spiraling cyclone. Not a single bit of grit leaves her orbit, and nothing moves inward to land on her jacket or muss her hair. Everything is moving in tight counterclockwise circles as bits of breeze flow through the room from random points. She walks by the cars down one side and up the other, then moves her arms over the tops, the cyclone deforms surrounding her body in its new shape.

Several people then rush the cars with airbrushes and compressors. The cars gain a layer of temporary paint in seconds. Brade is handed a heating element with a handle. A sort of burning brand in a wire cage for safety. She walks up and down the cars again, drying them. Wax is applied, the process is repeated and all of the cars have completely different paint jobs in moments. I was led to the loading dock and asked to open the warehouse using its doors. I complied and several dozen shiny new cars are put in my storage. The door is vanished, and then we actually go on a short brewery tour. The beer isn't bad. When you're largely a money laundering operation and don't have to care much about sales, you do have the space to try a lot of unique and potentially costly ideas. It's a bit too hoppy for me, but Sammy likes it.

We go from brewery to brewery, occasionally stopping at garages, parking lots and hotels and letting a few cars out in each location as Brade and Devon gladhand people and catch up with old friends. As they do these favors they collect addresses from each person not only for the next destination but addresses and coordinates to other points in and around the city. All this takes a day, and at the end of it we stop at a brewpub and eat until we're stuffed. We get a truly stupid amount of take out for the folks in the warehouse.

Luckily, a mere 37 people are well within the number who could and would work in a warehouse of that size, so no one knows about the increased areas behind the walls. We have added computer labs, some small workshops, bedrooms, kitchens, bathrooms and rec rooms attached to the warehouse by doors and short hallways but since no one besides us ever went past those doors previously, even if folks knew about them, it still wouldn't give the game away. I do worry though and try to rush anyone who isn't part of our crew out of the warehouse as soon as possible. The decor of both the warehouse and its attendant "public" rooms has been vastly improved through use of various charms, transmutations and just plain effort, but more on that later.

They put us up in a decent hotel. We only get four rooms, so most people are staying in the warehouse, but we do have some fun and get to watch cable and have better internet access. The connections kludged through the van's radio, an additional spare pip boy, and several repeaters is not terribly fast, so people just set a whole lot of torrents to full throttle while we're there. The hotel has limits on data, but they don't last long given the talents of our various people. Self included for once!

I actually go to the spa and get a massage. And not a euphemism. It's really nice. I wouldn't have thought of doing it before, but Sammy and Todd had frequent hotel stay cards or something, and they offered. About a dozen of us enjoy the treatment overall. Nisimal basically camps out in the spa for the rest of our stay, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

The next morning, a moderately crap continental breakfast and leftover takeout give us the energy for the morning. Devon was given a half dozen key fobs the night before. Those along with her list of coordinates form the basis of our plans for today. We make a list of the locations and have Todd randomize them. Each of the places have an old factory overgrown with plants and locked up tight. We're in a borrowed car with the name of a local realtor on it. I'm wearing a faintly stupid looking blazer and showing the properties to Devon. All of this rigmarole may be entirely pointless, but better safe than sorry.

The fobs unlock the doors. We've been given free rein to loot the palace to the ground as part of a plan to "redevelop" the buildings. The cost of removing the built-in manufacturing machinery has rendered these places unsellable. Everything is too big to move through the doors without taking out a wall, and too old and built in to interest any local tinkers that may come through. Sherrel wants it all. We have fixer drones and a way to get the machines out of the buildings without going through the doors.

I look at some of the heavy machinery and drool a little. I want some of these things. The mass production of potions is nice, and the drone dispenser is cool, but I want some real manufacturing capacity since I can have the labor to man it. I pull Imani aside.

"Hey, I know Sherrel wants these machines, but she only asked for four and there are six. Can I take the other two?"

"Not for free you can't"

"I'm still kind of short on funds. Help me out?" I put on my best pleading face.

She thinks for a moment then smiles wickedly "I tell you what, I'm willing to trade favors. I need someone vanished."

"Like smuggled?"

"Like killed."

Devon suddenly interrupts. "Imani no."

"Come on Dev, they pay lip service to the whole no killing thing at best." This had the sound of an old argument.

"Look, he's family"

"You say look, I'm looking!" Imani takes off her goggles and brushes her hair out of her face. Empty, torn sockets where her eyes should be stare out. "He did this. I want him dead."

"He's family, besides that if anyone finds out it's much easier for them to come after you than for you to protect yourself. I don't want you hunted down by the likes of Hookwolf or god forbid sniped one day by Victor."

"That's another example. They have a sniper as one of their capes. That is not a weapon that has a stun setting. We've tried it your way, We've beaten him, we've gotten him arrested like four times. The cops, and the PRT, even when we find honest ones, they just get steamrolled when he's being transported. There are too many goddamn nazis." Imani begins tearing up from a mixture of pain and rage. Watching tears gather in empty eye sockets is not something I want to see.

"How about we get him put away somewhere else. That can be what Mike does."

"I'm listening"

"New Mexico, I thought about moving there, back before you triggered. There is only one hate group in the whole damned state, no nazis, and they mostly care about immigrants. We capture him again. Mike helps, then he drives him to the PRT in New Mexico. They have solid prisons, and he'll have no friends. If somehow Kaiser sends enough people across country to get him out, we push their shit in back home" She hugs her girlfriend and strokes her hair.

"Fuck it, fine. But if fucking Lukas gets free again, we're gutting him like a fish and wearing his skull as a hat." She hugs Devon back.

"Fair" They let go of each other and turn to me. Imani speaks.

"Ok, you're going to help us take out Stormtiger, and then you're going to transport him to fucking Albequerque and leave him gift wrapped on the PRT's doorstep.

"Cool, how the fuck am I supposed to do that. I can't fight my way out of a paper bag."

"We don't need you to fight. My power is a hard counter to his. We need you to find him when he is both in costume and mostly alone and get me to him. I'll take him out. We throw him in the Van and you drive. The old men don't need to know we're going nazi hunting, and Sherrel doesn't need to know about your extra assembly lines."

Devon intrudes "Speaking as her assistant Sherrel won't care that you have them. She'll be pissed that we didn't tell her that the spares were here for her to buy before you snapped them up, but that will be a bit of mild irritation with me, especially if you're willing to share or rent time to her."

Imani chimes in. "I don't think they'll care if there is one less super nazi around either, but they don't want us starting cape fights without permission. I need you to make sure we "coincidentally" run into him, so we can prevent it all fait accompli"

I mull it over a moment. "Fuck it. I'm in."

We shake on it. I head to the lab to start working on more sensor drones.

We can't really call our little flying robots Mr Handy's anymore, and we've been trying to figure out a decent name for the little buggers. Mostly the machine spits out a durable empty frame and then slots on a series of possible loadouts. We eventually settled on FriendlyFrames for the unfinished unit. And they can be turned into Fixit Buddies, Medi-Buddies, Sensor Buddies, Research Buddies, Guard Buddies and Murder Buddies. The Murder buddy was the alpha attempt at the guard buddy, but they were too much weapon and not enough armor. Plus, the onboard melta pistol and flamer were terrible at the kind of precision shots one wants to make when guarding valuable or fragile things. I switch the production line from Guard buddies to Sensor Buddies and a few Medi-buddies. The Fixit Buddy production line is still going full tilt. Between them, me and some of the up and coming Dunmer crafters we have three dedicated FriendFrame dispensers instead of our previous one.

The third one is dedicated to experimental drones. Our first one that has had some success is the Magi-buddy. Right now it is basically identical to a fixit buddy but with some sensor buddy parts except that it has a Magicka capacitor in it and a wand element arm. So far the only thing it can reliably cast is the color changing charm since it has no will or desires or anything, but it can accept a Magicka charge and then dump that charge into an existing Magicka receptacle. They can mix potions perfectly every time though so long as I can make them perfectly several times, so still not trying to make the draught of peace, but they can follow the process perfectly they just need a Magicka charge to seep into the portion at a regular rate, hence the capacitors. I charge them and they steadily discharge. It is wasteful as fuck but right now and for the next month or so that's a feature, not a bug. We haven't got anything that can hold the charge long or change the discharge rate, but we can mass produce potions. The little fellas fly up to me and if I am not busy they nudge me, I charge them, they fly off to the potion factory.

The other thing they do is take info from CAD/CAM programs and do some redecorating. The color change charm along with the fixit ability to add moulding or put up fixtures. Everyone has been having a blast with some design programs and customizing their spaces. Plus, the color change charm is instantaneous and can be changed later. We eventually figure out that what it is doing is micro abrading or micro repairing the surface it wishes to change so that the reflected light is of the new preferred color. It's pretty fascinating, but it also means the charm doesn't take on some harder materials and wears off on anything organic or that regenerates. Coloring things without dyes or paints is pretty cool, though.

They also have a lot of the old mining tunnels, tracks and elevators working again, so some of our rock jocks have taken FriendlyFrames and started to design one for mining. This is what I want, other people I have taught, knowing how these things work, and customizing and shaping them in a million little ways. This is what giving knowledge to the people feels like, and it feels good.

Words 50903

New Powers

-Titan Engineering (Titanfall) (100CP)

Titans are incredibly complex machines, and due to the disposable nature of their use and production, and not designed for easy repair. You've got the deft touch though, and know exactly where to tweak and shore up the structure to keep it purring like it's fresh out of the drop pod for years.

Oi! [Free]

The funny thing about accents is how divisive they are on the frontier. The IMC troops- who come from

the Core Systems, all speak with a very distinct British accent. Meanwhile, the Militia have strong

American accents, and strangely, any ex-IMC defectors seem to lose the accent in a matter of weeks.

Now, you have the ability to alter your own accent, which seems to spread like wildfire to anyone that

follows you, so it becomes an identifier of your faction.

This is an outgrowth of him internalizing telepathic translations and practicing incantations.

Titan Chassis [200cp] (One Free All) Buying a Titan chassis does not give you a single Titan. It instead gives

you the plans to construct Titans,

The frame he rolled is:

Medium – The first Titan ever developed and tested in combat, the Atlas' design methodology has

survived the ages, being built around a balance of armor and speed. With two dashes to use, medium

chassis can nevertheless take more of a beating, and have modern day descendants in the Tone and Ion

Titans.

Chapter 21: Chapter 20

Chapter Text

Chapter 20

POV Micah

I spent Day 3 of our trip mentally, physically, and magically exhausted. Sherrel wanted certain machines and installations from the factories. I thought I would butter her up by taking the whole production line, and the concrete and brick structures they were attached to. Many of these devices were impossible to reasonably disassemble, and many were sunk into the structure of the buildings themselves. I and a fleet of Fixits with micrometer tin melta torches simply cut the whole thing into labeled regular cubes and hauled it all inside.

"But Micah," I hear you say. "Wouldn't' that ruin the machines and what about that is exhausting?" Here is the hard bit. I had the Fixits hold the pieces in place in the arrangement they were in when they were disassembled, and just cast Reparo after Reparo. It's a useful spell and I wanted to eventually learn it silent and wandless. For that, I cast until my arm near fell off. That explains the magical and a fair chunk of the physical. The mental exhaustion was from the roller coaster of joy and exasperation.

Over the past few days through seminars and books and other means we had worked out some pretty cool ways of making things. We could only make things about the size of a chair this way, but we were working on it. The method goes something like this. The crafter either makes an illusion or transfigures something into the shape of the device they want. A Sensor Buddy scans it into a CAD/CAM system with several interesting little plugins we've cobbled together. The crafter then clicks and labels the materials all the parts should be made of and makes any alterations they want. The altered design is then dropped into something running RobOS and its fucking incredible physics modeling system. Ahira helped spruce it up, and we usually do the heavy lifting computationally on a modified research buddy. The design gets fucked about a bit more. If it holds up, the design is saved to a public database, then sent to Fixits to assemble from materials in the various material storage areas.

Once it is built it is real world tested and then the design is flagged if it doesn't do what it is supposed to and a note is made for the physics simulator that something did or did not act as expected. With this, we are slowly adding magical material interactions to our physics engine. Some optimistic souls think they have put together a working design for a disposable modular mech. So far it has made it through virtual testing.

Pretty much everyone has a blast with the new toy. Our real bottlenecks are now materials gathering from the mine or purchasing in the case of cloth or wood. There is a minor bottleneck in the illusion or transfiguration stations, as not everyone can really imagine the thing they want well enough to be scanned well, but that usually just means more time fiddling about with the CAD model. People can now have at their own rate basically anything non-edible or chemical they want in time if it is smaller than a meter cube. Chemical complexity is still a hurdle; we're actually faster at making magically complex fluids than mundane ones. A fleet of Sensor Buddies are deployed on full time picking up clutter and putting it away in the owner's quarters duty. Something that is helpful is each object has a small mark indicating who made the design (a list if there were multiple contributors) and who ordered it crafted (so we know whose it is) and its material cost. This is in microdot, so the robots can read it, or we can read it with a scanner, but it doesn't ruin the lines of the object.

This is the source of my joy. My exasperation has another familiar source. I gather Sam and Ulath to my lab.

"Ok guys, Ulath you're the leader of these folks and Sam you understand people a lot better than me. So far in the past 72 hours I have found 17 different couples, thrupes, and others just screwing like bunnies in various nooks, crannies, labs and mine tunnels when they should have been working. What gives?"

Ulath blinks slowly and Sammy looks shocked.

"You mean that wasn't your plan? I think somewhere some signals got crossed." Ulath says.

"My plan? How could this be my plan?"

Sammy pipes in "Dude, all you do is eat, sleep, tinker, study, screw, and do crimes. Sometimes you skip the first two. Most of the people on board aren't cleared for the last one and sometimes the workshops are full, the magic rooms are usually full, we only have 2, and you're constantly using one, and people just get tired of crafting. Plus, some of them at least watch TV or are learning to play video games."

"Ok, fine, so I am a bad role model, but that doesn't mean this is part of some kind of plan. Ulath, you have to see that."

Ulath raises an eyebrow with an archness refined over decades. "Everyone except myself and Nisimal is a fit healthy person between the ages of 18 and 24, have absolutely no actual formal oversight or parental figures, and are almost constantly in life-threatening situations."

I try to object and fail.

"Plus, their human peer group they are in contact with are all Merchants, and we're the party gang." Sam chimes in.

"Then there is the fact that you systematically got rid of everyone underaged and then threw out anyone who was a potential parental authority figure." Ulath crossed his arms and started tapping his foot.

"I just wanted parents to be with their children rather than gallivanting around being criminals."

"Yes, but that means the ones that are of the age where people calm down and let their hormones take a back seat to their ambitions would all be elsewhere."

"Well, fuck, we're going to need more money."

It's Sammy's turn to look shocked. "Dude, we have an anything maker, why do we need money?"

"Cleaning supplies and air fresheners, it smells like a fucking dorm in here, but without the undertone of burnt microwave popcorn. Plus, we need washing machines and dryers."

"I can look up the plans for some and have someone print them out. You're right on the cleaning supplies, though. We should also probably task a bunch of research buddies on laundry duties."

"Why research buddies?"

"They have the best chem sensors"

"Fair, by the way Sam, do you have anyone special?"

"Dude, I am a professional transporter. I kind of have to do the relationship anarchy thing since Todd is my co-pilot. I have no idea what town I will be in when. I can't even have a partner in every port due to scheduling conflicts. This run with you has been the longest I have been able to spend in a single community seeing the same people in years. I've kind of gotten out of the habit of looking for anything more than hook-ups, and I never hook up with anyone while on the job. We haven't really had enough downtime for me to have the time. "

"Fuck."

Ulath smiles a bit, "Apparently not"

"Yeah man, I am hoping Uncle Joe lets me keep being your driver since you bring a whole-ass town with you when we roll out."

"Ok, well this got a little too real for me. I am going to follow Nisimal's suggestion and go and meditate a while. Either of you, let me know if you figure out a way to keep folks screwing in assigned areas only."

Ulath looks put upon. "I tried putting cameras up in public areas, or at least making it clear the existing ones were there. It mostly just changed who was doing it. So we ended up reconfiguring the camera locations."

I shrugged and left the room. Yes, it was my lab and my office. I was the one that left anyway.

I entered the spellcasting room wrapped in its sacred bindings with the emergency shower of holy oil. I sat in a comfortable position and tried to reach the state of meditation. I have been told I need to connect with something beyond my Magicka, beyond the energy that responds to my will, and instead reach that part of myself connected to a higher power. I hadn't really felt that sort of connection since I was little and still had faith in authorities and believed in heroes. Now I had better than faith. I had evidence that I am connected to a power at least larger than myself, if not greater.

The key in my forehead is almost certainly non-sapient, the planet my Tower sign came from has been paradoxes out of existence. If the planet from which a constellation is viewed vanishes, but the stars are still there, does that arrangement of stars lose its magical identity? Do the stars even know they are part of a constellation? I have it on good authority that from elsewhere in the galaxy, Sol is part of a constellation called The Throne. Does that mean, in addition to whatever star sign we have, anyone on Earth has the magical aspect of whoever was born under the constellation on other magical planets?

I know inside me is the ability to manifest this key. It is at least as much a part of me as my neural interface. I repeat the mantras learned from the Mechanichus. The parts I have woven into my flesh are my flesh. I am my implements, and my implements are an extension of my truest self. I am the sum of my actions and by using a lever my actions can move the heavens. From inside here, I can't open the warehouse door. I am in the warehouse, but I can call forth the key. I can feel it. I have used it to open boxes, locks, doors, even some computer passwords, but oddly not all of them. It will work on access passwords, but not decryption passwords. I have learned that language is its own thing, and it too can be shaped and known. My tongue has been tied in a hundred knots, pronouncing eldritch syllables and pseudo latin. I am my words, my words are my will, my will is myself. My will is the lever with which I will move the heavens.

I will call forth my element and this time it will work. I am connected to the world, and the world is connected to me in ways more intense and subtle than any Magicka. I will bring forth the nature of earth and steel, I will feel the mountain seep into my bo..What? I feel a wetness on my forehead, could my true element be water? There it is again, and it is warm and slightly viscous. I open my eyes. There is a horse. I scream. The horse screams. The guards scream and come rushing in. The room is doused in holy oil, then cleansing water and warm air. We are all baffled but calm.

"Guard Buddy 26, what is this?"

"It appears to be a horse, sir."

"Indeed, Why is it here?"

"We thought you brought it in, sir. It came in a little while after the door to the chamber unlocked and opened from the inside."

"Ok, well, I did unlock the door. How did it get here?"

"It walked sir." At this point, I am pretty sure my robot guards are taking the piss.

"26 play back the security footage surrounding the chamber in reverse."

I watch his display show a horse walk up to the door, wait patiently, open when it becomes unlocked. Looking back further, I see it came up the hallway, got in the hallway by waiting in the warehouse until someone else opened the door carrying boxes and just followed them. It entered the warehouse standing on one of the concrete slabs the Fixits were bringing in. and entered the main site through a hole in the factory wall. In looking up any horse related footage, I realised I had seen the horse earlier by the Baa and grill, then again on the Grandma's farm. It had been wandering around Gallup and I had seen it during my technicolor yawn in Yosemite. Before that we didn't really have camera footage, so who knows how long I had been stalked by this horse.

"Ok, horse, what, what do you want?" The horse linked at me and licked me again. I have manifested my element, and my element is a horse.

Several hours pass as I try holy oil, finite incantum, Magicka scanning, several sensor buddies and consulting the ancient archives. I put it through physical tests, mental tests and map its DNA and entire biology. All I know is it obeys my command as well as a smart horse can, and it shows up when I call. I have no idea how to deal with this. I head to Nisimal.

"Wise elder, I have done the meditations you asked for and have invoked an element. It went, oddly."

Nisimal pulls on his pipe and turns down America's Got Talent.

"Go on."

"My element is a horse."

"You mean the earth has given you the strengths of a horse?"

"No."

"Is it, like, a magic horse that the wind becomes that can take you riding on the breeze?"

"No."

"Does it –"

"Let me stop you right there. No, it doesn't have any special powers. It's not particularly smarter than a regular horse, I can't communicate with it telepathically, and I can't summon it out of thin air. It's just a horse."

"What makes you believe it's your element, then. How is having a regular horse an element?"

"Look behind you."

"Why, whaholyshitit'sahorse."

"See?"

"When did it get here? How did it get here?"

"Haven't a clue. She just shows up whenever I need a horse."

"What do you need a horse for right now?"

"Explaining the situation to you, mostly."

I show him the security footage of how it managed to get to the rec room behind him. I am somewhat curious myself. As it turns out, it left the meditation chamber, got on a load lifter bringing mats to the item printer. Went down the ore elevator, wandered through some tunnels, and came in here through the parts of the old temple complex that hadn't been sealed yet. Funny thing is I have never been in those tunnels, nor would I know how to guide someone through it. He then goes through the same analysis spells that I went through and several dozen besides. After an exhaustive search in the older Dunmer archives he finds some mention of a horse doing things like this. Apparently such a horse at one point attached itself to a dragonborn who slew and also did not slay the time dragon. We both surmise that the horse inherited some of the retrocontinuity from either its master or the fight where the world ended. Why it bonded to me is still a mystery but at least there is something that passes for a reason. Also I have a horse.

I spend the rest of the day before we have to leave getting riding lessons from Speed Miller. He informs me that the horse is a Clyde/Shire mix and very, very even tempered and well-trained. I print myself a custom saddle from the object maker, and reprogram my neural interface to sync with a pair of riding gloves. I do let a bit of creeping featurism overtake me looking through our object library and add a few features here and there to the gloves, but mostly they keep me from pulling to hard or too softly and give me feedback, so I know what the horse is telling me. I still have to name it. Even though he is a chestnut stallion with white socks and the coloration doesn't fit I name him Ghost.

Words 53594

-Micromanipulators (A Certain Scientific Railgun) (50CP)

These delicate gloves were meant for scientific purposes. They're reinforced with small motors and electrically contracting artificial muscles to allow you to perform delicate work on the scale of a micron. While they're definitely more suited to scientific experiments, they can be put to use in any situation that requires steady hands like aiming a rifle, conducting brain surgery, cooking, defusing a bomb, or even bypassing some redirection and shielding abilities.

Micron scale control

Author's note: dialogue from https/prokopetz./post/181268188007/prokopetz-my-super-power-is-a-horse-you

Used with permission.

Additional note: (also from prokopetz)

As far as anyone can prove, the horse always gets there on its own, by perfectly mundane – albeit frequently unlikely – means. Granted, that doesn't rule out the possibility that the horse was indeed conjured, and the evidence of its arrival fabricated, but, well, when your competing explanations are "he's a godlike reality bender who uses her powers exclusively to retroactively insert one particular horse into incongruous situations" and "he has a horse with freakishly good timing", most people opt for the second one!

Chapter 22: Chapter 21

Chapter Text

Chapter 21

Well, I'm back in Brockton, and just in time for paperwork. At least if I actually want to get the classes I need to graduate. I would try to be here a month later and stay on the road a bit more but the fall catalog comes out today, and the available seats are few so I am there at the registrar bright and early, in person, on the day.

I nod to my fellow unwilling early risers, our hands each with our personal choices of caffeinated beverage. Today, I have chosen a kind of tea whose leaves are used in something called the pepper up potion as a side ingredient. We don't have the bicorn horn or any real way to get them to make the full potion, but for a little pick me up without the crash afterwards of espresso. I'm for it. It tastes kind of like thin bloody mary mix.

When I finish all of my sign-ups. I let Ahira allow the online classes to start registering the classes after I am already approved. I am a supervillain now. I should get some kind of perks. I do have to talk to my advisor before leaving though since this will hopefully be my last semester. Apparently I have to go to something called the steel ring ceremony, and since I didn't do it before, I have to mentor another student for a semester for either mechanical engineering or Parahuman studies. I choose Parahuman studies since I don't want to deal with freshman engineers. Apparently my mentee, Crystal, will meet me once a week before semester start when she's on campus for freshman orientation week, and then I am supposed to meet with her weekly for the rest of her first semester. As inconvenient as this is, I do want to try out my teaching powers on mundane topics and the program really did help me when I was a frosh, so I agree. I see her schedule, and it turns out she is also taking optics, and classes on radio crystallography. Huh, crystals for Crystal and a fellow STEM nerd in Parahuman studies. Mostly we just get Psych and Soc students and the occasional star struck rando. To avoid stalking we are given each others' school emails for contact, and we negotiate where and how we meet. There have been issues at the school before.

Checklist:

Breakfast - Check

Class registry - Check

Meeting with advisor - Check

Kidnap Stormtiger - Looks like I have something to do with my afternoon.

Sensor Buddy 14 POV

Initializing recording. Sensor Buddy 14 synced to main system. Beginning tactical recording of in field combat for later analysis.

Location:Industrial district warehouse Corner of 29th St and Rittenhouse Ave Underground pit fights.

Time: 3 am, post fights,

Targets: audience has left, principal target with 2 parahuman allies, 6 guards and 2 unarmed unaugmented humans. They appear to be socializing and counting the night's income.

Tactical suggestion: Shock and Awe Dynamic Entry

Augmented Human Devon using LAV "Hedgehog" enters through exterior wall

Combat immediately splits into 4 theaters. FIles are tracked separately.

Theater 1:

Anti riot measures from Hedgehog deployed on unaugmented humans successful. Targeted "beanbag" rounds deployed and remove subjects designated "goons". Analysis and observation indicates an overhaul on anti-riot measures as 4 of the 12 main barrels were clogged by bean bag ruptures. More than of beanbag rounds missed or ripped in flight. This problem was overcome through volume of fire but deployment on groups larger than 10 is of questionable utility. Initial simulations indicate sturdier rounds would cause permanent injury, lower velocity would render them dodgeable by unaugmented humans. Switch to beam weapons suggested.

Theater 2:

Combatant Melta deployed against secondary target Cricket

High frequency scanners indicate Cricket is producing complex sounds in addition to her disorienting and nauseating antipersonnel blasts. Sounds are presumed to be of utility both for timing of attacks and improved morale. This unit and Melta appear to be the only ones capable of perceiving this signal and producing same. This unit has been instructed to stay silent. Melta has chosen to engage in the Cape tactic of Tactical Banter as "talking is not a free action" and the ability for both of them to speak without moving muscles or splitting attention allows for a diversity of psychological tactics.

Audio signal has been both pitch shifted and slowed down for archive and analysis purposes. Unshifted audio available in supplementary audio track.

Cricket "sings: Die Schlümpfe - Klipp Klapp (Shut Up)

Melta:That's a very poppy song to be singing in a fight.

Melta attempts an overhand strike with baton, misses due to acrobatic parahuman talent from Cricket.

Cricket then pauses for stops a moment

"You can hear me"

Melta pushes her advantage, locks up one of Cricket's kama against a pole

"And talk to you without moving my lips too. We could take this show on the road and be dog whistle ventriloquists together."

Cricket swings her other kama at Melta's head, forcing her to release arm.

"*Snort* No, how about I instead cut your throat, and we can have matching necklaces."

Cricket performs a double lunge for Melta's throat.

Melta jumps backwards, draws a second baton.

"Kama? Awfully asian of you."

Cricket attempts to prevent her retreat with a leg sweep.

Melta tries to kick her knee as she extends her leg, she is too slow.

Cricket catches Melta's calf with a sickle

"Ok first of all these are sickles"

Melta twitches her leg out of the sickle's hold and disengages again and loses ground. In doing so she loses a baton

"It is my current understanding that the sickle is a preferred soviet symbol. Further, it is my understanding that Germany and Russia weren't friends during the whole nazi thing."

Melta draws a low powered laser pistol and begins a barrage of fire.

Cricket dodges with previously unseen speed and flexibility. Parahuman powers file updated.

"These are not commie sickles, these are German war sickles as described by Paulus Hector Mair in his complete manual of combat volume 1 section G, and they're on theme." She then strikes a pose from one of the diagrams in that same book (researched later, see attached document)

Cricket dives inside of Melta's shooting range, hooks her weapon into the gun barrel and flings it.

"On what theme?"

Melta steps back, pulls second gun. She is beginning to run out of warehouse to fall back to. Cricket advances.

"Destroying crops, ruining harvests, you know, crickets."

Melta looks confused and fires her new gun, it melts one of the sickles.

"Shouldn't you be locust, then? Crickets are omnivores."

"Locust was taken by a guy in nebraska"

Cricket draws a flick knife, Melta looks sympathetic.

"Sucks"

"I know"

Cricket stabs at Melta's extended arm.

"How about Cicada?"

Melta catches knife between her thumb and forefinger, snaps it

"Also taken."

Cricket moves in closer inside effective gun range, tries to cut Melta's face. Takes out a shoulder pad.

"Still doesn't explain the metal catcher's mask."

She ducks low and shoulder rams Cricket.

"I already got my throat cut and I spar with Hookwolf. I don't want to get any more holes in my face than I already have. "

Cricket rolls off of Melta's shoulder, drops down to let her pass over and strikes at her leg, cuts her shin but then gets sickle snapped by a foot stomp.

"Fair. So why are you even doing this?"

Cricket steps back and breathes, both combatants are currently unarmed and bruised.

"I've known these guys since I was 12. We came up through the streets and were pit fighters together. I'm not getting rid of that. Plus, the subhuman lesser races need to get the hell out of our city."

"Lesser races? I've checked, there aren't any nonhuman races on this planet in significant number. Wait, this is an idiom. Researching… Oh, that's what a Nazi is. Yeah, no fuck that.

Melta lunges toward Cricket and swings with a haymaker

"That why you were willing to get rid of Devon. Wasn't she one of your friends and fellow fighters too?"

Cricket takes advantage of Melta's unskilled brawling, ducks and gut punches her.

"Hey, she left us. Is that's what this is about?"

"oof, Yep."

Melta hits the ground.

Cricket straddles Melta's torso and repeatedly punches her in the face.

"I told Lukas he should have killed the n* bitch."

Cricket briefly flicks her eyes to look at the Whirligig/Stormtiger fight.

"Fuck is that her with the tornado? She with the merchants now?

Melta takes advantage of the brief distraction and clocks Cricket upside the head with a bit of debris.

"I'd say no, unwritten rules after all, but you unmask her and she unmasks you."

Cricket picks up the dropped sickle as she rolls and holds it down at Melta's throat before she can get up.

"Not that his hasn't been fun, but I'm going to need you to give up now and tell your friends to as well."

"Sorry, not sorry. I'm a delaying tactic."

Melta runs current through her body and shocks Cricket into unconsciousness.

Theater 3

Micah's combat:

Micah shoots his gravity gun at Hookwolf. Hookwolf is pinned to the ceiling. Hookwolf swears a lot tells goons to get him, the goons are knocked out as per theater 1.

Tactical analysis shows that even though this altercation was short, it ties up a main fighter in ways that are unacceptable as well as exposing them to enemy fire. In future, all gravity weapons or any weapon that requires continuous focus on a target should be fired by unmanned devices or from inside an armored vehicle. Furthermore, grav weapons, while themselves safe for use on soft targets, can cause possibly fatal injuries when combined with environmental hazards.

Theater 4

There is a brief moment of recognition on Stormtiger's face when Whirlygig takes a ready stance. Photo logs indicate her body type, her hairstyle and face have changed significantly since her trigger event due largely to lifestyle changes and injury treatment.

Stormtiger leaps and slashes at Whirlygig.

Whirlygig dissolves Stormtiger's claws and hits him with a bat.

Stormtiger floats away and flings projectiles gathered from nearby debris as well as ranged wind attacks.

Whirlygig's wind aura pulls the shots in, whips them around her like a gravity slingshot and flings them back. Stormtiker is forced to dodge but still gets winged by some of the rocks. She leaps towards him and the column of air used to hover is shut down and added to her aura.

Stormtiger leaps inside of herbat range punches he is a very fit man and a pit fighter.

Whirlygig pulls out her bag of sand and tears away at his skin. He steps back out of range badly abraded.

Devon screams from inside the LAV

"NO, he'll die, no killing. You promised."

Stormtiger looks up "Dev-"

Whirlygig tases him

Devon leaves the vehicle.

This unit is informed that combat is over but to keep recording for later briefing.

POV Micah

I look at Devon as she runs to her brother. Imani, already prepared feeds Stormtiger a potion and then another. His skin heals almost immediately. Devon looks relieved.

"What was that?"

"Something called the Drought of Living Death should keep him calm until we need him up."

"Can we get the others?" Devon Looks at me.

I check my stores and then message the folks in the warehouse.

"We've had to handmake these since we don't have too many of the special reagents needed to make the cure and it's a sonofabitch to mix. We have maybe a dozen, but this is the right thing to use them for."

Whirlygig goes around and doses Cricket and looks up at Hookwolf.

"Hey, Stash, let him down to drink this?"

I see him up there still angry and trying to throw bits of the ceiling only for them to get buoyed up by the gravity waves and occasionally smack him

"I don't think he will, but hold him up there a mo" I hand her the gravity gun and show her where to hold. Hookwolf dips down a few feet but gets stuck back to the ceiling in a different place so we don't' accidentally send him into LEO if he somehow breaks the roof.

"I have a ranged knockout effect" I use my auto aim, a bolt of red energy, a stunner comes from my wand. It hits precisely. It does jack shit except make his eyelids droop for a second. 26 tries later I successfully stun Hookwolf. I am lucky the spell takes 3/10ths of a second to cast even with time to loosen up my wand arm. Fun magic fact, I have gotten my speed down to 1/10th of a second per syllable of magic incantation. I can say it faster maybe, but then the pronunciation won't be perfect. All this training though has given me great elocution.

The Sensor Bot monitoring what we know of E88 communications tells us the rest of the e88 is on its way. I am immediately grateful that their only flier is apparently 8 months pregnant or stunned by us, so we have a little while to clean up.

"Let's get out of here"

Imani doses Hookwolf and points to the downed minions. Shit I am starting to think of actual human beings as minions. Wait, they're Nazi's i can dehumanize them all I want. "You said you don't have enough potions"

"Ok.. I'll stun them and drag them into the warehouse, we'll ask the bosses what to do about them later."

By I will carry them, I mean Sensor bot and a couple of guard buddies handle them. We load up into the Hedgehog that Devon uses as her personal ride and head out. Adam told me to call if I had questions. I have questions. I call him, he swears a lot in British. I am apparently a numpty. He has me meet him at a safehouse with the rest of the team.

When we come in I see him with a mix of abject terror and overwhelming rage for a second before the mask of the affable party host slips over him again. Ahira, Imani, Devon, and I enter the living room.

"Imani, Devon, you've been in this game for a couple of years, so you know exactly why what you did was unforgivably stupid. Kid, Wonder Girl, come with me to my dressing room. I am going to need an extra set of hands or two to help me while I explain some shit to you both and we see what happens next.

Words 56,038

-Legendary Craftsman (Modded Fallout) (200CP)

Remember all those unique prototype weapons with crazy awesome effects? The Legendary items in Fallout 4? The games have had their fair share of 'better than normal' items, and you know just how to make them. You have the ability to substantially improve whatever items you work on, needing at most enough components to build a second copy of the item in question. Whether it's dumping half your power cell into each shot a la Pew-Pew, making every bullet fired by your Minigun into an explosive round, or crafting armor that boosts your stats with no regard for how or why it works, you've got it all. Never again will you need to worry about being unable to find that Two-Shot or Instigating Gauss Rifle! You'll even be able to (slightly) fudge where those unique effects could be found, like making Power Armor with special effects or a Gatling Laser that does fire explosive rounds. Beams. Whatever.

Incidentally comes with another pip boy and another set of bobbleheads but since he already has been printing several of the pip boys for his people and many of the dunmer have taken to printing all kinds of random bullshit he probably won't notice. The plans to modify and improve the various gear using the RobcOS simulator will bear more fruit than expected though.

Chapter 23: Chapter 22

Chapter Text

Chapter 22

Adam's POV

Ok. I am breathing. I will not murder this child in front of me. We all do dumb shit in college and capes do dumb shit on the regular. I will calmly and coolly explain why their decisions need to be adjusted and what steps to take in the future. Here we go.

"Kid, first off that was dangerous and stupid." Not the best start, and I am rewarded with hung heads and sad looks.

"Why did you even get out of the car? You do not belong in a cape fight." He looks up at this and raises his hand like he's in class. I nod.

"A-Actually I now have a biology that I think could take anything Hookwolf can dish out." Bio-tinkers? In my crew, this is going to be a whole new breed of vaginal centipede.

"The fuck?!"

He shuffles his feet like a naughty schoolboy. "Yeah I know I mentioned this when I called you from Gallup and I know for sure Ahira told Sherrel like a half dozen times that I had a progressive piece of biotech reinforcing my flesh with a lattice doped with EDM equivalents."

I calmly put on my makeup, add some ashen grey to my elbows and cheeks. Make myself look older. I'm pushing 40 now, but I need to look worn.

"You're made of music?"

"Electrodense matter" Ok, I had heard of this stuff. Sherry wanted some for a kind of super armor. It's a tinkertech thing made of neutron stars and unicorn farts.

"Kid, you're electro-dense. How come you aren't sinking through the goddamn floor?" He better not be using his gravity guns just to walk, that shit has a way of going south on you really fast. Like accidentally shattering a friend's head, fast. Although his girlfriend is pretty damn sturdy, I don't want him shaking someone's hand and crushing it.

"Most of the mass is elsewhere. And I'm only using a gram of it just spread out with some careful engineering" Ok a gram of neutron star stuff 1 ml is a ton so like a billionth of a ml? God only knows how the fuk its absorbing shock then.

"You know what, fuck it. Powers are bullshit." I put on my undersuit, the familiar purple glow makes me feel safe. Nothing short Alexandria is getting through this thing, especially once I ass a coat. "Wonder Girl, zip me up."

"It's not a power. I'm a thinker, not a tinker. It's a device and a gene treatment. I can make one for whoever. " Can't be too heavily armored. As is my face is kept open, the lining of my do-rag only covers so much.

"You know what, fuck it. If you live through the year I'll take it."

His face actually stops being so sullen and he brightens up. "So yeah I am sturdier than the tank so I thought I could handle it."

Time to put a stop to this shit. "There's only a gram of it. With that gram added to your prodigious," I poke his chest, "muscles, are you heavier than the tank?"

He is back to the schoolboy head droop, but this time with added petulance. "No."

"Are you less prone to sonic mind fuckery than the tank."

"No." He frowns and even does that scuffing the floor with his feet. Damn.

"Then you still should have been in the goddamn tank." He looks like he might be about to break down and shout. Time to ease up. "But I get it. I do. Do you know how stupid it was anyway?" Now the shouting, just play out the line a bit, give him some slack.

"NO! You just admitted I couldn't get hurt."

"It's not just about you, you absolute berk! It's about Me! It's about the rest of the Merchants! Ain't we been good to you so far?" I gesture to him to keep him off balance. " Wig?" He hands me the artistically distressed wig.

He looks like he's thinking about it. I am banking on his last few months being more positive reinforcement than he's had since he was maybe twelve. "Ok yeah fair." He's gone from mad to confused which means he's thinking and if I am lucky listening. " What did I do to them?"

"Motherfucker you're going to bring down the Empire on us all."

"We can take them!" He's enthusiastic, but less sure than when he was mad. Time to drop some science.

"No we fucking can't, the Kaiser and capes are a joke, but how the fuck do you think they keep gangs of publicly known nazis around? They have the cops, they have the fucking businesses. They have the only real employer in this town. They own Medhall or close enough."

"What?" Engaging brain now.

"You never thought to ask how the fuck the Merchants get our drugs? You're a transporter and a tinker, you should be thinking bout where people get their mats. You live and die by your supply chain."

"Biggest industry in town is medical tourism and med research. Fuck, it's why I came all the way here from merry old England. Got hired straight out of Cambridge to help a research department at Medhall. Thing is, British census and college forms don't list race. I get there, and they have something I never seen before or since. A goddamn building full of doctors, every one of them white. No Asians, no Indians, and to show they're really serious about it, no Jews. " Imagining a collection of over a hundred doctors this close to NYC without any of the chosen people blows his mind.

"Ok yeah that's statistically impossible."

"I managed to stay on for a year before I got fired. Massachusetts has some damn fine LGBT discrimination laws, but it's a no-fault fire state and fire me they did. just paid out some of my contract and threw me out. I tried getting a job for the next damn year to pay rent. But the only thing I ended up being able to do for rent was this." Shock and awe. I take out my shiny pearly whites and show the 8 or so cracked nubs I have as teeth. I keep them this way as a reminder. Plus, having swappable choppers can help with things like not getting caught on bite analyses.

"This ain't all cause of meth from the gay clubs." I gesture to my missing front rows, "This is 'cause a cop decided I'd give better head with fewer teeth. I triggered. Cop died. I'm fucked." I let out a pained sigh as I slip on my scraggletooth set. Never let it be said Cambridge does nothing for one's education. Although I will say my semesters in the footlights have served me better than my classes.

"You don't need to know anything about the rest, but they have the largest group of capes, the cops, the industry, and the hospitals all sewn up. "

He looks ghost pale as he thinks about the magnitude of the problem for the first time. I bet he has childhood dreams of punching nazis and freeing the people, and I may have just shat all over them. "If they have all this, how the fuck you stay in business? I have been doing the books for a year. Prescription fraud and abuse is the highest market for drugs by far, and they can get them with zero overhead. How are the Merchants running the drug trade?" Little peek at Mount Tai is appearing.

"Cause The Merchants are a joke, just a bunch of bums, partiers, and a black man shuckin and jiving. It's what the kayfabe is for." I gesture for a pot of greenish goo, and he hands it to me I rabbit on my teeth and Ahira hands me some ragged outerwear. Its tatters conceal a pocket here, a lead weight there. There is a glimmer of recognition and shock.

"Holy Skid your Shitmark" Ok I break character and let out a quick bark of laughter. I stop before I fully corpse up. "I mean you're Skidmark I mean oh shit."

"Yeah and I'm the 'leader' of the Merchants the way Marquis was the 'leader' of the Marche and Colonel Sanders is the leader of KFC. It might be kind of true or have been true briefly at some point. Yeah, we're real people, but we're the act to keep anyone from taking shit seriously. A genteel lord, a southern colonel, a harmless homeless man. How the fuck you stay looking homeless running a million dollar drug gang? Fuck, I do not know why this act keeps working. The way we sell more drugs than a drug company is talent, skill and marketing. I ain't the only out of work doctor. I ain't the only one came here for a job and got fucked instead.

"Our shit is better quality than their shit they have the doctors, but we have the pharmacists. They have the labs, we have the workers. They have a reputation for killing people, we have a reputation for pissing on our own shoes. Which one you want to buy pot from in a dark alley? Racist murder junkie or a quiet harmless dude you can probably take.

"E88 has the most capes, the most soldiers, the most money. We have the best supply lines, the best communications and the best logistics. But that only lasts as long as we're playing the soft power game. When hard power comes out, we're dead. They can shoot us, and we'll go to jail for it. Now the E88 doesn't have the most capes anymore. That dubious honor is now with the local PRT or the New Wave and the New wave have shown willingness to break into your house, drag you out of your bed in the night, and wish your kids away to the cornfield. Now that Purity is preggers that's got to have her shitting her pants. Someone hits you like this you have to hit back.

"Only group with more hard power than E88 is Lung, who has the least soft power. He can't get much going in the city proper, most of his connections are out of city or out of the country, and he keeps folks in line with violence instead of ideology.

"So the way it goes is like this. E88 stays ahead of Lung because even if they all ganged up on him, they'd lose, they can project enough hard power at enough different points that Lung can't afford to commit. He doesn't kill our asses because we ain't worth it. They got to at least commit enough capes to stomping on us that they leave themselves open. Now, I'm not saying this isn't a long run good thing. Fuck those nazi shits. We need them gone, but we really need to have prepared for this. Hired out of town talent or something. Because E88 has to fucking take out someone, or they get eaten by Lung. More than that the PRT and New Wave been wanting to get rid of at least one group and now they can. New Wave is going to go hard on the nazis, but Protectorate runs shit by the numbers, and by the numbers the only group they have a strong advantage over in both hard and soft power is us. They take in the nazis, they're gonna accidentally grab some fine upstanding citizens too and their kids. They take us out, there's fuck all we can do about it. We stay alive because attacking us is more costly than sitting on their asses and posturing. Ass sitting is free. As soon as not attacking us has costs, the math gets different."

"What about Coil?"

"What about him? Coil is a scavenger and an opportunist. If you fuck up, Coil is there to twist the knife and take a cut. If you succeed he is there to slice up the other guy, but he just exacerbates whatever is happening. He doesn't do shit. If the motherfucker had one single person he trusted or anyone who would go to bat for him without having to be bribed or threatened dude might be a problem but that ain't happening. Every knife he has cuts all the way down to the pommel.

"Shit if someone took 20 minutes and some Xanax we'd have a real threat, or like 5 minutes and a blunt if he is the chill stoner type and not the twitchy paranoid type when he's high but you just know he's the latter." I take off my invisible pharmacist hat.

"And I fucked that up." He grumbles.

"Yeah, PRT can just blast on through us without the cops giving a shit. We're gonna lose a lot of friends. "

"Ok yeah I fucked up." He sits heavily in the makeup chair next to me looks like he's gonna cry or scream or just break.

"I understand. I been there myself. You know what this is?" I show him my plastic cap gun in hot magenta. Negative green if you're nasty.

"I assume it's not a cap gun." He does look intrigued, and his eyes do a weird shimmer thing.

"Nah. My power makes things go faster as a function of their current velocity, and it can be layered. I been priming this with my power for years. By my math, it should be able to launch anything so fast and hard it ignites going through the atmosphere. I considered making something that could launch shit a significant fraction of C, but I figured having that kind of shit around wouldn't be healthy. This could bring down their brutes… once. Once people know I have it, it's worse than useless, it's a target on my head. I get it, I do, power cries out to be used. You just got to use it smart kid. Now it's almost time for curtain" We all walk back out to main room. I make an entrance.

"Ok taint-lickers, how you fixin this?"

Inari raises a hand "We don't have to let them know we did it?" This is an interesting development.

"Oh? How the fuck you take them all out without no one seeing shit." I am getting into character, I take a shot of whiskey, then a hot lemon drink. Devon pipes up.

"They noticed, but the only actual witnesses are unconscious in the van. We wondered what we should do with them." Opsec? From my people? Without telling them to? Fuck!

"Fuck! So what we have here is a mothafuckin narrative! An unknown rolls in to town, takes out three capes, vanishes." I am almost excited, but reality butts in. " They look hard enough, they're still gonna find us. But if they don't lose face, they might not start shit."

Wonder Girl for the first time this evening pipes up. "We could let 2 of them go with their minds scrambled." Ok, she has a mind scrambler, I'm gonna put a pin in that. Devon shoots her down for me but at least we're all thinking.

"Not just no, but fuck no. They come down harder on masters than they do actual criminals. Imani's plan was to turn them in in New Mexico."

"That could work. No nazis. Fuck, we need a hero."

"I'm holdin out for a hero til the end of the nii iight, what?" Micah looks around the room. "You were all thinking it" I think the stress has gotten to lil' Mikey, but he's calming down.

"We need someone to be a hero and turn these fuckers in to Albequerque. We can make a false local identity from the southwest, have him on a cancer vacation to Brockton. We can use one of them names from the Panacea lotto that died already and just change the rest of his record. We got the list. Then dipshit has to run around fighting crime in Albequerque for a few weeks. Make like he triggered while on vacation in Brockton. Story becomes poor cowboy came here for healing, triggered, in a fight. He rounds up the nazis. Tragically, his invulnerability won't save him. He still has cancer, dies at the end of the month. X rays won't penetrate that skin of yours right? No one can call us out on this?

"I don't think they can, no." Ahira chimes in

"I checked, they can't."

I rub my hands together. This could actually be fun. "Great then you're Brockton's newest brute and soon to be the defender of Albuquerque. You'd heard about what a revolving door Brockton is, and you know Hookwolf has several birdcage orders. So you decided to take them home. You don't want to let your identity be known, you just want to help people until your time is up.

"Now we got to call you something. Fuckit, now you're Stalwart, if it's taken, let the local PRT rename you. Now let your girlfriend surgery you up some new features and get the fuck out now. Put a lump of something in there too in case they decide to put you back on Panacea's queue because of your great contributions.

"I got to go be seen somewhere else so I can't have taken part in this. Any questions?"

"Not so much a question, but It's July 22. I need to be back full time by Aug 23 and have to meet with Crystal Aug 16 to keep my identity."

"Then fucking hop to it. Y'all weren't due back here til late August anyway. Get your show on the road." I give the kid and his girl each a slap on the ass and a shove towards the door.

He seems shocked and not about the slap. "Wait, the whole team is coming?"

"Pssht! Like I trust your bitch-ass alone anymore. One goddamn day without Sam and you start this shit. None of the rest of the team is doing capeshit though. They're moral support. You handle this yourself. Pickup a couple burners on your way out. I know you depend on that wrist thing, so you'll have to make one that looks like a goddamn normal phone. Shit. You learned about making an entrance now I got to get your ass taught about blending in." I shake my head. " You're traveling without these two, though. They should know better, and they have shit to do. You're taking a plane in 3 hours. Todd and Sammy meet you there. By that I mean they're getting in the warehouse with a sedan we have on tap and not the Renault. You done lost your awesome car privileges for a bit. This one still has a cloak, tho. Now my ride is here so fuck off and pick up your peeps. You two with me." I gesture for Whirlygig and Devon to follow me. She learns some of the powers the kid has been handing out, though we're going to need a name for her too.

We get in the tank and roll out. I hop inside and kiss Sherrel lightly on the cheek.

"Perfect timing."

She smiles and winks, "Most important thing in comedy"

She drives swiftly but cautiously, avoiding places where she might disturb traffic or cause unwanted collateral damage. Please note, I said unwanted. The occasional picket fence or mailbox were taken out as an asshole tax on the folks in some gated communities. Then we drive into the lobby of an auto dealership I know is being used by the ABB to move people. Plus, the showrooms of these places are always monitored, polished clean, and surrounded by glass windows on all sides. Sherrel leans in to kiss me for luck.

"Later hon, you'll smudge my makeup and you don't want green shit all over your face." We make air kisses to each other.

"Merde!"

"In bocca al lupo darling"

She slams us in through the glass wall. We're on the other side of town from the fight. I pull myself out of the hatch and make a bright streak under a 4x4. It goes slamming into and through a sports car. Whirlygig jumps out and does her best Shatterbird impression, destroying the office decor.

"Alright cockmonglers, rip this place apart til we find the safe." We begin to do just that, flinging cars, car parts, furniture and so on around. Normally, an auto dealer's safe is not going to give you much. Almost no one buys a car with cash. But if the place is carrying a bit more than spare tires in the trunks, they have to leave a fair amount of liquid capital on scene.

We find the safe in the assistant manager's office, We open it through the expedient method of having Squealer drive the tank out of the building then in through the exterior wall the safe is built into. She cracks into the thing with a welding torch. We get a fair amount of money (slightly singed), a shit ton of luxury car parts, and most importantly while we're doing this shit Devon has moved the counters and stamps back on the cameras by about 10 minutes. We have alibis. Also, this place has incredible lighting. We're going to need to hit here or someplace with the same floor plan sometime again.

Assault, Battery and Velocity show up like clockwork. This shouldn't be too bad, Ethan knows what's up and how to work a shoot. It ain't quite like the ring. Motherfuckers are actually trying to arrest you, but you can take a second or so to pose or grandstand without getting clocked during a monologue.

Velocity is usually a bitch to deal with, but Whirlygig has long since dropped the shards of spinning glass and instead has a tornado of office papers obscuring the scene. He doesn't notice that we have the perennial favorite wacky car gadget, the oil slick button. I gave Sherry so much shit for putting it in there. Guess I owe her a dollar. I drop an accelerator trail at an angle to slam him into Assault. Not just because it takes two fighters out of the fight, but because no one wants Velocity breaking his neck.

Battery breaches Gig's wall of paper and shocks her before covering her in foam.

"Sucks to suck," I grab my crotch. "Bye bye bitches!" Squealer hits the gas and the tires squeal and we're out. Anyone who could pursue at a reasonable pace is left behind, and the heroes get their win.

"Adam, should we have really let them take her."

"Hon, her alibi is even better if she was in PRT custody around the time when she should have been across town. Plus, she wastes my time, I waste hers. Since we didn't get away with anything that officially existed in that place, I think we can probably lawyer her charges down to vandalism. We did it at 3 am so there isn't any endangerment of civilians. Either she spends a couple months in time out in a regular facility, or we get her out. Nothing here cageable."

"Letting her sit in prison over some nazi fuck. Come on, you're losing the plot, hon. We don't fuck our own without consent and a safeword." She's right and I hate she's right. I start enabling this bullshit and pushing for the status quo and I'm no better, than the damn PRT. I text Imani, I know she has a braille interface on her phone.

U want rescue b4 booking or after.

B4 plz. Had plans 2nite.

U R on Grease trap cleanup for a month and you're paying a pain in my ass tax for all of this.

U cn keep my cut of the Detroit run and I'll work guard duty on the next 2 parties.

B gr8ful 2 Sqlr.

Yes sir!

"Ok fuck, call Mush tell him to intercept the PRT paddywagon we're turning this around. How are we doing this?"

"I have a cunning plan."

"I should have never shown you Blackadder. You know when he says that it always fucks up, right?"

"Shhh trust me."

It's been less than a minute since we left, and both of the boys in spandex are covered in oil. I must say I do like the plan so far, apparently so does Battery. Squealer rolls down the window and puts out a weird square package on a stick. She swings at Battery who predictably dodges, but she pulls a spring and a pair of airbags, coated in flypaper pop open from the package.

"The really hard part is making it so the backing comes off smoothly during expansion, so it doesn't get tangled in itself. We were prototyping a safety system for cargo, so it doesn't break or get taken after a crash." I note appreciatively, Battery is slammed into a pair of sexy oiled men and the lot of them are covered in steel woven tear resistant cloth and glue. On the plus side, the oil will make the glue easier to remove. So no permanent damage even to hair since they mostly wear helmets. On the minus side. this is all on tape and is definitely ending up on PHO. I still have no way of melting Con foam without serious time and effort, so Squealer just breaks the floor around her and we take the whole thing. It means we have to drop the car parts, so now the heroes do have a legit win even if they look stupid doing so, nothing (officially) was stolen. Hopefully our new super tinkers can figure out some foam-b-gone or something soon.

"See, now she and her girlfriend have to spend several hours getting that rancid bullcrap out of her hair instead of whatever celebration they planned. That should at least do something to pay the pita tax." I grumple, take a pull from my flask, gargle and spit out the window. Already I have alcohol wipes taking off my makeup and Devon is helping with my outer layers. Squealer does a donut on the way out, and then we hit the cloak and ride home.

"Sorry I ever doubted you."

"Does this mean I can play with those lovely blue canisters with the fun black and red triangles when we get home?" She looks up at me with puppy dog eyes.

"Not just no, but fuck no. Kid brought you a whole box of other exotics, you're not taking that out of the warehouse so it can stay his problem." She does the pouty lip thing and now that my breath is freshened, and my face is clear, I kiss it. We hug a bit, then head to the garage to drop off Devon and Imani. I explain to Sammy that they are taking those damned canisters back into the bullshit dimension or wherever that warehouse goes, and they are getting in there with them.

We go home, I flop down. I read that Earth Aleph is filming a new series of Red Dwarf, so I pop on season two (the best season) and settle in. Sherrel takes off her wig and lifts and snuggles in to me. I prop up my head and ask, "I'm going to head home to Jeff after about three episodes. You going to be ok here alone?"

"Yep. If I'm not I'll call Ted, or if he's busy I'll come to Jeff's place and find you."

"Ok I'll leave a light on." I text Jeff to come pick me up. It has been a long ass day and I deserve to be a pillow princess tonight.

Words 60,506

-Magical Ore (Everyone Else is a Returnee) (100CP)

What is a smith without some metal to work with? Equipment plays a large part in this world, and a craftsman can only do so much without good materials. Luckily you happen to have a large storage box filled with lumps of unrefined ores of many varieties. The rarity and valuability of these ores range from normal iron all the way to precious ores of heaven, with the quantity of the ores being inversely proportional to their value. As you travel to future jumps, this box will update to include for the various ores you encounter. I hope you have some way of refining and forging them. Each month, the box will refill.

-Alchemist (Overlord - The Series) (200CP)

You are capable of brewing potions with magical effects. You can easily create 'true' healing potions that provide instantaneous healing rather than healing-over-time, and can make potions for any 'buffing' spells you know that are in the ranked magic system such as flight, invisibility, increased magic resistance, physical boosts, and so on. Obviously you must actually know a spell in order to make a potion with that spells effect. Additionally to make use of this talent you must actually have the means to make the potions in the first place such as an alchemist's lab or, for slimes, your own body.

Free - Generalist - You are the generalist, the person with an answer for every situation (if not a good one) and a skill for every occasion. You tend to be a queen-of-all-trades type rather than a jack, so while you aren't quite the match of an ace you aren't that far behind them. You favor wit, agility, and versatility, able to easily fit into just about any niche and at the high end your sheer breadth of skill will provide you with no end of options. While you won't be as focused as a warrior in combat, or a magic caster in magic, you'll find that you tend to make up for that in being much stronger than them in other areas that they are generally weak in.

Personal Inventory- You have gained a personal inventory. It is nebulously large, enough to store several tens of thousands of pound at least, and while you couldn't store a house in it (or living beings) you could easily store plenty of suits of alternate equipment, weapons, potions, piles of coins, food, and other such things. Taking things out of your inventory requires reaching into it, which will make it appear as if you are reaching your hand into a dark hole in mid-air.

Golden Coin Pouch - You've got access to a money pouch filled with a 'respectable' amount of gold coins. Respectable by the standards of a max level Yggdrasil Player at least. This amount of gold is enough to beggar the imagination of commoners and even landed nobility will consider it a ruinously large sum, easily into the tens of thousands. If you're a Player it's minted with YGGDRASIL iconography and is probably what you had in your inventory when you arrived in the New World, they're sure to attract attention if you use them. If you're a local it's in local denominations, and god knows how you came across it.

One notable fact regarding these coins, and indeed Yggdrasil Gold Coins in general, is that they can substitute for many types of incidental materials or reagents when it comes to creating magical items or artifacts. For example as long as you have a scroll to work with the gold could substitute for inks to allow you to make a magic scroll, or special oils or unguents in a bit of clockwork, and so on and so forth. Hell, you can even use the stuff to garnish food and drink at no risk to the consumer. Basically, so long as you've got the "main" pieces for making something you can substitute in some Yggdrasil Gold for any of the incidental bits required in the process

Chapter 24: Chapter 23

Chapter Text

Chapter 23

Micah's POV

My time in Brocton Bay is not as long as I expected. I have to be on a plane in six hours, then it's an 8 hour flight. In that time I need a new face, new shell for my Pip Boy, wardrobe, and some special tea. I send out a call to bring everyone to the seminar room, since it's large enough to hold everyone and already set up. I make my prep and down the drink.

"Okeedoke folks, we're heading out of here in six hours. Anyone who wants to grab anything, do it as soon as this meeting is over. Ahira I am going to need you to do some serious surgery on me. Feran you're the best with human potions. We're going to need those to heal me, since the Dunmer stuff might just heal away the surgery. Tabby, I need you to get one of the Pip Boys and re-shell it for me and synch it to my implants while I am under. I'm also going to need your team to set up a repeater by the door, since I am likely going to be keeping it open in my pocket. You'll need all the help you can get to get signal. Sammy I am going to just need you to talk to me and tell me about growing up in New Mexico. We're about the same age so I will need mannerisms and to get the accent just right. Questions? Comments?"

Ulath raises his hand and then speaks. "Yeah, where is all this coming from."

"Orders from Adam"

"No I know that, all of" He waves his hand gesturing to all of me "This. You're being decisive, planning and focused, and you're leading people. Drink something special today?"

"Got it in one. We're in a hurry so I drank a potion of Int, Wisdom, and Charisma. I've got maybe 4 hours on it, but it should be enough."

Delyna pipes up "Any miscibility issues or side effects?"

"No, I thought of that and drank the int potion first to make sure the calculations were right. The wisdom potion second to make sure it was a good idea, or I would have used a purgative, then the charisma. In future, I may do the wisdom first, but you need wisdom to know you need wisdom. We're burning daylight here. As for the rest, I did take 2 semesters of mandatory business courses and at least one of them is about running meetings. Next ask."

Ahira raises her hand and I point to her. "Actually, I think we have a method that will work better than surgery. Some of the researchers in the Bullshit Box have been cooling things up."

"The Bullshit Box?"

"Spell testing lab and workshop 3. The one that got built since you were hogging the runtime on 1 and 2 gets full fast." A guy I had seen around a bit but never really spoken to chimes in. I know he was the guy Tabby had as a lab assistant up until a few weeks ago, apparently this is where he went. He was wearing a full set of magical PPR and motioned for me to follow.

"Ok everyone, meeting adjourned for now. Feran please come with in case we need to go with the first plan. Good luck everyone."

We take the high speed tram to spell research room 3 and its nearby lab. Here there is a three-story hopper attached to some kind of industrial rock sifter, several grinders and some odd smelting parts. Someone has painted the words Bullshit Box on the side of the hopper.

"Well, that answers that question. A new one now, what is it?" I am impressed by the thing. It's clearly made of their odd magical bronze intermixed with other exotics. My weak point sensor senses very few. Something like it must have been used in its construction.

"That is the current culmination of our research into exotic materials analysis, alloys and use of ontological inertial alchemy." He smiles.

"I am bothered by the fact I think I understood that." I really am.

He grins wide. "Short version, we have samples of all the exotics in the mine that we have been able to find here. They are cut, polished and otherwise shaped into precise forms. Then, for testing purposes to make sure every sample is identical and there are no lasting side effects of the experiments, the box has been able to use ontologically inert materials to poof everything back into the box when we're done. Once we have a result we like, we pull it out using Nitrimine radiation to wipe away the effect."

"So we have a cure for Gallup?" I'm shocked I hadn't heard of this already.

"We're getting closer, right now it only works on inorganic materials, and we can only do it to about 200 lbs of material per day. Someday soon, though, we hope. But that leads us to our next work here, the Nitrimine fixative. It's based on the work you did during your period of instability. Some of your notes indicated a formula that could enhance humanoid biology but had the side effect of making one's emotions or other control systems go haywire or at least become fragile unless Nitrimine Rays were kept on the subject in precise doses to reinforce their stability. From this we have actually managed to make a candle that can keep someone from any mental instability for as long as they can meditate on the flames and a beam that can keep inanimate structures from breaking down. It also can halt the progress of wounds, but it retards several forms of healing as well."

"Where are you going with this?" If this is the short version, I don't want the long one.

"Inside this workshop, sir." I follow him and look at a room with potion racks and sample cases lining the walls and fling the shelves. Each one was carefully and neatly kept with a long table and measuring apparatus along the front wall. "We've seen the problems in making several potions. The magical ingredients, or more specifically the lack thereof, and we have managed to synthesize Prima Materia." He holds up a golden coin with a tree stamped on it.

"We don't need to turn lead to gold, we have a literal goldmine."

"This is much better than gold, it can take the place of any potion reagent so long as the reagent isn't conceptually necessary to the reaction."

"Sorry what?" This time you have lost me.

"In a human invisibility potion it can't replace the Thestral hair as that provides the invisibility for it to latch on to, but it can replace the fennel, the Jarvey spit and the Ashwinder eggs. Likewise, in the fire breathing potion it can replace the Bicorn horn as a magical source but not the Ashwinder eggs as they provide the spark of fire."

"Ok, so you've increased our possible pool of potion production" Say that five times fast without spitting.

"Yes sir, and we have found that in some potions specifically ones that change the form in some way Nitrimine fixative in small amounts can extend their effect time."

"Ah, so it's to be Polyjuice then. Where are you getting the sample of the target?"

"Apparently Joachim knows where the bodies are buried in this town in more ways than metaphorical. He's having it sent in the next hour."

"Ok that explains the no surgery, but what about my mods?"

"We've tried it sir. If a person is stabbed, polyjuicing them into someone who is not stabbed won't heal them. Likewise, polyjuicing into someone with a prosthetic will not provide the prosthetic. Oddly, juicing into someone who is injured, but the injury has not had time to set in to their pattern will not harm you, even if changing into an amputee will leave you without the limb."

"So you're going to give me cancer?" All of a sudden surgery seems like the better bet."

"Only for a moment, sir, then we're going to use some of the newer healing potions to reduce it back to the levels he had a few months before his death. We'll make sure to turn off the transformation each day, so it won't progress."

"By the way, I am putting my life in your hands, who the hell are you?"

"Casimir, sir, I was part of Tabby's team before I went and formed my own. She is far more interested in the acquiring, exploring, and discovering part of material science than what to do with the stuff once we have it."

"I skipped something there. Our new healing potions can cure cancer?!"

"Yes sir, or it seems like it so far. None of the rats have got it again, and it's been a week so won't know long-term, but it will at least treat it temporarily. We've also found a way to suspend a spell matrix in a fluid medium, so we could make a potion out of one of your stunners, although it would have almost no use. But more importantly, we can make a form of liquid patronus that clears the body of any form of supernatural possession. The method has been uploaded into your Pip Boy sir." He puffs his chest like a peacock.

"I understand that a reliable way to exorcise someone without potential harm to the exorcist is one of those things magic has been searching for for a while, but we're in a plane where there aren't any possessor spirits."

"Aren't any yet sir. If your plan to give magic to the masses happens we'll see them soon enough, and better to have and not need than need and not have."

"So what am I to do in the time until the corpse bits get here?"

"While we have you, I want to analyze your system so we have a good before picture, and so we can prep you for Nitrimine enhancement once we have all the kinks worked out. So far our we now have subjects which no longer mutate or have emotional stability problems, our plan is another month or so of testing, and we'll have it ready for you."

"Why me?"

"You designed the process for yourself, sir. I am certain if we did it right now it would work on you with no side effects, but we want a general treatment, so I wish to see in great detail the exact changes that happen in you so we can find the general solution."

"Works for me. I didn't know crazy me wanted to be the perfect Adonis and polymath but fuck it. It turns out I do want that. Strap me in for analysis and have someone read me the new codices. All the time I earmarked for surgery I'll do that, then on to learning the earlier topics."

"Very good sir, right this way."

A very comfortable set of leather goggles with silk lining are on my head as I am seated in what is more a plush armchair than any doctor's chair I have been in. I am told it is the product of some of the biotech notes I left.

"Sir, do you mind if I ask a few questions? It's about your research."

I'm feeling very chill right now. "Go on."

"I and the rest of the team have read the notes from your moments of satori exhaustively. You had the capacity to make creatures that could survive black holes, hypercognate, use telekinesis, and pretty much win any possible conflict. Why didn't you? Why can't we?"

"As far as I am concerned, you can, with a few caveats. The reason I only used that tech to mod myself and not make new people is that they are people. If I make something sentient, I am its parent in all the ways that matter. And as you know, I am not ok bringing kids into this life. If any of you want to make little toddlers of mass destruction, go ahead. It's not like I would even want to stop you if you did it the old-fashioned way. This is just a very complicated egg or sperm donor situation. If you do make life with a soul and a mind, and now I can tell, which is a fucking trip let me tell you, you're out of the warehouse until the kid is an adult by my standards and I will check."

"What if we make one that's already an adult"

"Same deal, you're off the team and probably in Silverseam until I am convinced that being out like this won't emotionally cripple them. I'd say don't raise kids to do specific tasks or work for you, but if I took that kind of stand I'd have to start trying to take kids form like a third of the population. So I will say you need to give them as much of a choice of what they do with their lives as a Tiger Mom does, and they need to have a legal ID. The reason I haven't done it myself since it would be kind of neat to have an adult son or daughter is I am not sure enough of myself to make a mind that is already mature and on it's shit. I don't even know what one of those looks like. No one I interact with is emotionally healthy except maybe Ulath and I can't get into his mind to check, and I super don't want to ask. That is an awkward conversation. Hey, can I use your mind to raise my child? I think he'd do it because religion, but that is at least fourth date stuff right there."

I expect him to bring up the need for security or that we could have an army of superbrutes, but he's from a world more dangerous than this one in which going to the next town is taking your life in your hands and there are monthly monster attacks at least, and they don't use their golem or homunculus or other life making technique to make people en masse, so there's probably something to it from their end. Any of the ones I talk to think of this place as a garden world with next to no crime or danger and the supervillains as just very colorful adventurers, so what do I know?

He goes along with my..holy shit my divine edict. This is an actual statement of morality and not action, I have made to a worshipper. I feel some kind of way about this.

"Hey Casimir?"

"People have just started calling me Cash sir, or Johnny." I dutifully chuckle.

"Could you make sure a recording of this conversation gets to Ulath? I want his take on it."

"Not sure sir, but probably."

"Why not sure?

"This is my last day in charge of the BS box. I and maybe 15 of the others are staying in Brockton to set up a real proper research station for biological enhancement and a school for magic for some of the humans Joacim is providing. We should have it ready and waiting to treat you by the time you get back. Plus, it's essential to have a temple set up so all of the teleport potions have someplace to go to. Although the human delayed teleport foci seem like an interesting if unreliable other method. We want you, among others, to have a rapid escape if you're on earth that can't be breached by sneaking or busting through a door. The fact that you can't fully close the door behind you has several people worried. Others are grateful since it means you can't get us all trapped in here but many of us are seeing this warehouse space, even if we just stay here forever it's more than twice as big as it used to be, so they don't really want to go outside. Some are Syncretists that want to get some distance from both Silverseam and Ulath."

"Syncretists?"

"Sotha Sil our creator god rests on a throne, his body was slowly replaced by holy machines of his own devising in hopes he could shepherd his people through alien disasters. He is clad in an armor of gold and supported by wires that spanned his great temple. Sound familiar? As an act of devotion in the old world, several of them replaced small parts of themselves with automated magical prosthesis to become closer to his form. Their bodies were made whole again when we all entered his clockwork city, but they believe this is only so they can have another chance to do it right this time. We're making an augmentation lab and school. They're going there, end of discussion, at least for them."

"Them? Aren't you their leader?"

"The head of the lab, yes, the temple they are going to set up? That is Rosala. I'm not a syncretist. The closest I am is a Nietzschean. My god is dead. I watched him die. I was there to tend his wounds and helped to build his sacred prosthesis. I know he is not the Emperor of Man, although he would have approved. I will not forsake him or deny him in my past lives or my next ones. However, I too wish to get the whole true flesh thing right this time so we work well together. I will relay your commandment. I know you realize what it is, to Ulath. Sotha Sil believed in you and I believe in him still, so I will ever seek to improve your lot in life. "

For the first time since I was a kid getting shot I am in a doctor's office bawling like a baby. The old, no, ageless man hugs me and comforts me as snot and ugly tears pour down my face.

"I'm not worthy and I am not ready! I don't deserve any of the stuff you all do for me. I'm a fraud and a waste of space and dealer and not a very good one at that." Ah, it looks like the Charisma and wisdom potion wore off.

"No one is born deserving. That's not what it means to deserve something. Even he who is most wise was not born deserving of his godhood. He worked every day to become worthy. It is that that made him worth following, while all other gods were secure in their divinity. He made himself worth it, as I know you will because he believed it to be so."

I got none of the studying done before the plane ride. I sat and ugly cried until they fed me tincture of corpse bits, then I sat curled up in my new body, while Cash and Ahira comforted me. I wasn't even able to look at myself and meditate, since I was in a body other than my own. Ahira actually went to our original quarters to get my old pillow I had taken from home when I went to school. It was taken out of practicality, not sentiment. It just happened to be the only thing that has survived my college career up to now and was small and portable enough for me to bother taking to the warehouse. It was my anchor, my lifeline. Once I was loaded onto the plane I got no work done, but I slept like a rock.

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Chapter 25: Chapter 24

Chapter Text

Chapter 24

POV Micah

So I roll up to Albuquerque without having to eat any sauerkraut or guess the number of molecules in Leonard Nemoy's butt; I do the latter anyway just because I can read genomes from across a room and it seems like fun. (Leonard Nimoy weighed 70.0 kg, the average pelvic area is about 13.66 percent of a human body so 9.6 (2 sig fig) kg and if you make the semi-reasonable assumption that flesh has a molecular weight similar to water, there would be around 1025 molecules for each kilogram of butt. So 9.6 x 10 26 molecules roughly, but I am off by more than three). The plane ride is uneventful, even though I am not officially on it and use a fake face and ID.

I take a taxi to someplace in the suburbs where I can set up my foldable door large enough to get the car out. I head to a Starbucks bathroom and check in on the folks in the warehouse, make sure they have the bad guys ready for transport and in the back of the sedan. I put on yet another new face and body, that of Daniel "Danny" Martin, cancer patient, loser of the Panacea lottery and brand-new Cape.

I have the usual cape costume in the southwest of domino mask and t-shirt with lightweight close-fitting pants and I don't look great but I don't look that bad. I'm Quite thin, nearly skeletal from the chemo but filled out a bit since my "trigger". I've got no hair anywhere, and I'm pale-ish. Not quite Irish level of white yet but I've certainly spent a lot of time indoors.

I drive the unmodified sedan registered to my name out of the warehouse, and a team drives out the modded one. They're going to prep my house. I waste no time in driving right towards the local Protectorate HQ. It's a nice building with an angular sandstone face and angled spires coming up behind it, similar in style to the nearby San Fillipe de Neri church only larger and surrounded by concrete bollards and other subtle and beautiful security and anti-siege fixtures. The multi-tower structure certainly helps.

A lot more effort has been made to make this place fit in with the surrounding Oldtown architecturally and still be imposing and impressive. It's closer to the center of the city than the one in Brockton, so there is far less time to get heroes to a scene, and they seem like much more a part of their community rather than separate tourist attractions or special citizens. On the one hand the constant traffic nearby must be a security problem but with a large garden grounds that subtly doubles as a killzone it isn't that bad, and it means that people will sometimes willingly just sit in the green space and enjoy themselves with a chance of seeing heroes. For someplace next to an area that has almost been declared HOSV a few times, it is incredibly chill.

I drive up to the business entrance and am stopped by some agents. Their armor here is lighter in both weight and color to prevent heatstroke, and it makes them seem a lot friendlier than the ones at home. I've visited a lot of towns lately but never the same kinds of places I see at home. This really drives in the "America is not one country but like 6 or 7 countries in a trenchcoat" idea. Without the GPS I would never have pegged this place as a government building let alone a Protectorate base if not for the man made of fire that flies down in front of me soon after I enter the outer gates. I remember to fanboy.

"Oh Scion, it's Solaris. Um I don't know what to do here, but I caught some supercriminals while I was on vacation and wanted to bring them here." I look at him with wide eyes and point to the bodies in the back seat. They are almost certainly the reason the soldiers called him.

"Thank you..citizen?"

"Oh sorry my name is Dan- er Stalwart. I got powers while I was away in Brockton when these guys tried to murder me."

"And you decided to bring them all the way back here?"

"Well I looked them up on PHO and one of them has six separate birdcage orders and the others are multiple murderers, but they've escaped from Brockton custody about 20 or so times each, but I've never heard of someone escaping here without being some kind of teleporter so I sedated them and bright them."

"That was very, very dangerous."

"My powers make me pretty invulnerable right now"

"Yes, but several innocents could have been harmed if they escaped during transit" I put on kind of a hangdog expression."

"Sorry, I only triggered yesterday and I have been on a lot of opiates and haven't slept in 36 hours since I didn't want to stop in case they got out." He looks at me with a worried and uneasy expression.

"Opiates"

"Yeah, they're prescription. I went to Brockton to get healed. My number didn't come up." I do my best to look tired, drained and haggard and as though I had been crying for hours. The act is not difficult.

His face softens, and he calls for some more troopers with confoam and a few other capes I recognise. A young girl in a brilliant read and orange outfit peeks out of one of the windows at us.

"I'm going to ask you to come quietly. We have someplace where you can sleep awhile, and then we'll have some questions."

"Ok. Thanks, Solaris. I knew you could," I yawn deeply "fix everything." I step out of the car, hand a guard the keys and nearly get burnt when I let myself fall asleep on the muscular man that appears when Solaris turns off his breaker state. The last things I hear and feel are being loaded onto a cot.

I wake up in a very nice interrogation cell. It has a clean bed, a chair and a desk facing a plexiglass window with an intercom. I yawn and scratch and move to the desk to sit down. A woman in a tan costume with a helmet covering her above the nose and thick gloves with tubes leading to her arms is sitting across from me along with a woman in a suit and a pair of guards. She turns on the intercom.

"Hello Stalwart. I'm"

"OMG you're Dose! I have all of your merch! Um sorry, yes" I poorly attempt to calm down. It's kind of nice letting my inner fanboy play. She smiles and even blushes a little, very briefly.

"Yes, thank you, and this is Assistant Director Gonzalez." Gonzales herself seems both amused and relieved that I will likely be an easy sell.

"Hi Director. I am sorry if I caused problems but um I wasn't thinking very clearly after I got my powers and …" It is her turn to interrupt me.

"It's ok, Stalwart, plenty of people do far worse during their trigger event than drive across the country. Do you know what your powers do?"

"Well, I am strong, durable, and largely cut proof. I kinda found that one out thoroughly. All of those Nazis were very stabby" Dose lets out an accidental snerk of laughter.

"Yes, I hear they tend to be."

"I was hoping maybe you could help me find out what the rest are?" The Assistant Director keeps a calm face and simply goes with the flow.

"Certainly, we were about to suggest a medical check-up which is why Dose is here along with some of our other doctors and power testing. If you like, I can even see about forms for you to fight crime in a more official capacity." I look at her with stars in my eyes.

"Really?! I didn't think I'd be qualified to be an official hero, just an independent or something. I thought there were tests and classes and things."

"Well, I think you've passed the practical, so I'll see what we can do." She presses a button to unlock the door, and I decide to go for the hug rather than the handshake.

"I'm so happy! I thought I was going to die, now everything will be ok, and I am a hero and everything." A large hairy man in light armor with a mask is there, I hadn't been able to see him through the window, he was around the corner.

"Enthusiastic little fellow isn't he?" My current height is 5'4" and I'm still 19. This body though has much, much less muscle mass and fat. He grabs one of my spindly hands in one of his massive ones and shakes it. Partly to get me off of the Assistant Director and partially, it seems out of genuine friendliness as it turns out he is a hugger too.

"Wow, Urso. I thought you'd be on patrol or something."

"I was, but I heard I might be needed to keep some new rowdy prisoners from getting out of hand." He turns to Dose. "This one seems fine, if a little energetic."

"He is that, but no he's not a prisoner. He is here for power testing and a possible new teammate. Allow me to introduce Stalwart." I give him my best hands on the hips hero pose. It looks totally out of place on my frame, it gets the intended result as the big man chuckles.

"Well then it's a pleasure to meet you Stalwart. I look forward to working with you. Especially if you brought in the peckerwoods we've got in the cells." I beam with pride.

"Yep, that was me!"

"A good start to a heroing career then, but I must be off. Nice to meet you."

"You too!" I wave enthusiastically as he walks down the hallway. "Don't know what it is, but I feel like I just have more energy than I have ever had in my life!" Dose responds."

"Powers can have subtle additional effects. Let's get you into an office and see what's what"

We go along the corridors and through some security doors to what is clearly the medical area of the base. A human shaped blob of pale blue goo in a transparent plastic cover joins us along with a pair of doctors in the office. They go through the usual medical checkup things. They find out I have enhanced reflexes, remarkably durable skin, muscles and bones, although only the outside layer of bone. They find out I have no real protection against energy effects, except for just being sturdy and regenerating at all.

With the help of some tinkertech crystal needles from sandstorm and an enhanced MRI they also find the bad news. I still have leukemia and it is quite advanced. My regeneration is only making it grow faster, even as my hardiness means I may live a bit longer. No one knows how to tell me, but Dose eventually does.

"I am so sorry." She puts her hand on my shoulder.

"It's ok. Before they said I had maybe two weeks to live, now I'm at least up to maybe four. It's better than I expected when I went to Brockton. I've made my peace. At least I did something important with my time." The assistant director had left the room so as not to be present during my medical examination. Now she has returned along with Director Garcia. He speaks up.

"Mary has told me about your unique situation. The forms you signed earlier lets us read your medical records for safety reasons. You have my sympathies. I will see what I can do about expediting your paperwork and letting you work as a member of the team during the time you have left. It's the least we can do."

I feel like hammered shit. Not just because of the Leukemia I now have, but because I am taking advantage of these people. The high of a plan coming together is mixed with the deep low of deceiving genuinely, nice empathic heroes. Fuck. I was expecting the usual PRT indifference and the sort of rule-bound fuckery I saw in Brockton or I learned about through the cases they let us study. Shit. This is going to hurt bad, and I'm not sure I can go through with it. They offer me quarters in the building for as long as I like. I accept them and may even stay in them some of the time but for now I just want to go "home". Success shouldn't feel worse than failure.

When I get to my former place Sammy, Ahira and Casimir are waiting for me. It's a small trailer in the middle of nowhere. I step through the door with leaden feet and a hung head.

"Did it not work? Do we need to scramble?" Sammy is ready to get us out of there in a second if they need to.

"No, it worked, that's the problem." Cash nods but the other two seem confused.

"Ok, so we beat up some bad guys, make sure you have a nice funeral and get out." Sammy looks more relaxed already.

"I don't know if I can do it."

"Don't worry about it. Between the potions, some illusions and maybe a little coaching you can manage it! I know you can." Ahira's attempt to lift my spirits falls flat.

"Ok, I can do it. I don't know if I want to anymore. They seem like genuinely good people, and I'm taking advantage of that just to save my own ass from the consequences of my own stupidity." Sammy bops me on the top of the head.

"No, you damned fool, you're taking advantage of them in order to save several hundred people from getting into a gang war and maybe ripping apart half the town. To save fucking Imani and Devon from the consequences of their bullshit. The heroes having a few hurt feefees for a month isn't going to matter in the long run."

"There are kids, there man."

"First off, fuck em, second off, better they learn about death by losing you than losing someone they actually care about in battle or a family member. They are child soldiers, no matter how you pretty it up, and they are parahumans. That means they've already been through some fucked up shit and survived. A nice man showing up and dying soon after isn't gonna do much."

"I guess? I'm going to bed. I'm exhausted. I'll see you all tomorrow." Ahira follows me, an invisible guard stays in my living room as two more patrol the house. The warehouse door is set to my bedroom closet. Might be inconvenient as people may disturb my sleep moving in an out, but I have earplugs, and it's useful if I need to get in there fast or get backup. I slip again into slumber.

Words: 66,294

New Power

-Builder Package Tier One Tier Two Tier Three Fragment of the Dream (Generic Island Castaway)

Builder Package Tier One (100CP)

Wood and other plant life. You are an exceptional builder with these and know the characteristics of such materials at a glance, you can also form mental blueprints and interact with them as if you actually saw them in the real world to assist in construction, as well as making infallible mental checklists of materials with exact steps, materials, and dimensions needed for the build, you also have an easy time locating useful materials you need for building and you take less time to build than you should.

Apparently the hydroponic beds, potion gardens and green tinkertech from Kenny in Baltimore has finally been understood by his "Thinker power." Sooner or later something is going to show up that can't be either explained by either "Everyone can do this. We just haven't figured it out on this earth.". "I am just grabbing interdimensional flotsam from this key thing." or "I am figuring out existing tinkertech that I already have access to." Fuck, if he had got tier 4 or something else non teachable he could have started picking at the seams of this but no. A degree in parahuman studies and some weird rolls means our MC remains in the dark about this whole Celestial Forge thing. :headdesk:

-Master Craftsman (Forgotten Realms) (300CP)

You are exceptionally skilled at crafting things. At your worst, your results are masterwork.

Class: free:

Truenamer: Truenamers study the words that comprise the fabric of existence. They seek to unravel and comprehend the mysteries of the Multiverse by learning the Truenames of as many of its components as possible. A Truenamer learns new Truenames as he progresses in level, which he can use as utterances to manipulate the world around him. All truenamers know the basic words of Truespeak that allow them to describe creatures that they encounter, so the new words they learn enable them to alter those creatures in very specific ways. As they continue to advance, they also learn to describe—and thus affect— inanimate objects and even places, which are more difficult to describe using Truenames.(Tome of Magic)

Player Benvolio: Hooray, finally a class!

GM Benvolio: Wait he doesn't do combat.

Player Benvolio: Ok well he can increase his knowledge of spells!

GM Benvolio: He's already doing that with basically all that he can. NOw he is being a beatstick but as soon as he can he will go back to doing just that.

Player Benvolio: Alright...well his pronunciation will be perfect! It's in the Tome of Magic it says so!

GM Benvolio Dude, he already got that perk with Oi a little bit ago.

Player Benvolio: Well we checked the book. He knows his own Truename!

GM Benvolio: What does that do?

Player Benvolio:searches: Allows him to boost Truename spells!

GM: Benvolio Does he have any Truename spells?

Player Benvolio: No.

GM Benvolio: Does he have any way of getting Truename spells?

Player Benvolio No, :( not until another roll gets him a faerun spellbook or something.

GM Benvolio:Starting equip wasn't free in this jump huh? :pat's shoulder:

Player Benvolio: No.

GM Benvolio:Any other powers?

Player Benvolio: Skill focus occult.

GM Benvolio: What's that do? Let me see. Adds 2 (or 10%) to occult research. Ok, I will make a note of it.

Player Benvolio: At least since we're in the combat part we'll get some exp, he might level!

GM Benvolio: This is 3.5 physics, only if they are within 8 CR of him. Plus he'll need proper spellbook and vancian nonsense if he doesn't want to have to re-research and refactor the spells into one of his existing systems

Player Benvolio: cries

GM Benvolio: Hey man, it's ok. It's pretty easy to refactor D likes into Elder Scrolls magic.

Player Benvolio: How many sells can he get?

GM Benvolio: without a functioning magical support economy? 2 per level.

Player Benvolio: :Cries Harder:

Author Infodump,

Feel free to skip it

The cape scene and criminal scene in Albuquerque:

Most cape fights as well as the borders between all of the gang territories conflict on or around Central venue in an area known as The War Zone. (In 2009 they will try to rebrand it "the International District, this won't take very well).

There are 30 or so capes in small groups as minor heroes, minor villains and whatever running around that no one but cape nerds or small neighborhoods care about.

Almost all the gangs get their money from smuggling and car theft. Turquoise is heaviest into drugs and counterfeit merch. Thugs Causing Kaos is mostly into that. Protection, violence, property damage and they're all locals. 18th street is an international gang and these are the local parahumans in it. Their higher end leadership is regular human but they seed Capes into high profit high conflict areas to protect investments.

There are no current well known independent capes. The closest there are is the neverending conga line of tinkers and thinkers rotated in and out of Los Alamos Labs (home of the Manhattan Project) and Sandia National Laboratories. Both major nuclear research, weapons research and how to clean up nuclear biotech and other horrible things research. Several other support industries exist to feed them.

No One Pokes the Nuclear Tinkers. I repeat, conflict drive or not no one pokes the nuclear tinkers.

Albuquerque has not only a lot of nuclear research but strategic oil deposits. Everyone has plans for what to do when Behemoth eventually shows.

Keep in mind this is not the Brockton Bay feudal experiment. Sometimes capes end up in charge of gangs, sometimes they don't. The largest and most powerful gangs are the nomadic biker gangs of the region Bandidos Motorcycle Club, Vagos, and Mongols but they are pretty much all baseline and their parahumans just aren't on this city's circuit. They could be called but..

The next biggest gang threats are the Bloods and the Crips. The real perennial parahuman threat is when the Fallen worshipers of Behemoth come through on a recruitment drive. This usually causes an endbringer-like truce as everyone tries to get them the hell out.

.

Protectorate

Solaris - Person whose body becomes hydrogen and can blast and control hydrogen. Also ignite it for light and make solar (ish) fire. Not as good as Sundancer but not bad and can do lower temps by thinning the hydrogen mix. Leader

Sandstorm - Tinker with sand control, works well for a desert.

Urso - Bear changer, can turn into any bear (note: I checked, there are bears in New Mexico, black bears, they can survive there just fine. Sun bears could take the heat too if they could deal with the lack of hydration but he's human so he can just get a water bottle or something so not as useless as one might think)

Dose - Someone with poison control also works on antidotes though. Can generate basically whatever chemical they want inside someone's body at touch range and see what foreign substances are in a person with a touch. Makes knockout drugs with a lancet and squirtgun by generating some inside a blister on his hand, separated from his bloodstream with a tube to the gun. Likewise has an array of smoke grenades of various effects.

Villains:

Turquoise Gang - mostly smugglers and sellers of bootleg merch and stealing from tourists/hippies. Run a lot of fake healers.

1 Aphasia - anti-thinker stranger power can also interrupt cognition with a touch.

2 Sirenian - regenerating brute Lightning Bruiser: Enhanced Level, Decelerated Aging,Enhanced Durability, Enhanced Endurance, Enhanced Lung Capacity, Enhanced Strength, Pressure Resistance, Speed Swimming Triggered while snow crab fishing moved to NM to avoid any cold or water cause fuck that. Kinda pudgy. Leader

3 Fugue - Can turn intangible and possess people. During this time they can use their senses but not control them. After possessing someone they can use their powers for 2x the time they were possessing.

Thugs Causing Kaos (Yes that's a real gang)

4. Thermal - Personal body temp control. -200 C to 1600 C (hot enough to melt steel beams)

5. Pintada - Changes colors of surfaces can also make colored smoke. Has a minor stranger effect when still. Has very fine point control. Often blinds opponents by changing the surface goo of their eyes black tends not to do so permanently. Has a 50 M range but only line of site but works through cameras if the target is still within range.

Large following locally with few out of state connections. Their leader is a nonpowered Human though. The capes are muscle basically and shit stirrers.

18th st gang, it's a real world international gang. Fun history trivia: They started as part of the Clanton 14 that wanted to let immigrants and other multi racial people in and increase inclusivity. So they split. Apparently No Nazis in New Mexico means NO nazis. Even the gangs care about racial tolerance and inclusivity.

6 Echo - Absorbs sound into objects and can release it from them in various shaped blasts. Can generate sound charge as well but only by like screaming or using airhorn or sth. Charge degrades at a half life on the hour if not used. Can set conditions for discharge. Can use this to record, playback and alter sounds or to silence an area.

7. Hailstorm - Makes hundreds of tiny sharp icicles and can telekinetically throw them at ridiculous rates. Can not really move them except fling but they can make the shards as big as they like so they often set velocity of fling to zero to give themselves an ice spear or polearm to complement their ranged capacity. Immune to cold.

8. Gorgon - Wears Lucha mask with snake motif at all times. Anyone who sees their face suns to stone. Can limit how deep this effect does but having all of your skin turn to stone whale less fatal is still often fatal and very painful. You have to be exposed to his face you don't need to be looking. Is basically a conical beam that comes from his head. Is blocked by inorganic material that is thick enough (about cm) but still can kill by stoning exposed areas and choosing to go full depth making a wedge of someone's body into stone. Leader

All fight in Albuquerque War zone, yes it is actually called /gangs/albuquerque/

Wards (see almost no action, mostly patrol safe areas, not allowed into the War Zone (I cant believe thats a real name for a place). What a wards team should be, power training, close oversight, image management and limited patrols in controlled environments vs unpowered foes. As a rule the gangs avoid them as well except occasionally when TCK antics spill over.

Quarry - makes rocks. Not too much fine point control, can do rough boulders and slabs but can make them a variety of sizes. 13 M

Penumbra - Can infuse objects with shadow like Stalker's so they can pass selectively through things and can also infuse them with the shadowstuff so they put whoever they hit into a state like under Grue's mist. Accesses the same kind of things just on inorganics not organics. Makes the wall intangible to go through it rather than him intangible to go through the wall. Has better control over amount and timing than stalker does with her bolts so can let something phase back in at range after passing armor. 17 F about to join protectorate Leader

Jumpjet - Makes powered exoskeletons young tinker. Has a set of armor that plugs into a series of frames based on need. 15 F

Parry - super quickdraw reflexes. Any incoming attack they can get a sword or shield or gun in place and get an attack or block off before the opponent hits even if it has to warp time to do so. This does not extend to dodging this does give them strength to make the parry or shot hit or do damage. Just that the shield is there in time to block and they can get their shot off before opponent does. 16 M

Sunrise- (Dawn was taken) Solaris's daughter or younger sister. Shoots hydrogen plasma blasts, makes plasma shields. Basically plasmakinetic. 13 F

Contagion - Is a sentient (often human shaped) pile of bacteria. Can control other bacteria by touch. Case 53 body is covered in suit at all times. 15 NB

Chapter 26: Chapter 25

Chapter Text

Chapter 25

Micah's POV

I went to bed in the mid-afternoon yesterday, so it's no surprise I am up at dawn's first light. I slept in a stranger's bed which oddly feels like it's made for me. I suppose I have shaped my body to fit this bed, not the other way around. Everything around me is arrayed for ease of use while in bed, in case I can't move that day. I look around the room and there are no pictures, no prizes, no real signs of a person. This is not to say the room doesn't have signs of personality. There are posters with incredible landscapes of faraway islands. Models of planes and boats and a half dozen ships in bottles. One of them lies half finished on a rolling table beside the bed. Tools neatly stowed in rows besides the unfinished work. Tammy's investigations on his social media profile reveal no family and few friends. The only regular appointment is a twice weekly support group and a once weekly visit by a caregiver. I've cancelled both. The man in charge of the support group lets me know he will be by personally if I need it, but he understands.

"Yitgadal v'yitkadash sh'mei raba b'alma di-v'ra; chirutei, v'yamlich malchutei b'chayeichon; uvyomeichon uvchayei d'chol beit yisrael, ba'agala; uvizman kariv, v'im'ru: "amen."; Y'hei sh'mei raba m'varach l'alam ul'almei almaya."

I don't even remember what more than half the words mean, it's just what you say, and I've said it often, living where I live. I think this might be the first time I say them with feeling and with faith. Ok not faith. I know that there are gods out there. I have performed prayers to machine spirits and watched them work. I have performed spells and know how they feel different. Nisimal has shown me soulstones with souls inside. I still haven't figured out what to do about those. The simple ones with animal or monster souls are fine and are in use making the potion factories go, but there are people trapped in some of those rocks. Neither he nor I know how to release them or even if some of them should be released. A few count as global apocalypses worse than any endbringer if they are let out.

On the one hand, there is a soul. On the other hand, a soul that can be shaped and devoured, etcetera is it really a soul? Is it more sacred than the body? I don't know what to think about any of this but I am surrounded by the trappings of a slow death. I don't have faith, unfortunately now I do have knowledge. The knowledge only gives further questions. Frankly, I am glad I am not trying to solve for Theodicy. The texts I have been trained on have simply stated that the world is broken and YHWH has chosen some people to fix it. They will never be rewarded. They will not be punished for failure. They are just chosen to do the fixing. If they succeed, what they get is a slightly better world. If they fail, they get a worse one. All the mucking about with other gods and pagan spirits, I don't think I'm getting docked for. I'm not praying to them so much as praying at them. Some of them I am knocking about the head and shoulders with a wrench. Nothing in the Torah about that to my knowledge, but what I know of the Torah couldn't fill a thimble.

Fuck, I even led a bunch of my people through a desert to a pretty nice place. Plus, side it took about 40 minutes not 40 days. Moses could have used a better GPS. Enough of this woolgathering. I have to do something.

My implants in my arms mean they work just fine, but my legs are unsteady at best. I have no idea how I am supposed to fight crime like this. Then again, I don't have to today, today I visit PR, but that's not until the afternoon. I turn to the half finished ship.

Two hours later, Danny's final work. A model of the HMS Victory is done, and I am grateful for my micromanipulators in my hand and precision neural upgrades. I see a day planner. I set about the rest of the day cleaning and repairing things around the house until it is done. I dig through any of the rest of his notes or phone info or anything else I can find. I spend the day finishing every bit of his unfinished business I am able to. Warranty cards are filled, wills are finalized, gutters are cleaned and a thousand little repairs are made.

I'm here to save lives, but unless I walk on my hands I'm not going to move much faster than a decent run. Most of what I can do is throw or shoot really accurately and not die. Let's see what PR has for me to do. I call for a car and head to the PRT building.

The image people waste no time in getting to me. A relatively generic outfit in grey and blue with a shield on the front is tailor-made for me. There is some padding, but not for armor purposes to make me look a bit less emaciated. I approve of everything they give me, and I will be starting a patrol tomorrow and doing so three times a week for the next month if I can. I ask for the hardest route, so tomorrow it will be a visible presence tour along Central Avenue. The heart of the War Zone. The local head of PR pulls me into a small office when we are done.

"Mr. Martin? I have a proposal for you that I wish you to think about." He puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Ok, I'm up to hear anything."

"I'd like you not to unmask, even posthumously."

"I-i wanted to leave a legacy, why?" I sit, significantly baffled.

"You will. I'd like the protectorate to be able to buy the name Stalwart from you. We have a few brutes joining us in Missouri and Arkansas. They have roughly your build, or at least the build you have in your suit. When you pass on, we'd like to publicly announce that you are transferring to one of those bases. We'd like you not to unmask in front of anyone you haven't already. The Protectorate needs its heroes, its symbols. Every single one that dies is another reason for people to fear. We want to give hope." The man in the suit, later I find out his name is Marco Spinelli, fixes me with his steel gray eyes.

This pretty much solves all of my problems. I won't traumatize the kiddies, I won't be taking advantage of the heroes, I'll be building the cred of a new guy. Why does accepting though make me feel slimy? Oh yes, pattern recognition. How many times have they done this already? How many heroes die in the line of duty or of things like slipping in the tub or choking on a bit of food, and the PRT just puts another person in their costume? How many of the "casualties" at the endbringer fights are just names and costumes added to the butcher's bill so no one ask questions?

On the one hand, fuck, this is an unpleasant government cover-up. On the other, who does it hurt? People think heroes are more invulnerable than they are, that probably makes a few more villains think twice about starting things. On the gripping hand, do people who sign up normally and have their images already owned by the PRT know this might happen to them after their death? Are Protectorate heroes like kids' goldfish? Fuck, I wonder how many Alexandrias we've gone through.

I breathe, the slow response is somewhat expected with a question of this magnitude. "Ok, but on one condition."

"What is it?" He seems surprised at me responding this way. Does he usually get a no? A simple yes?

I rack my brain for what Danny would want. I didn't expect to have to actually name it quickly, I just said that on instinct. "You give a fifty percent cut of whatever you, and by that I mean the PRT, not the new wearer of the suit, make off the image to the UNM children's cancer hospital under my real name. I want some kind of legacy, and that is one I'd be proud of." I crumple into the seat.

"Sounds great. I'll get legal to do up the paperwork." He smiles, all the tension flowing out of his face. He has a warm, friendly handshake like a car salesman or a politician.

"The Assistant Director wants to speak to you about your patrols, shall I tell them you're on your way?"

"Yes" I get up and head to her office. I breathe a sigh of relief when I've left the PR area. I think that was more nerve wracking than the fight. I move to knock at her door, but it opens automatically when I stand in front of it. Odd choice for an office door. I do stare a bit at it.

"Some of our heroes only sometimes have thumbs but still need my help." This was a level of disability access I hadn't thought about. It also explains the many ramps in the exterior architecture.

"You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, we have something that requires your unique powers. It could help us tremendously, but it's a little more behind the scenes than a patrol."

"Sure, if you can put me in tomorrow's rotation instead, I'm game."

"Ok, come with me to the Tinkertech testing area."

I may have made a tactical error. We get in a van and go to a disused airplane hangar in the desert, surprisingly close to the city. Inside is the kind of lab I am familiar with. Everything neat for a given value of neat. All the tools are hand reachable from the desk without having to rummage through drawers. This leads to the look of a jungle full of hanging tools on cords or rows and racks of different devices out and on the table leading to a cluttered appearance, but there is a method to it.

A young person in power armor with gloves similar to my own micromanipulators sits on a stool. AD Gonzalez clears her throat, then a little louder. Then she fires a Nerf dart from a nearby gun apparently left by the door for this purpose, and the armor automatically moves to dodge the projectile, making the kid get up and turn around.

"Jumpjet, this is Stalwart, Stalwart, Jumpjet. Jumpjet's specialty is exoframes, braces, armor, and other wearable support items."

I do see several sets of metallic frames and odd straps hanging on hooks along the wall.

"One of the major problems is she can pretty much only make wearable tech, and we don't allow wearable tech that hasn't been tested. Sadly, we can't get it sent away for testing without at least one attempt at a lab test. We've been using dummies, but ones that match human internal articulation is hard. Human experimentation is illegal, and corpse testing has its own problems. For the first time, we have a Nigh invulnerable person that needs help with their mobility on patrols. We are going to give you one of her already tested early walking frames regardless of if you do this or not, but we'd really like to have you test the rest." I have no idea how puppy dog eyes are visible through a helmet and visor, but the girl dropping to her knees, clasping her hands and saying PPPLEEEEEEAAASE! Definitely helps get the point across.

They strap a lot of sensors to my groin as apparently that, the ankles and the knees are the real places walking frames have trouble. I find out why as one frame tries to take a long leap with one leg while the other one still has pitons keeping it on the floor. I do find out that in addition to impact damage, I am largely immune to pulling damage, but not completely. I do need an icepack but only for a half hour or so and even that is mostly unneeded. This body is very used to pain. Then it's back to the lab. Iam shocked, stabbed, overheated, flung into walls and ceilings, in one memorable case frozen, and subject to corrosives. Those actually manage to make me burn a bit, but they put it out quickly and my regen kicks in. I also find out I am not particularly resistant to fire or energy weapons, except electricity. We all learn some important lessons. At the end Jumpjet has another 40 new pairs of techno trousers and 23 new full suits to send off for testing and I apparently have my first big fan as a hero. I am kind of glad that we don't talk too much, since it is clear she only wants me for my body.

I had also forgotten in my rush to protect the little kiddies from unwarranted grief that kids are assholes.

Words 68501

Chapter 27: Chapter 26

Chapter Text

Chapter 26

It's my first (and technically only) day of training before my first patrol. I was supposed to learn two things. One, how to use my mecha leg braces to run, but I learned the hell out of that yesterday, so I am ahead of the game and have almost a full day for. Two, I am supposed to learn how to deal with ricochets. They already know I have some kind of super aim or super steady hand. The trouble with being bulletproof is that buildings aren't. So I spend the day from dawn until dusk getting shot and learning how to roll with it. Even if the force wouldn't knock me back, how to move back when hit to rob the bullet of momentum. Again, the padded suit helps a lot. I have loose weave mesh under the suit but over the padding. It provides no protection whatsoever against bullets coming in, but once they are flatter and wider it catches them coming out. By lunch, I can pretty much catch anything about to hit the right side of my body by interposing my arm.

They give me what amounts to a very thick foam-and-something shield where the outside can electrify lightly, not enough to even stun just enough to give a short shock, a brace of confoam sprayers. I have a belt pouch with a medical kit and some narcan. I have another one full of those little zip tie handcuffs. I spend a few hours training with these. The troopers' martial arts instructor tries to teach me some simple self-defense methods. I suck. I slowly get over my fear of being punched in the face that I had during my earlier boxing lessons, and I do get a new set of drills and exercises to help my dodging. I have been keeping up that training at least since then. If anything, learning spellcasting has only helped as really anyone learning human magic has taken to randomly firing harmless jinxes at one another. The less said about offensive uses of the Engorgio charm the better.

They try to teach me some safe submission holds, and I suck even harder. For the first time my practice of training my left hand the hard way and my right using mods is throwing me off. I have the mods on my left, they just default to off, and I didn't turn them on during testing, so I'm not really going to be able to use them unless it is an emergency in the field. I eventually figure out how to hold someone still without hurting them, but we all agree that if it comes to that I should just bind or foam them. Something I do not have is super strength. Something they don't have is another upper body muscle frame suit. All of the current ones are in use, in testing, or being repaired. The next day is showtime.

Showtime is both better and worse than I expected. Today we're mostly doing visible presence. Cops are doing a patrol up and down Central Ave. The dead center of the war zone. They are mostly staying in the cars. I'm teamed up with Solaris. Not only is he literally the most visible, what with being able to turn into a beacon of fire, but somehow he is also the most well liked. He wears bright colors, is always friendly, knows what he is talking about, and oddly hasn't caused any collateral damage fires. Sadly, he can't really go it alone to these kinds of things. If he is bulletproof, then he can't grab anyone in his gas form and his fire form doesn't really have a stun setting. If he is physical enough to grab others and arrest them, he is physical enough to get shot.

It gets into a pretty simple groove. Most of the time we walk, wave and stop at the occasional café, or business to see if the people are doing ok and hear their complaints. Some folks on the street are glad to see cops, some are mistrustful and aggressive, but basically everyone likes to see heroes, or at least the heroes around here. Sometimes we stop and take note of vandalism or graffiti. We have one of Sandstorm's tinkertech sandblasters, and we actually clean the tags off of several of the buildings ourselves without harming the paint or the brick. Partially it is what keeps the shopkeepers and residents happy with us, partly we leave some subtle surveillance equipment to see who puts the tags back up. It turns out the gangs kind of have to tag anything they want to keep since turf flows so quickly back and forth around here. This is a good way to catch the little fish to lead to big fish.

I really had no idea the Protectorate did this kind of thing. Maybe in Brockton, they don't? I for damn sure have never seen photos of Armsmaster cleaning someone's wall. It almost seems like Scion's kind of doofy kitten rescuing, but this definitely has a purpose and when more important things like muggings or thefts are reported we drop the cleaning tools and rush to help.

That happens just the once, though. One of the benefits of this being a pr patrol is it keeps the crime down because everyone and their cat knows we're coming. One of the detriments in terms of catching people is it keeps the crime down because they know we're coming. But I get told by Solaris repeatedly that it's not about catching criminals. Criminals do that to each other all the time. It's about preventing damage to the citizens. I appreciate the outlook and mentioning to him that a lot of time the citizens are the criminals or vise versa, the criminals are just normal folks most of the time is really not worth ruining his flow and doesn't' really fit the enthusiastic innocence I am trying to portray. Besides, the simple outlook really is kind of as seductive as it is reductive, and not nearly as harmful as the other perspective I see so much. Folks that think, "If I just capture all the criminals there won't be crime." are a dime a dozen and "If I just keep all the people from being crimed at there will be no crime is an exhausting but superior simplification."

It turns out Solaris is almost as happy to have me with as I am to be there. Dose isn't bulletproof, Sandstorm stays in their lab unless forced, and Urso is only bullet resistant to a point. S mentioned he can only do so much good solo and patrols have to be in at least pairs in case of Cape fighting, so usually several of the PRT soldiers or local SWAT has to be visibly present with them and walking down the street with a bunch of folks in heavy armor does not have the same vibe as just walking along followed at a discrete distance by a freshly washed minivan even one with police markings. I'll admit, a lot of the fake hero worship I am trying to act out really does seep into me out of character. Solaris is a good dude, and by and large the people he works with seem like good people. I've checked up on them in PHO and yeah there are some sex scandals but mostly just people fucking around on each other nothing rapey or under-aged and there are some other complaints like them not doing enough and not trying hard enough to catch the bad guys but meh. I could move here. Nice people, nice place, no Nazis.

I go on my first nighttime patrol the next evening. It is very, very different. Again, I am aired with Solaris. He is pretty much invisible the whole time and all I get is a faint whisper in my ear from time to time and an indistinct blob on my IFF scanner. This has an entirely different setup.

The cops, ATF or DEA mark out a place that is either a stash house (once, and I kind of feel hypocritical) or far, far more often someplace where an active gunfight is happening. They are much easier to find. Solaris diffuses through the building then comes back and tells us the situation, then I just walk in and start foaming people and absorbing bullets until everyone is out of ammo or tries to flee. When they leave the house, they run right into the waiting arms of the police. It is fast, it is effective, and usually no one gets hurt. This is freaking awesome. We catch criminals who are actively criminaling and being shooty about it. No moral ambiguity, no excessive force. Just people with pistols caught in puffballs and then rolled to jail. I can leap across rooftops and Parkour! with Jumpjet's jumpjet.

By morning, I feel tired and sore and elated. I am actually actively being a hero, and not in the subtle crime prevention way or the brutal beatings of minorities way. Guy has gun, shoots someone, I grab them. I can see heroing being more addictive than heroin, and I get why folks might look the other way about some shady captures if this is the rush they get. My legs never get tired since they run on alloy frames, my eyes are sharp my hand is swift. This is bad-ass. I go home and sleep the sleep of the just. I never understood that phrase before, but of all the ways I have passed out since all this started, this might be the nicest.

I wake up to a beautiful face in a mild panic. Ahira is waking me up and telling me I am needed in the warehouse hydroponics lab. Of course, why would anything uncomplicatedly nice ever happen.

I am shocked to find that no one is injured or dead and nothing has gone super wrong. The only thing that has happened is some of the magical plants have crossbred with some of the mundane ones, and they need me to work up some designs for better bio containment. I breathe a sigh of relief until I end up heading around back, of the greenhouses to see what project they have been working on. It's a giant wooden mech.

I sit goggle-eyed for a moment. Then again, most of that is proper PPE habits and wearing actual goggles on my eyes when in an experimental zone or work site.

"The fuck is this?" A youngish Dunmer I recognise from the guards group looks up at me.

"Wooden disposable mech sir." Ok, I walked into that one.

"Why do we have a wooden disposable mech?"

"Cheaper and less labor-intensive than a metal one sir." I slap myself in the forehead. Of course.

"How did this happen?"

"Well, you know the designs you uploaded to the maker database with the plans for disposable mechs." Ok, I did do that.

"That was a thought experiment in case we ever had a maker assembly method of an arbitrary size. Tell me we have that and all is forgiven" The glint of greed and science on my face is plainly visible.

"No sir, but we had all of those armor plants from Kenneth, sir. If you have enough nutrients and carefully shape them, they can grow however big you like"

"I think he's actually Kenji, he just goes by Ken. Besides, the materials can't be that good." If he could be pedantic, then so could I.

"I'll admit, sir, they're not up to the proper one's spec, but it's lighter and regenerates. We have a mix of healing potion running through the coolant system and some of the nitrimine ray emitters at particular junction points."

"Isn't nitrimine very explosive and highly flammable. Not exactly things you want in a wooden mech."

"Handled, sir. Nitrimine rays are, well radiation we can radiate something with it thoroughly enough that it retains the charge and emits it slowly."

"The charge plate must have a half life measured in minutes."

"That's why it's disposable, sir. You really only get twenty minutes of mech so far before the knees give out and what you have is a very sturdy wooden bunker with some impressive weaponry and a medical suite, sir. Plus, we can make more for cheap. We just have to hold certain exotics near the nitrimine ray emitters for long enough, give it sun, water and fertilizer, and we have another."

"How long do they take to grow?"

"About a week, but I can have as many as three done in parallel so far."

"How many have you got done so far and are ready for deployment?"

"Just the one sir, the rest are either growing or were used in testing. They do only last 20 minutes. We keep one on hand and ready, then when we have a second one ready the first is used for testing, so we can refine the design."

"And this caused the contamination how?" She has at least the good sense to look embarrassed.

"I sort of got carried away trying to crossbreed the armor plants and some of the faster growing magical plants to improve the regeneration. The pollen sort of got away from me and infected greenhouse 3." She hangs her head in shame.

"Well, it's a neat project. Get some of the bots to build a set of hangars with grow lights and transparent roofing, and keep all the mech plants and construction there. It might take a few days, so no more experimental crossbreeds until you have someplace safe to do them. Also, you and whatever other people you have working on this are mucking out greenhouse three."

"There is only me, sir." I am suitably surprised and impressed.

"Name?"

"Lolia, sir." She raises her head and meets my eyes she seems far more excited than sad at her upcoming situation.

"Good work Lolia, but keep it safe next time and don't work alone. You need others to help keep you from forgetting these kinds of things." She saddens again.

"I tried, sir, there are only the twelve of us aboard now. Everyone is busy."

"Well, make sure one of the folks from potions checks over your numbers then. I'm going to need an org chart. Actually, that's part of your punishment, make me an org chart with everyone's job description." Her features drop like a child that's been told there's no Christmas this year.

"Yes sir, but that might be impossible sir. Except for Nisimal and Tabby, no one really has formal jobs, they just do whatever whenever if it looks interesting. Also, what's an org chart it sounds unpleasant and there doesn't' appear to be a related concept in Dunmer for the translation thingy to grab ahold of."

"Ask Ahira...no...Tabby... No. Am I the only person in this demi-plane who has taken any business classes? Wait! We have one more business guy. Ask Todd!"

"fuck"

Words 71,068

Chapter 28: Chapter 27

Chapter Text

Chapter 27

POV Rebecca Costa Brown.

The Dunmer situation seems to have stabilized. Initial impression that this is Toybox having an attack of conscience and disposing of failed clones by giving a kid a Toybox dimensional backpack and a thin cover story has not panned out. Initial testing shows they are not clones. Thinker analysis shows that Stash at least believes that he has a tinkertech vault he is using and that they just "showed up" one day. This has led to other hypotheses.

Either the unknown Soviet tinker messed with their DNA extensively in addition to colloidal silver admixture or they are some kind of alien. Doctor Mother's efforts at stress testing several of the ones that live away from the colony has led to the knowledge that while they can handle a vial it will either cause a massive brain hemorrhage or will be completely ineffectual apart from a strong glow. Several of them seem to have lingering minor stranger and thinker effects perhaps granted by a power given trup or the original tinker incident. Comparison shows they have significantly more human DNA than Nilbog's creatures do so either is possible. Both believe in the existence of magic and in both cases minor parahuman powers have been observed. The most common seem to be blaster, brute, or stranger. It will keep though, the PR boost to the PRT being clearly heroes in the right is nothing but helpful. Where is that PR detailed report?

Looking at these numbers the New Mexico Protectorate is disproportionately effective. We had previously built it as a PR team which could handle major emergencies, but not actually effect change on the conflict generator that is the city. Albuquerque is practically a cape machine. People go in, they get triggered by the war zone, then are whisked away to other cities by the nomadic gangs, international gangs, or the Protectorate. It is a neat and simple machine. It makes the entire southwest very easy to deal with, leaving time to manage whatever new insecurity David has managed to dredge up from the bowels of his psyche. It is something predictable without precog help, something sturdy and something pure. People go in, powers come out, and they even have heroes that are heroic. I know it's essential, but it hurts every time I have to twist good people into bad fates. This is the plan going smoothly. Something is messing with it. I am going to have to murder them and I won't even feel bad.

Several reports and emails later, and I find out why. There is a new cape there who is helping out. Time to see what is up with the plan, shouldn't it be affected?

"Door to Contessa"

She is in her usual sharp attire and she turns to me.

"He'll be dead and his identity Goldfished in under two weeks. There is some slight stranger interference, but that happens anywhere a lot of people trigger often and Aphasia is there. It will keep the team from actually suffering full-blown despair and stopping their pr efforts to see some kind of change happen, however briefly. Place a call to this number, say this, and there will be enough gang activity in Ciudad Juarez to refill the criminal talent pool. Also drink some jasmine tea that you find at the coffee station outside your office."

"I am going to need you to use your best judgement in reigning in Watchdog. Their strangers are messing with the path in the Northwest. Move them around a bit until I can get a clear picture"

"Thank you. Door to office"

Lucky me, it seems. It would take me at least a week to arrange his murder subtly enough to not rock the boat there. Sometimes things are allowed to be easy.

POV Micah

Why is nothing ever easy? The times between patrols and shipbuilding are a blur and my days have just gone from patrol to patrol and my nights fight to fight, any other time is lost to a blur of medication.We were called into another active gun fight like normal. I can't believe I just said that, but moving on. It wasn't just guns, it was capes and no one at dispatch thought to mention it. Thermal from TCK and Hailstorm from the 18th are going at it hammer and tongs in a residential home full of their various gangmates. Is it gangfriends? Buddies? Brothers? Co-workers? What is the collective noun for the people you share a gang with that isn't family based? I digress. I wish Ahira or maybe Lolia or someone with the training at this were here, at least monitoring. They know how to do these reports without their hands shaking. Again I almost died. I am not fireproof. I am fire resistant and heal fast, but not fireproof. I need to drink some fire resistance potions before going on patrol in this town. I don't even care if it breaks my cover. The cops didn't know there were even capes inside until a blast of ice shards came out a window, and they didn't come in to see what was going on as per procedure until we had cleared out the villains.

The biggest problem is we weren't prepared for them, and they were prepared. Thermal brought some kind of tinkertech air cannon, nothing as sharp or dangerous as Stormtiger's blasts but enough to deflect a lot of blaster power. Thermal came loaded for Hailstorm, a parahuman with a hard counter to temperature powers and a device to stop or at least reduce the shrapnel. Their preparations also incidentally almost completely keep Solaris out of the fight. He can't use his fire since he wouldn't be able to control his shots well enough, and he can't really get close or he disburses. This one falls to me since I am already in here.

Neither of the two want to get arrested though, so both turn all of their attention to me the moment I walk in. Joy. I'm about to give my dodging training a workout when I notice the spear-like ice shards are easily punching through the thin walls of the building. I wanted to give my new dodging training a try, but blocking was the right thing to do. Hailstorm was just sending focused full bore blasts of ice shards as long as my forearm and sharp as a razor. I ignore the damage and keep moving towards him, and he quickly blunts their tips. I am still uninjured, but the force is knocking me back, keeping me from getting a hand on him.

Thermal comes in at me from the side and just pounds on me with burning fists. 50 50 coin flip if he comes to my right side or left. Of course, he comes to the left. I have my shield, but no super reflexes. He punches through the shield, melting it and hitting my arm. God, it hurts. I fall to the ground and scream. Hailstorm, seeing as I am not a threat anymore, simply shifts his attack a little to the right. Thermal is knocked back a little, but the ice melts as it gets close, so he isn't even buffeted back. The water hits his skin though and turns to mist, immediately flash boiling away. It gets cloudy near me, and I get brave and stupid.

With my good arm I roll a confoam grenade forward. Not far enough to get Hailstorm, but also not far enough to be seen outside the fog. It billows out into a sphere of rigid floof and from my fallen position I activate the jump boost and just ram the foam sphere into him. Well, close to him. He sees something the size of that ball coming easily, and I can't really see to aim with the ball in front of me, so he sidesteps the whole thing. Luckily, the plan was not to bop him with a Nerf boulder. Ok, it was but I had a backup plan. As I pass him by, I spray him in the back of the head with a foam sprayer, so he can't see to shoot and then quickly cover the rest of him. There is a horrible squelching tearing noise as he rips free of the foam by icing over some of his own flesh and making spikes but at that point he does leg it out of there not wanting to actually get caught.

Thermal can burn through any confoam I spray him with, he can melt any cuff. I do give it a shot with a grenade, but I find out that burning confoam smells like burning styrofoam and rotten cabbage. He dives at me, coughing. I think he is coming to hit my arm again, but he hits low instead. He is melting through my leg frame so I can't follow him if he runs. Nobody said they were allowed to be clever. I resent this immensely. Since I can't get him, I concentrate on his wind gun. My hand closes on it and wrenches it away. Then Solaris comes in, still invisible and chokes him out, Sure he ignites on Thermal's hot skin but Thermal and he are both fireproof, and a confoam sprayer works as a smelly fire extinguisher, so we do indeed save the house and the neighborhood from burning.

One out of two villains caught. And they were both run out of the area rather than take whatever they wanted to take from here. We got a cool blaster. Sadly, I have to turn it in to the PRT for safety before I can analyze it too much, but I think we can safely call the whole thing a win. The EMT's that how up for the wounded gang members give me some anesthetics for my arm, and it heals up over the next two hours once I am back at base and Sandstorm can abrade away the melted flesh. It reminds me that I do need to make or have someone make a knife that can pierce my skin in case this kind of thing happens again. It's easier to regenerate the cut-off area than regen around the melted meat. Dose gives me the good painkillers and I actually sleep at my assigned Protectorate apartment on base for the first time. The view of the gardens and the city is very nice, even at night.

I wake up to the sounds of email hitting my cell phone. Both my phones, actually. I have one in my civilian life confirming that Crystal will be meeting me at our agreed upon time but needs to meet at the cafe by the hospital. I tell her it's fine by me. The other is from Lolia with something that is definitely not an org chart. The visual parts of it look like an elder sign mixed with a football play diagram as it attempts to map in 2d all of the social, official, emotional, logistical, and conditional hierarchies going on in the warehouse. I really do need to find a name for the place other than just the warehouse, as now precious little of it is an actual warehouse. Something that comes with it though are description sheets of my people, and that is actually worthwhile.

Nisimal M, Elder,

Primary speciality: Archwizard,

Secondary speciality: crafter.

Most common task: Sociological minutiae research (personal)

Task for the team: Magical curriculum design and teaching. Research oversight.

Tabitha F Young Adult

Primary speciality: Dowser,

Secondary speciality: programmer

Most common task: fucking around online

Task for the team: Maintenance and expansion of informational architecture.

Ulath M Adult

Primary speciality: Priest,

Secondary speciality: counselor.

Most common task: Meditation and spiritual research

Task for the team: Maintenance of psychological health.

Turil M Young Adult

Primary speciality: Illusionist.

Secondary speciality: Crafter.

Most common task: perfecting illusion and shape shifting methods

Task for the team: Decorating the living spaces, labeling and organizing the object maker files.

Lolia F Young Adult

Primary speciality: Arcane combatant,

Secondary speciality: Horticulture

Most common task: Aggressive Botany

Task for the team: Monitoring security systems and maintaining Guard Buddy Perimeter

Feran M Young Adult

Primary speciality: Miner,

Secondary speciality: Potioner.

Most common task: Until recently, urban exploration, while confined to warehouse, reviewing Earth Bet Media

Task for the team: Potion crafting. Potion factory oversight.

Delyna F Adult

Primary speciality: Assassination,

Secondary speciality: Reconnisance

Most common task: Normally ingestion of exotic poisons. WHile confined to quarters researching being Feran's "Sugar Momma"

Task for the team: Security, Secretarial. She also maintains official communications with Silverseam and other groups.

Zenith Genderfluid Young Adult

Primary speciality: Reconnaissance

Secondary speciality: Fiber Arts

Most common task: When not confined, hunting Earth Bet creatures. While confined, hunting magical beasts on the mountain, Making them into fashionable furnishings.

Task for the team: Decorating and creating soft furnishings and clothing patterns. Overseeing Fixit Buddies for ergonomic accuracy in their objects.

Beraren Nonbinary Adult

Primary speciality: Mining,

Secondary speciality: Geology.

Most common task: finding, retrieving, and classifying exotics

Task for the team: Maintaining PPE equipment, finding, retrieving and classifying exotics.

Nepothah F Young Adult

Primary speciality: Woodcraft

Secondary speciality: Cooking

Most common task: Running around in the Fuel Depot unsupervised

Task for the team: Cooking, maintaining food gardens and tweaking food and water supply from Fuel Depot, Synthesizing or researching new flavors.

Davur M Young Adult

Primary speciality: Artificer,

Secondary speciality: Materials science

Most common task: Currently in charge of the Bullshit Box

Task for the team: Currently in charge of the Bullshit Box

Sherithath F Adult

Primary speciality: Golemcraft

Secondary speciality: Music

Most common task: Downloading MP3's

Task for the team: Assisting in Coms. Cataloguing actions of and designing Buddy frames and loadouts

Ahira F Young Adult

Primary speciality: Engineer

Secondary speciality: Weapons research

Most common task: Researching properties of the local metaphysics

Task for the team: Education and coordination.

Samiel NB Adult

Primary speciality: Driving

Secondary speciality: Stealth

Most common task: Driving

Task for the team: Driving

Todd M Adult

Primary speciality: Trading

Secondary speciality: Navigation

Most common task: COntacting potential trading partners, socializing.

Task for the team: Navigation, external relations, Earth Bet material acquisition. Warehouse material sales.

The Chosen M Young Adult

Primary speciality: Mechanical engineering

Secondary speciality: Business administration or Parahuman studies, it is unclear

Most common task: Leadership, Being a Messianic figure

Task for the team: Cause the team to exist.

TIL we have magical beasts on the mountain. I knew we were getting foodstock, fertilizer for the gardens, synthetic proteins and water from the fuel depot, but I had thought it had all been automated. Upon further questioning of Lolia, I find out it had entirely been automated by Dunmer who had since left, even the auto trams picking up empties and dropping off new supplies. I did not know we had someone just running around in there. Something to look into. Also, apparently Todd is carefully selling some of our precious metals to help bolster our bank accounts without running into NEPA. She also made something called a "Shipping Chart" which had nothing to do with our cargo, but she said it was important for its power dynamics and social consequences.

Words 73,331

Chapter 29: Chapter 28

Chapter Text

POV Micah

Today I die.

It's been another week. It's hard to walk or think without potion assistance. I stay in the exo frame but half the time I am just piloted around by my right hand implants. Still our catch rate for shooters is highest this city has seen. I've been coughing up blood for most of the day though. I have been losing hours to blackouts. God this sucks.

I have explained that I don't really want people to see me like this, so its time to begin my "transfer" Jumpjet gives me a hug and almost unmasks to me. I ask her not to since I can't return the favor and I can't tell her why. The entire day is spent recording and discussing my experiences for the person who will fill this suit after me. The only real people I have interacted with at all are the Assistant Director, Solaris, and Jumpjet. After several hours of trying to get everything down, so my successor can pretend to be me I just cave. I speak with Solaris in private. The rest of the team is being told that I am being healed by Tincture, then moved to a new city. Only the PR guy, the Director and the AD know otherwise.

Apparently I've been doing such a good job they're "Moving me where I am needed more" I get the feeling this happens almost every few months around here so there are some perfunctory sad goodbyes and some actual tears from Jump. I ask permission to let Solaris in on the secret. I don't think I can write down our interactions well enough to get them across to a decent actor. Hell, I don't even think I've given a good impression of him in these logs.

"Hey, so the miraculous eleventh hour save isn't happening."

"What? I'll see what I can do. I am sure Dose can do something."

"We've checked. I've been working with them the whole time. Tincture is out of juice since the last S9 attack. Panacea is booked solid. I have had years to make my peace with this."

"Well it is the first time someone's been goldfished on my watch." He puts an arm around my shoulder. "Is the new guy going to be here for a bit first or they using a body double?"

"They have a guy, there's a new brute in Louisiana. Started as a small-time villain but, he really deserves a chance. I've looked at his dossier and even spoken to him on the phone a few times. He needs out"

"Why let me in on this? I'm cleared for it as team leader, but fewer people is better opsec."

"Partly it's because I want to tell someone, and you're my hero. Partly it's because at some point Jumpjet is going to probably meet with and assist the new Stalwart, and she knows how I move and especially how I walk and talk. It's a small community, and we're both likely to be called in on Endbringer fights. I want someone here to tell her though who is actually good with kids and cares about her emotional well-being. I imagined telling her myself a hundred ways but she's had lots of people die on her. I had to read her file before deciding if I would tell her and"

"Yeah, it's not a fun read. I mean they never are but. Yeah."

"I know it's a cowardly final act, but I also don't want to face her. I think it will be easier once she's had a while. Faces come through here pretty quick. I figure in a few months she'll have another cool brute to play with who is more personable. Like Goldfish."

"True."

"Now what?"

"I've got about a week and my powers kick out painkillers like water after about fifteen minutes, so I can't take the easy way. So I'm going to basically rest and try to pay attention to other things."

He leans in and kisses me, surprisingly I kiss back. He tastes like pepper. I break out into tears, holding on to him. I think he sheds a few too. He pulls off the rest of his mask

Caleb, Caleb Ziegler, pleased to meet you.

Danny Martin, likewise. Don't worry, I'll take your secret to my grave.

It's a terrible joke, but he laughs anyway. Then I laugh, then we're both just holding each other hysterically laughing.

"Is there anything you want done? You know?"

"No, I have a cenotaph already at Los Lunas. If you want to leave flowers there after I am gone, I won't say no. A benefit to knowing you're going to die is being abe to make sure they don't fuck up your memorial while you're still there to complain."

"That it then?"

"I'd be up for more making out, but not much more than that. I don't know how all the chemicals in here work. My junk is hit or miss, and you might well fuck me to death. I mean, as much as it would be a great way to go, I don't think you're up for schroedinger's necrophilia."

"We've only known each other a few weeks, and you already know me so well."

"A benefit to the whole toxin be gone thing though is unlike before my Trigger I can actually eat food and not have everything wreck me, so if you'd like to go to dinner?"

"I think I'd like that Danny."

"Ok Caleb"

Oh god, am I still part of the kill your gays trope if he was already dead when I got to him? I got home after a very nice dinner. Not nice as in fancy, we went to a tex mex place he selected, and I found another benefit to this toxin thing. I can eat all the spicy food I want, and it won't burn coming out the other end. I still can't do reaper peppers or anything, but its definitely a bonus. We go back to my Protectorate quarters and say meaningless things to each other and cuddle. I didn't realize how small the hero community is and how few chances for dating. At least one in like 5 people is a commanding officer, so they can't date a subordinate and there are never two leaders in a city. Non cape partners, well you don't see them much, you can't really date PRT troops and finding the time for a relationship otherwise is a special kind of hell. Your real only choice is independents, long distance or try to work things out with a non parahuman. Just like cops and firefighters, though the stresses of the job are hard for a partner to deal with.

I am totally unsurprised that the last time he was with someone, or really the only times any team lead gets any is after an endbringer battle. Everyone has the whole "We lived" energy and its the only chance to meet other capes you're not responsible for. That and apparently Narwhal is doing a yeoman's job for American morale when she's in town to hunt S class threats. Not telling tales out of school here and absolutely no desire to shame her game, but she does go into battle, and flight, and press conferences naked, so I don't think I'm saying anything everyone doesn't already know. I swear though, she is keeping half of North America's Protectorate brass from suicide. Just from knock-on effects.

It's cold and shitty of me, but I am kind of glad now that Danny will be mourned at least by someone. Previously, not a single living person gave a solitary straining shit that he had died. I know I checked. That's what made me able to slip into his life. Ultimately, I personally had mixed feelings about the dude. From what I've been able to piece together he was kind of a shit in his personal life, hence the no friends, and if he hadn't died I'd be up the creek. But everyone deserves to have someone miss them I think, just for a little while maybe. Everyone deserves mourners.

Exalted and hallowed be His great Name. Amen.

In the world which He will create anew, where He will revive the dead, construct His temple, deliver life, and rebuild the city of Jerusalem, and uproot foreign idol worship from His land, and restore the holy service of Heaven to its place, along with His radiance, splendor and Shechinah, and may He bring forth His redemption and hasten the coming of His Moshiach. Amen.

In your lifetime and in your days and in the lifetime of the entire House of the Lord, sword, famine and death shall cease from us and from the entire nation, speedily and soon, and say, Amen.

On Friday evening at sunset, I die. We've pretty much perfected the drought of living death. I die, I get pronounced dead, and while they're creating knives capable of autopsying me. A clone is left in my place through judicious use of a door while in an unattended bag, an invisibility potion for myself, and a waiting car. The body won't have my durability, in fact it will rot away very, very quickly. I do wonder how they got the body though. We don't have speed cloning or the like. Maybe something with a mandrake root?

When I get home to my apartments, I ask Feran.

"How'd you manage it?"

"Well when a body is under the effects of polyjuice and it dies it stays in that shape forever. We just fed the subject polyjuice, and they passed on quickly from the late stage cancer. We did speed along the decay with a few curses but it pretty much went off smoothly."

"The subject?" I have a sense of impending dread. "Tell me we have found a way to make polyjuice work on animals."

"No sir we do have five remaining subjects though."

"What? You fucking murdered someone for this?!"

"To be fair sir, he tried to murder you first."

"What? Who! I think I'd remember if someone tried to murder me."

"One of the half dozen nazis we have in suspended animation, sir. You were adamant we shouldn't master their memories away and shouldn't let them out until we figured out what to do with them."

"Ok fair."

"They are nazis, and they tried to kill you personally and several other people who are significantly less bulletproof. I had presumed they were to be dealt with as outlaws, sir, ones not having the benefit of the rights of civilized persons and subject to summary justice."

"The US has laws. Laws that they take personally when violated."

"In point of fact sir we are not in the US. Here I think the only law is what you decide and you have definitively not outlawed killing nazis, I'd have noticed."

"I think you're playing silly buggers."

"The game is indeed silly buggers, but it is not us that are playing it. Both laws pertaining to the Toybox and Baumann penitentiary indicate that a sufficiently large extradimensional space is considered territory and must be claimed by a country separately to avoid the constitutional problems of the Birdcage, it is not technically on US soil by this decision.

"You know what? I'm going to call this a win anyway. Fuck it, I'm wrung out like a dishrag from moral decisions. He tried to murder me. He was a professional pit fighter and enforcer for Hookwolf. Fuck him."

"Wait, we still have five more?"

"Yes sir, is there anything you'd like done with them?"

I consider just having them killed and be done with it, but there is some research that can only be done with soul stones.

"Keep in suspended animation and tell me before we do anything to them."

"Yes sir."

"Also, why are you talking like that? You usually call me Boss or Big Mike, you're not usually this respectful, or sober."

"Well I am on duty, sir, and I am endeavoring to act in as formal a way as I know from Earth customs."

"I see, and where did you get your research on this?"

"In the field, sir, I have been to more than a hundred fine restaurants, and this is how servants address their employers in the finest of places."

"Ok, fair, you are dismissed, Feran."

"Very good sir." He shakes his head as if to clear it. "Thanks Boss!"

What even is my life now? It seems like I have been doing this forever.

Words 75,412

New Power

-ELDER TECHNOLOGY (The Culture Minds) (200CP)

Some civs just build to last, and it is not unusual for Sublimed civs to leave considerable artifacts behind. Any technological device, structure or vehicle that you create has an effectively unlimited usable lifespan. Not even organic matter that is a part of the device will decay, or even undergo effects like proton decay over the aeons. They will still need expendable reserves a gun still needs bullets, a laser still needs its power pack replaced or recharged but that gun's moving parts never wear out, and that rechargeable power pack can be reused for aeons and more without loss of performance.

Chapter 30: Chapter 29

Chapter Text

Delyna POV

I was never more disappointed in this world as when I found out that spirit levels meant that they had alcohol in them and not ghosts. When I found out it wasn't even digestible alcohol, I was livid. Keeping a secure perimeter around my new home has had one blessed aspect. There is only a single entry point and it is controlled by a single key. There have been a few issues, however. Infosec is a Silforsaken nightmare of epic proportions. I thought hiding from a towerful of diviners who obsessively wrote everything down was hard. This is so very much worse. Many an afternoon has been spent out and about in the world, just listening at taverns and restaurants and marvelling at the speed and proliferation of gossip. None of the secrecy charms of home do a bit of good, and when I found out there was an entire branch of their government or possibly military (the distinction is unclear) run by precognitives, I will admit I went on a bit of a bender.

Thank the great maker, whatever is his or her name, for the potions department in SIlverseam and their rapid, rapid responses. So many of us are entirely crap at human magic so far, but between the simulators, research, and help from the Chosen (Our leader? Savior? Reincarnation of someone very important, this too is opaque and requires more research) we have a method of rendering any human castable spell into a potion. Sometimes it makes the spell in question less than useless. A stunner that can only be drunk and still hurts like hell is not really worthwhile. Some are vastly, vastly improved.

I would like to discuss my new best friends in the whole wide world, the hominem revilo potion and the aforementioned spirit level tubing. Hominem revilo reveals any persons which have a soul or will (Either or both it turns out, soulless things with volition and quiescent soul gems are both shown!) regardless of what obfuscations, manipulations or other embuggerances are present.

Sadly it does not work on effects that make the viewer forget they are seeing something as soon as they see it or effects that confuse cognition but a broad spectrum effect that cuts through most simple compulsions not to notice something, and light bending, and just plain old stealthcraft that you can point a camera through is Sil sent to be sure.

The eraser mask comes a close second. It is something of a chain of effects. We have found there is a method humans use to copy memories. It is incredibly unhygienic as it involves shoving a magical conduit up one's nose. There are two options with this method, memory copying or memory erasure. In both cases, it leaves a silvery fluid that can be stored. A small pair of wands are fitted into something much like a gas mask. Aerosolized sleeping potion or a choice of other loads can be pumped into the mask, after which small wands lined with Prima Materia and covered in foam are inserted up the subject's nostrils. An external switch determines how far back up to between one hour and two hours and fifteen minutes (Precisely 88 x 88 heartbeats of the subject, various chemicals can prolong or shorten this, but they must before the memory is made, so it is of dubious utility. This is however a note to say that if the subject has recently been excited, the memory copy or erase will go back less far than memories of a more sedate nature.).

I use the copy function for personal use in the field to help out with briefings and just so I can look at things from different perspectives. The erase function makes dealing with witnesses a snap. There have also been several purchases at vape shops to scent the various aerosolized potion cartridges, both for safety and pleasure. A brisk trade in dubbed memories has been made between various people of Silverseam, the Warehouse, Brockton and Gallup. We have not yet been able to have sapients head to Gallup regularly, but memories can be sent out and signals and supplies can be sent in. Attempts to make a semi-autonomous drone to lead people back have failed.

Preliminary tests with selecting messengers by lottery without their knowledge, sedate them, then launch them to Gallup has succeeded but led to a deficiency in morale. Attempts to replace this with volunteers has inevitably led to them missing the target, as they on some level want to go to Gallup. Our gravity plate methods for reducing landing impacts are nonetheless top-notch.

Our current infosec breakthrough is a substance called Eyes Only Ink. A potioned fidelius charm is a very interesting thing. It's use as paint has rendered most of the areas in Silverseam, any small clusters of Dunmer who have struck out on their own, and several buildings in our current complex scryable or even understandable by only certain persons. We have found out that such a charm can not be applied to living things or concepts, it must be applied to a structure, however ink made from such a potion does render whatever is drawn or written in that ink only visible to whomever the ink is keyed to so long as it remains in the same building. It has been invaluable when mixed with certain explosive or mind breaking glyphs for ensuring things aren't stolen. Well, not stolen twice.

Our savior has explained that we do not have the need for such intense measures, but so long as we are "Having fun being spies" we should keep doing it. Despite being raised in this informationally dense society, or perhaps because of it, I think he badly underestimates the danger he is in. As ever though it is not his path to see daggers in every shadow. Sotha builds the tools and gives us his gifts. It is for us to wield them wisely. If we fail, the wounds show on his body. We will not fail.

POV Micah

I can't believe I ever said anything bad about intervention potions. They are phenomenal. No jet lag no long rides. I drink the potion and I am at the temple. It doesn't taste nearly as bad as most potions, Little like petrichor and hazelnuts, but Bam! I am in Brockton far too fast for me to have been in New Mexico such a short time ago.

It's been a few weeks but the story of a bunch of immigrants fleeing some kind of disaster, heading to Brockton, grabbing a block of territory no one cares about under the protection of a gang, then setting up their own places of worship and food shoop I think has been going on longer than the city has been named Brockton Bay. The signage is all in dunmer but using the Cyrillic alphabet to help sell the story of their origin. That part of the world has so many tiny dialects that the fact that it doesn't match up linguistically with other local languages might end up as a term paper for someone but won't turn any heads. The largest sign is on the outside of the building I teleported to. The First Syncretic Church of the Creator. The one in Silverside is the first Orthodox Church of the Messiah of the Creator. The one in Gallup hasn't picked a name yet. I think if I were christian I would be more worried about schisms and fighting but two Jews, three opinions. Also so far everyone has been nice and polite about it. I introduced them all to the concept of Midrash, Death of the Author, and only arguing religion over very dense meals with at least ten people and I think any possibility of a Dunmer Martin Luther is likely dissolved.

They want my help in reverse engineering the intervention potion into a spell so they can then make fixed permanent teleport gates but I definitely don't want that to happen until we're sure we won't get Watchdogpiled. I do use the largely decorative door in the teleportation reception room to open up the warehouse and am quickly dragged inside and taken by a frantically babbling Davur hastily slapping safety gear on me as I am led to a shed I don't recognise.

"Boss, we've done it! We've cracked Nitrimine radiation." He vibrates in place

"I thought we already had that." Let's see where this goes. A lot of times researchers get way hyped for small changes, sometimes they get hype for good reason, we'll see which.

"Not like this. We have managed to have the rays stabilize themselves in a recursive form."

"Ok that is either groundbreaking or very stupid. Usually having radiation reinforce itself leads to words like "critical mass" and "meltdown" " I need better safety standards.

"Oh that happened too a few times but that was weeks ago, way before I was even on the project. No we have the stabilizer stabilize the stabilizers so we can charge a structure, or better a machine to be able to last an arbitrarily long time without maintenance "

"So we have unbreakable things?"

"Not quite. If you take a hammer to something stabilized like this it will break, although it will be a little more hardy. If you ray a flower it will still need sunlight air and water. If you ray a watch you will still need to wind it. But its gears will never need replacing, its spring will never wear out.

I am talking about tires that never need refilling, engines that never need oil and pistons that never go out of alignment. I am even talking about swords that never need sharpening, and grass that never needs mowing!"

"So in practical terms we've saved some money, but we still have the same fuel costs and nothing is working particularly better or more efficiently just for longer. Very cool, but why the sudden panic?"

"A few reasons. One, the only real flaw in the wooden mechs that limited us to 20 min of runtime were the joints wearing out. We can now have mechs run as long as we have fuel and we already have near perpetual fuel cells!"

"Ok that is pretty fucking awesome, what's two?"

"We've at least cracked part of making immortality go. We can't make it work on a whole creature properly but we're a chunk of the way."

"People have been "most of the way" to immortality a lot. How long does this stuff last for?"

"That kind of leads to three. The math says three and a bit stellar ages at minimum. I am pretty sure the math is wrong, but Ahira checked it out, and I think if she could she'd have shat her pants. She gave the impression. She said there wasn't any proton decay then got out her warp detector and stated there was at least temporarily negative amounts of warp, splashed it with oil, wrapped it in wards, prayed and had a nap."

" Ok, good job, thank you for getting me in here, next time lead with that. Send me an executive summary later." I clap the guy on the shoulder and run like the hounds of hell are after me towards our quarters. Ahira is sitting in the overstuffed reinforced armchair she likes. In the dark with the starlight display on the ceiling and a wet washcloth on her forehead. I perch on the arm of her chair.

"Hey, 'sup." I put a hand on her shoulder, she puts her hand on mine.

"Nothing, everything is fine." I think I hear the first lie I have ever heard her utter. I raise an eyebrow.

"My purpose is to serve you. You should go about your work." She pats my hand and tries to shoo me off the chair.

"Too late you've convinced me I'm supposed to be some kind of religious figure, so I am caring for my faithful in times of crisis, right now that's you." She buries her face in my chest. She lets out a wail that sounds like an opera singer coming through the squeals of an old modem. Apparently I speak binary cant, this translation effect is pretty neat.

"Am I obsolete?!"

"Wha, huh? Where is this coming from?" I pet her ink black hair as it writhes in agitation.

"I have worked my entire life, no, my civilization has worked its entire life, to see something be created that could withstand entropy in all of its forms." Ok, being made redundant by technology. I have some experience with talking to people about this.

"Well, I don't know if it completely withstands it. The way I hear it, if you make a car with it the car still needs fuel." she lightly punches me on the shoulder.

"Yes, but what if you make a solar panel, it will go until the stars burn out. What if you make a warp differential pacifier. The Warp will just stay pacified! It's done, everything is done. The glorious purpose of mankind is all done except figuring out the details. My people were right to send me here. I can only hope in time I will give them the message back, but even if I don't, I know that humanity can take its place in the heavens eternal. That is wonderful, that is incredible! But what do I do now?"

"Yeah about that." I hate to burst her bubble, but it seems like she wants it burst right now. SHe lifts her head and looks me in the eyes with coolant stained cheeks. "The Simurgh, she's kind of against anything leaving the atmosphere." Those same eyes sparkle with something, passion I hope.

"I see, and she is some kind of leader?"

"No she's a weird thing, no one knows what it is or where she came from." Her eyes roll back in her head, and she dives into our internet.

"A Xeno, keeping mankind from its rightful place in the stars? I see." She stands up and gives me a big hug before putting me down in the chair. "Well since I have helped complete the single unifying goal of my entire civilization I am going to take the weekend off, then come back, pray, double check that we actually did complete the goal, and then murder the Simurgh." Ah, now I know what that fire in her eyes was, madness.

"She's a precog, a tinker, and a psychic of unbelievable power."

"Then it may take a while, but it is nothing a stalwart Adeptus can't handle with the right equipment. She is a Xeno, She will be removed from the sight of glorious humanity and from her attempts to halt your glory my Chosen, Vae Victis!"

She kisses me in a way that curls my toes and threatens the integrity of my tonsils.

"I am going up the mountain to meditate. I will be back soon and we will eat and neither of us will do anything useful. As the ranking Member of the Adeptus Mechaicus and thus acting chapter head I am declaring this day a Holy Day in his sight and in the calendar of the Machine God Amen."

Then off she skips up the mountain, singing some kind of hymn about immolating Xenos and glorious victory.

When I regain my wits, I call the relevant people to chat. We are gonna test on mayflies and other short-lived things. I tell them to get some dolania mayflies, a terrarium rigged with a melta in case shit gets out of hand.

Long story short, it works on food and devices and individual body systems. We have an ultimate fridge that doesn't need to be cool. We also have perfect organ storage. More research is needed to see if it can work on the whole body. It does however work much better on the chemical and nitrimine enhanced biologies, and on prosthetics with biological parts. This treatment is optimal for cyborgs, really. Works pretty damned well on machines, works ok on living tissues but integrated systems it really shines. Wear and tear on machine/meat interfaces are some of the biggest issues and now they are gone. Also it seems to work better or more noticeably on complex systems. That may just be a function of more complex systems having possible failure points soit becomes more obvious when it's working though.

I make reservations to pick up my next semester's books at the college bookstore and I putter about my workshop. I actually get to build something of my own for the first time in a bit. Danny's ships in bottles were nice but I want to make something cool, really stretch my new talents. I have been ignoring the bullshit box for too long and I think I see where I can fit some things together. I sit in a well appointed lab with no one to bother me and the silence sounds like victory.

Words 78,231

Chapter 31: Chapter 30

Chapter Text

POV Micah

The next morning, while Ahia works on plan Simurder, I wake up at balls in the morning to join my fellow students at the pseudo-monopoly that is the campus book store. I stand in the glacial line thinning about potential projects when I hear a familiar voice.

"You fucker!" Oh hey, it's Sandra, I wonder how she's been doing. "You never fucking called?! I thought you were dead. I had to find out you were alive by looking through the goddamn student directory and calling your parents!" Oh shit I haven't really since the hospital. I probably should do that.

"You never checked your email you never check your fucking phone." True

"Lost my phone in the fire." The head of steam and outrage she had built up lessens somewhat.

"Oh! oh, still, point stands. I thought I had gotten you killed. We need to talk." I point to the serpentine line whose tail wraps around the building twice.

"Ok we're going to wait in line and I am going to glare at you then we are going somewhere and talking about this shit." Well at least she has a plan, that is indeed what we do. We get our overpriced books and head to a place on campus by a ruined and graffiti covered brass statue of a goat.

"You didn't fucking call me!"

"No phone."

"You didn't get new phone?" I take out and wave my new phone.

"Then why no call?"

"Didn't have your number, it was in other phone."

She looks down a moment and swears prolificly. "Why no email?"

"On vacation."

To where? The moon?"

"Bunch of national parks actually, no service and couldn't afford data, was doing the road trip thing, finding myself." I show her pics at Yellowstone and a couple other places. I note Ghost is in the background of all of them. I hadn't noticed that before.

"You could have checked at a hotel."

"Could I afford a hotel?"

"Libraries are free."

"You sound like my mom."

"Did you even call your mom?" Ouch, she got me.

"…...no"

"Well fucking call her next but this is more important. I thought I had fucking killed you!" She has tears coming down her cheeks. She's not exactly crying they look like they would if they were tears of anger, but I'm not sure how to deal with this.

"excusmewhat?"

"It's my fault you started selling for the Merchants. I thought I was helping you make a few bucks. I didn't expect anyone to notice, but they found me, and they threatened me when they saw I had a supply and I told them about you, and you got caught and that fire and I THOUGHT YOU DIED! YOU ASSHOLE!" The light dawns.

"Oh, oh, ok. You shouldn't have narced me out to the Merchants." Can you narc someone out to narcotics dealers? She looks down and wipes her face with a tissue from a packet in her pocket.

"I know."

"It's mostly worked out." I shrug. She suddenly looks up at me and her eyes are wide.

"You got free of them? Paid everything off?

"No." Oh, she's mad again.

"Then how the fuck is it worked out?"

"I kinda got a job. With the Merchants."

"What the everloving FUCK!?"

"Hey, you're the one who sold me out to them, besides it's been mostly cool. Better than work study last year, that's for sure." Classifying Hazmats for an underfunded chem department with old safety gear is not a good thing.

"Ok, but you didn't know I had ratted you out until just now. I thought we were friends. Why didn't you contact me? You could have if you tried."

"I didn't think you liked me like that."

"I DON'T like you "like that" I'm your friend you unbelievable asshole. We've studied together twice a week for two years! You're the only person in the program that doesn't give me shit, try to hit on me, call me a lesbo or all three!" Yeah, I guess I am always with her for groups, and we do spend a lot of time together comparatively.

"Wait. You were into me?"

"NO! prick. I am a lesbian they just don't need to fucking say it in class or in shop like it's some kind of slur. You should know this sort of thing. It's different when someone calls you Jewish vs saying you're a Jew in that South Park tone of voice. " Yeah, that's a huge pain in the ass. Can't really report them for anything but at least it lets you know who to avoid.

"Ok fair. So... if you weren't into me what is all this about?"

"You're my friend, you shitbiscuit! I thought I was yours. I am the only social contact you have had that wasn't trying to grade you or kick your ass for the last two years. We study together, we cover each others' absences and have each other's backs. At least I thought we were friends."

"Huh...wow yeah." I think for a moment. I've actually made some friends on this trip, and I compare them to my other earlier interactions. "You're the only friend I've had in six years. I think I just made myself sad." She just kind of stares at me then headdesks before patting me on the shoulder.

"You are actually that oblivious." Oblivious about what?

"I dunno. I've never really had a study buddy or anything. I just assumed that was what normal people did to be polite."

"So you didn't think of me as a friend?"

"At the time? I dunno, what do friends feel like? I mean, I like hanging around with you, and you're good to work with. You always share your extra food from the campus mart." I guess that's kind of friend shaped. He holds her head in her hands.

"I am best friends with a fucking idiot."

"I'm your best friend?" ok now I'm surprised. She sighs deeply.

"Yes. It's sad and pathetic, but yes. You're my best friend." Ok. seems legit.

"I guess I should have you meet my girlfriend then."

"Your what!?"

"Yeah um. We met just after the fire. She helped me get back on my feet. "

"You're dating a cute nurse? Good for you!"

"Kinda, she more does like physical rehabilitation and works with prosthetics. You know what? This semester I'm working with a school and helping some refugees. I'm going to ask if they'd feel comfortable letting you come by. They're letting me live in the adjacent building for teachers. She's works there too."

"Wow Mike. you're actually developing some consideration for others that isn't from a book on the social contract or a business guide."

"I guess? I still think I should be mad at you for ratting me out and nearly getting me killed." Somehow I'm not mad, but I feel like I should be on principle.

"Level with me, Micah. If you could have fed me to Chaz instead of getting involved, would you have?" I kind of consider it until smoke comes out my ears.

"Yeah. That's fair." She sticks out her hand.

"No more ratting each other out to people who might break our legs or worse from now on?" I grasp her hand, she gets up and then lifts me to my feet. We shake and then do that bro, half hug thing.

"I can live with that."

"Ok now I want to meet your girlfriend." I hold up a hand.

"Hold on, I'm texting. Wait, you have no problem with me being a Merchant.?"

"Some, but first off, it's partially my fault. B, it's Brockton, everyone's in someone's pocket. The reason the physics teacher wears long sleeves even in summer is to cover up the E88 tattoos." I nod.

"Ok, regarding the ratting out thing you're not going to be telling my mom either, right?"

"Sure but you really ought to call her." We start walking towards the bus stop.

"I'll call her in two days when the dorms open back up. Until then, I am." I look at my phone. " Hiking our national parks. Right now if anyone asks I think I am officially at Arches in Utah looking at the Balancing Rock. I'll send her an album."

"You're fiddling the timestamp and the GPS on your phone camera to send your mom pictures of the vacation you already had so she doesn't ask where you are now?"

"This is not the most effort I have gone through to avoid speaking to my parents, let's leave it at that."

"That I understand. I am just surprised your mom knows how to get time and gps data out of a digital picture. Do you think she'd be willing to teach my folks how to open an email attachment without calling me three times?"

"You know, by then I'll be glad of the topic change. I'll ask."

POV Texts.

MKey: You busy?

SolSister: It's a holiday (ᗜ)

MKey: Not business, this is personal.

SolSister: I wouldn't mind some pleasure touching if that is what you're after. （－）

MKey: That too but mostly this is a social thing. I have a friend I want you to meet.

SolSister: That's wonderful news! I would be happy to meet her. What should I wear?

( っ )

MKey: I think that outfit we got when we went to that store with the bodybuilders.

SolSister: Blue one or red one. ( ω )

MKey: Blue. 3 see you soon.

MKey: Got a minute?

GandElf: They're getting to final Jeopardy, make it quick.

Mkey: Who do I talk to about choosing which humans get to join our magic school. I want to start a test case first and I know she has good study habits.

GandElf: For right now me but you have to run her background by Delyna. Also probably one of Luis's guys if you want her to see any of the Merchant side of things.

Mkey: I guess we don't really do much merchant stuff currently. Maybe we can work something out with the old men so we can sort of disentangle ourselves.

GandElf: That is not on the list of things that is going to happen. If you want to move in that direction I suggest talking to the rest of the religious leadership and having a good plan before doing so.

MKey: It's something that can wait. She knew and they knew and she knew they knew I was mixed up in the Merchants already. I just won't show her any vehicle stuff or the warehouse interior. We have a warehouse where we can teach spells though right? Shit, now that we have land in the warehouse district I can't keep calling the Warehouse the Warehouse in case it gets confused with another warehouse.

GandElf: That sounds like a you problem. Text me if you want but I won't be replying until after Jeopardy.

MKey: You're most in charge of deciding what name things are filed under. What should we name the settlement in the Warehouse.

TabbyCat: Papillon

MKey: That was fast, why?

TabbyCat: We've been referring to it as Warehouse Zero on documents but that sounds like a government black site.

MKey: Fair but why Papillon in particular.

TabbyCat: The rest of us have argued about this in committee for the past month but you asked me and I like butterflies.

MKey: Fair enough. Papillon it is.

TabbyCat: Great! I'll update the everything.

POV Micah

We get off the bus near the temple and start a relatively short walk to a café on the boardwalk. Everyone usually chooses Fugly Bob's and that's nice every so often, but I am in a different mood, so we stop at Eerkins Uyghur Cuisine. We order some Laghman and sit. After a few minutes, Ahira joins us. Her synthskin is a flawless copper color and the seams are covered by intricate floral tattoos. Today, she has chosen a look straight out of a motorcycle magazine. I now know where some of the magic animal hide went, as her previous blue leggings and top is enhanced by a blue leather jacket with iridescent titanium snaps and buckles. She has her helmet under her arm and sits at our table before leaning over to kiss me on the cheek. Sandy faints.

Words 80293

-Vibranium Sample (Marvel Cinematic Universe Vol. 1) (200CP)

Vibranium is an extremely rare element that possesses unique attributes. In a pure mass, vibranium forms a solid metal that is stronger than steel, but only a third of the weight, as well as being completely vibration absorbent. This means it can absorb the impacts of a great deal of attacks, but bear in mind high-energy attacks WILL do damage... especially if it is consistent. Purchasing this gets you a container a foot in length with some Wakandan Vibranium shards that will replenish itself every month.

Chapter 32: Chapter 31

Chapter Text

POV Micah.

Sandy regains consciousness and sips at her water.

"Micah, I know I've given you shit for not dating, but if you were waiting for someone like her, I apologize." Sandy is looking her down then up, then further up. "If I asked her, do you think she'd step on me?"

"Sandy, those are inner monologue thoughts, not talking thoughts." Ahira grabs her in a hug.

"I'm glad you're ok. It's been very hot this summer. Heat exhaustion is a real problem!"

"Micah, this is why we email people. I if you had just said "I was busy traveling the United States with my giant biker girlfriend for the past three months." I would have cut you all of the slack in the world as far as any further contact goes." After that comment, she composes herself. She asks about Ahira's bike and our trip, and soon the three of us are talking amicably about the art of motorcycle maintenance. This happily and thoroughly kills a couple of hours until we are getting polite but firm looks indicating we should free up the table. We'd been buying little dishes every fifteen minutes or so to pay table rent, so they weren't that put out about it, but we got there at three and the dinner rush was about to start.

There were three of us, so Ahira had to walk her bike for a bit. Sandy brought up calling my parents and Ahira squeaked with delight as she is wont to do. Looks like I was going to contact my parents, I just didn't want to have to deal with them for another few weeks. We split the difference and Sandy and I took the bus and signed out a library study room while Ahira went back home to grab a laptop and meet us there. Apart from Sandy asking if Ahira had any sisters. I said yes but they're estranged and may have passed on due to living in a high conflict zone. She quieted down and we softly talked about what to expect in our upcoming classes and who would have to take notes which days.

Ahira arrived and had a very, very nice rig that we had put inside the shell of a second hand beater of a thing. She fired it up, I fiddled with it for a bit. Sammy noticed the unique OS. and we spent a little while going over it. I was always the one that did more programming. She was always the one better at material science and chem. We worked well on projects together, with her handling power supplies, me handling control systems and meeting in the middle on whatever the device was actually supposed to do. I fired up Skype and tried to swallow my anxiety.

"Hi Mom."

"Micah!"

"Mom, we're in a library."

"Then it's your job to turn down the speakers. I won't be told to shush in my own home. Especially when my son who never calls, and is allergic to pictures actually decides to make a video call. What's the occasion? It's not one of the holidays and you don't look sick. Semester is about to start. Is it money, honey? We don't have much but I'm sure we can scrimp on a few more things for your education."

"Ma, mom, it's not money. I'm doing ok on money. I got a job at a gym."

"You shouldn't be getting a job, you should be paying attention to your studies."

"It's ok they let me study there and I have my pick of hours."

"Feh, well your father will be happy you're taking care of yourself. Why does this say you're calling from New Zealand?"

"I'm using a VPN mom."

"So now you start listening to me about information security? Where was this when you were in high school? If you'd have listened to me then we wouldn't have had to take you in for tinker testing when you ordered all those circuit boards."

"Mom I was 14"

"And already getting us in trouble with the feds. Your Aunt Ruth, god rest her soul, was so embarrassed.

"So you're doing well for money and still doing well in school I hope?" I nod. "Your little friend called me a few weeks ago. She was so worried, you need to keep in touch with that one. She's so smart and you'd make wonderful children."

"Mom, she's a lesbian."

"So? That means she'll never want kids and need a donor? Or she couldn't lend you an egg?"

"Mom! She's right here, and I feel some kind of way about you selling off my sperm futures" Sandy temporarily saves me from further embarrassment by coming on to camera and waving.

"Hi Mrs. Czilovich!"

"Sandra, wonderful. Wouldn't you and your wife like to have children someday?"

"I'm not even in a relationship, Mrs. Czilovich but if I ever do I'll keep Micah's number." She grins and punches me in the shoulder.

"So if it's not that, why did you call?"

"I have some photos to share to you." I start sending the files through the chat window.

"And what you couldn't send them as an attachment, you had to get a laptop and god knows what else and set up this call?"

"No ma, but this is the only time I've been near enough to civilization to get reception and find a place with wifi, so I figured it was worth it to go all out."

"Civilization?"

"Yeah I took Dad's advice and got some fresh air. My friends and I did a tour of some of America's national parks. Did the whole great American road trip, saw the sights and got some perspective."

"You have friends, and you've been hiking. Oh he'll be so proud. You need to get out and socialize more so long as you don't let your grades drop."

Looking at the photos I send as they come up in the chat window I realize that Ghost is somewhere in the background of every one since Yellowstone. Sometimes across the street, sometimes a few blocks away, a few times being ridden by a cop and once looking out of a third story window. A few seconds later my mom sees the photos.

"Oh you look so healthy and you got some color. These are very nicely shot, good composition. Who's the girl in the picture?" Ahira slides into view on my other side, pushing the camera back to see the three of us. She squeezes in and puts an arm around my shoulders.

"That's me Mrs. Czilovich!" My mom looks stunned a moment.

"Mom, this is Ahira we're dating."

"Oh! My boy I am so proud of you, and such a looker! Bob, Bob come here to the sewing room." My dad ambles up, still fit after sixty five years of lifting and hauling at the garment factory. A retirement and a fixed income has only led to him spending time learning tai chi in the park and taking school groups on what passes for nature walks in an urban park in Brockton.

"What is it Edith?" He sits down in the chair with something between a grunt and a sigh.

"Micah's calling, he's been dating."

"Did he get someone pregnant?" He raises a curious eyebrow.

"No dad." He is mostly off camera except for the side of his head and part of an arm.

"Shame." He shakes his head. For the first time ever I see Ahira blush.

"Robert! They've only been dating." she pauses." How long have you been dating?"

"Three months."

"Three months! And he's very much dating up! You'll scare her away." I hear the sounds of scraping wood on wood."

"Budge over woman and let me see." We now get a closeup of ancient ear hair.

"Stop blocking the camera sweetie, it's over here." My mother adjusts the camera and soon I can see them both next to each other and my father waves.

"Hi son. My, what have they been feedin her!"

"Mostly protein bars and formulated nutrient paste optimized for health and energy!" Whe smiles brightly and makes a pose inviting us all to the gun show. Dad leans back and laughs.

"You some kind of bodybuilder girl? Can't be, looks like you've still got some curves on ya. Eh, at least the boy took my advice and hit the gym once in a while. Looking good son!"

"Yes, you could say she's a bodybuilder." Ahira snorts and nearly bursts out laughing.

"Good woman, Mens sana in corpore sano! My boy treating you ok?" My dad gives me a hard stare.

"He's wonderful Mr Czilovich!" I let out a silent prayer that her energy will see me through this conversational minefield.

"Please little missy, call me Bob. Glad to hear it, he can be a bit oblivious. Sometimes he forgets your dates or ignores you. Just give him a little patsh in tuchus and he'll pay attention."

"Robert! Dad!" My mother and I are for once in agreement" My dad grins.

"What? Sometimes he needs a bit of encouragement and better he get it from a pretty girlfriend than me having to bring him back here and apply it." I hold my face in my hands. Sandy cackles with laughter before being shushed, even if we're in a study room it's still a library. My mother breaks the silence.

"So when are you coming over?"

"Well, I get back to Brockton on the 22nd and my first class is the 23rd?" My dad interrupts loudly, I turn down the speaker.

"What kind of schmuck starts classes on a Saturday? Nonsense you'll both come here and have a good sabbath dinner."

"Dad, I have to be there, they're assigning shop space. I show up late and I get the bad gear. You told me take care of your tools and they'll take care of you." My mother cuts us both off.

"Fine, fine you'll both come by Sunday I'll make something nice. Do you have any dietary restrictions dear?" Ahira thinks a moment."

"I usually keep Halal but I'm not strict about it." Both of my parents are taken aback for about a heartbeat. Total lack of interaction with the middle east and a rise in white nationalism has rendered a lot of the old tensions between Jews and Muslims kind of moot but the older generations remember. My mother recovers the quickest.

"Oh, oh well there's a wonderful Halal butcher down the street I'll make some Cholent. My Bob used to eat it when he was training. It'll help you keep up your shape and stick to your ribs." My father pats his stomach, still proud of his abs or possibly my mother's cooking.

Micah, you keep this one, A good zaftig woman will take care of you. Even if she doesn't know how to cook she knows when to eat and that's more important." He winks. And draws another agreement from my mother and me.

"Robert!" "Dad!" Our voices overlap. She slaps him on the shoulder. I turn beet red. Sandy, off camera, does the tongue in cheek and hand jerking motion thing. Ahira, oblivious to these particular social mores, nods and smiles. She puts her tongue between her first two fingers and looks at her questioningly. She nods much more enthusiastically then fistbumps her. My father nods and smiles and I see my mother actually too embarrassed to talk. Ok, she is never quite that embarrassed

"Well Ok Micah, you have fun with your hiking. We're going to have to let you go." As my dad stretches with an audible creak I hear him before the camera shuts off.

"You know I never thought he was listening, all those years he just needed some time and some space."

" I told you, you smother him." my mother replies. As he stands up he puts a knowing eye to the camera with a pained look, I nod back.

We turn off the program. I close the laptop.

"Well that happened." Sandy is a bundle of energy and enthusiasm.

"It most certainly did!"

We head to the exits and make plans to meet up in a couple of hours at a refurbished warehouse in what is rapidly becoming "Little Tamriel" as families from Silverside commute back and forth. Ahira gets on her bike and I have the privilege of riding behind her. I have never bought into the idea of "riding bitch" and anyone who does clearly just has the wrong person to ride with.

Words 82397

New Power

-Robo Bunker (Dragon Ball GT) (200CP)

What kind of man of science would you be without your very own lab? Hidden underground in your starting world, this high tech laboratory has everything you need to get started on your robotic weapons of mass destruction. While the facility can function as a normal lab, as well as having basic living quarters and strong security measures, it works best towards designing and manufacturing androids or robots on the individual scale, increasing the quality of these personalised products significantly and cutting the time and resources required to make them to just below half the usual amount.

Chapter 33: Chapter 32

Chapter Text

POV Micah

I have some time before I have to pick up Sandy at the Bus Stop. I grab some fried sweet ash yam at a street cart as a dessert. Sort of like a sweet potato fries mixed with a sugar beet dough fried with some powdered sugar on it. A lot like a fried oreo but less inherently disgusting. We just ate, so I don't buy any, but they also sell some kind of crab something. We've been eating a Lot of crab the past month since it's apparently it is a staple food in their homeworld so they've had hundreds of recipes for crustacean for years and years no crabs to go with so everyone is making some kind of Grandma or Great Grandpa's famous crab something or other every time it's their turn to cook. Near as I can tell it's why we have a quick and steady flow from Silverseam to Brockton as we get more land and buildings.

We've blocked out a full city block for just a magic school, magic industry and magic workshops but when I get there they all look like hipster techbro Makerspaces that have been refurbished and partially made into lofts. Not that there's a problem with those apart from the gentrification and this is an industrial area so gentrification isn't displacing anyone but still, not what I expected. I'm led inside and offered a choice of waters, kombucha or energy drinks of various kinds and am getting seriously weirded out. If it weren't for the blue-grey features of my Dunmer host I'd think I was in some overfunded tech startup. I am quickly disabused of this notion when after we close the door, an additional interior door comes down and she pulls back the head of a bust of Robert Boyle and hits a button. Part of the floor descends to become a ramp and I am led into a goddamn madhouse. Cash had been busy.

The room is lit by glowing pulsing orbs hung at various heights in the room. I see someone sitting at a workbench grab one with her hand and then just leave it hanging in the air over her shoulder to light up her work better. She fiddles with it until the light is brighter, bluer and more focused. I can see the uses of tiny grav plates enchanted with permanent light effects and color changing charms in concert. Every workstation has a BuddyFrame with a loadout that looks unfamiliar. It has a wand appendage, micromelta, manipulator arms, the Science Buddy sensor suite and an easy access toolkit attached to the exterior surface. Dunmer and some humans ranging in age from 14 to about 50 are moving around this main area or walking through tunnels to other points. I can smell that there is a cafeteria or something like it nearby and the unique chemical scent melting solder but beyond that the airflow in here is amazingly quick. There are outlets, ethernet ports, air pressure hookups and a few ports I don't readily recognise every few meters along the wall, each with their own uninterruptible power supply. They haven't put in any tiling or anything in the ceiling and definitely haven't drywalled anything in so I can see the cabling, holy oil dispersal system, climate control, sacred scripts, wards, water and fire suppression worked into every wall and along the ceiling.

I was intending to bring Sandy here in the next hour to show her the beginnings of a magical school and I have this! I think I'd better start her off with something simpler. "Cash, what's all this?"

"You gave 1900 bored miners and artificers of a largely subterranean people a machine that instantaneously makes tunnels, a nigh unlimited research budget and no oversight. It's a tunnel complex."

"Ok fair. Which of the tunnels has the magic school in it?"

"We keep that above ground actually, under fidelius."

"Why?"

"Same reason fireworks factories have thin roofs."

"Also fair. Is there a class going on now?"

"There are always a few people. Joachim and Mohammed have been sending their people for basic magic lessons since we moved in here a month ago and they're making some progress. Nothing beyond first year stuff but many of them have pharmacist experience so they're making great potioners."

"Ok so does anyone mind if I stop by? Bring a new student?"

"You're the Boss, I don't think anyone will care. I would ask that you take her in either with a sack over her head or in a car with no windows. If you're not read in, seeing the threshold of a fidelius zone when you cross it is unpleasant."

"Can't I just read her in?"

"You can, but until someone does a background check I'd rather you wait?" He awkwardly tries to not make it sound like a demand.

"Nah nah, I can wait. I was just hoping she'd be able to visit herself when I'm not busy."

"No problem, give her this number and someone from the motor pool can pick her up whenever. If there's one thing we have enough access to, it's drivers."

"Thanks Cash, you're a good dude."

"I do try."

"Anything in particular you want to show me before I head topside?"

"Well the cafeteria's nice but from the powdered sugar all down your shirt it looks like you just ate. We've put together something we've been calling memory markers. Normally it takes someone who is skilled at human magic to carefully remove or copy a memory in liquid form but we have been making these little inhalant capsules you can just break and inhale and it will make a mark. You pop another one at the end of the experience you want dubbed and when we use the memory mask it just takes out or copies anything that happened from the first mark to the second. Or you can pop several and basically put together a tracklist."

"How many people have been using this to record 'private time' and share it with others?"

"Fewer than you'd think. It's been mostly used for diagnostics for medical and magical purposes. It lets the doctor see the symptoms from the patient point of view. That and a lot of expensive meals."

"I thought we couldn't get taste on those things, just audiovisual."

"We have had a full sensorium since about two weeks ago. Hence the dip in saucy memories and more memories of sauce."

"Cute."

"If you're going to introduce someone to magic I'd actually appreciate it if you'd take a few of these with you and take one before you go. Saves you repeating yourself."

"All this and not having to give the same lecture twice. Sold." I pop a tab. It smells a lot like the stuff they used as spiritual/neural diagnostic contrast dye when I had the full body scan, and again when I swapped back to my old body. I ask and it is basically the same stuff and works on the same principle. It's leaving a mark to make a specific spell find it more easily. The rest of the time just flies by until we pick up Sandra and head to the teaching building.

POV Sandra

Oh my fucking god. I'm at actual wizard school, just like in The Magicians only less math and more application. Somehow little Mikey stumbled onto some alternate earth refugees and in exchange for hooking them up with papers and things they're teaching him, and more importantly me, magic. His girlfriend is from another freaking planet. Not the same one as the wizards though. Honestly it's complicated and apparently political and I give no fucks because holy shit Magic! They show me some tricks like conjuring fire or levitating me. I am pretty sure at first that they're just weird blue parahumans but then they "Awaken my Birthsign (The Thief)" and suddenly I can lick my own elbows. I do not care if they are crazy, I want more. I get a laptop with some spellbooks already loaded into it. I look through them and notice Micah's writing style and marginalia immediately. Preface says I need a wand to do all the good shit though.

"Micah. I apologize for almost every bad thing I ever thought about you. If you want you can father my children but where is my fucking wand?"

"Whoa! Hold your horses."

"I'll hold your horses. You can't tease a lady like this. I have magic at my fingertips and I need a toolkit to use it. How do I get one."

"Ok first of fine, hold my horse." I hear a neighing behind me and jump three feet in the air.

"The fuck is there a horse here. How'd he get here?" Micah points to the open garage doors. I start to pet the horse. "Ok you have mollified me for the moment. But what is between me and a wand."

"I'm going to need you to strip."

"Micah I wasn't serious about the babies thing, also this is fucked up."

"Not for that! We need to do a full scan and diagnostic, record your magical signature and match core and material to you as best we can as well as make a series of blanks and other neutral wand elements for you to use for practice."

"Oh, ok then, check me out doc." I whip off my top and drape it over the horse.

"Not Here! In the next room there is a medical office, they'll be doing the diagnostics and Ahira has to cleanse you of malign influence with holy oils. "

"Ok now I take back every bad thing I ever thought about you." I practically sprint into the medical room. I can feel myself moving faster than I ever have in my life! I can feel essence flowing through me and I can tell these are aliens doing the medical work. All of the steel tools are already warmed to body temperature. After a very thorough physical and several machines that go bing and odd glowing humming crystals I have strange unguents rubbed into me by some lovely blue skinned ladies led by Ahira. Apparently this is the equivalent of a teaching hospital and they are her trainees. I am given some pretty generic undies, a sports bra, a jumpsuit and some very odd PPE. Impact plastic pointy hat, faraday robes with weird papers on them, gloves, goggles and mask with weird valves and arcane sigils. I look like a wizard metro exodus cosplayer. We head back into the main room. Micah is there in similar gear.

"Looking good. Now we're doing this in classes. Nisimal here is pretty much the head of our little college but everyone needs to be vouched for by someone. Right now you're my responsibility. You mess up it's on me. Also it's my job to explain things if you don't get it in class and make sure you have all of the materials you need. In exchange I get to assign you a few hours of assignments per week."

"Gotcha. Me fuckup es su fuckup."

"Now in the eyes of the world you are an apprentice Wizard of the first year." He hands me a silver grey stick with a rubber grip. As I look into its hematite colored surface I see the swirls of distant stars beneath. I lose myself in looking at it for a while. "Now you're starting a bit old but so was I so you're going to have to take a pretty harsh regimen of potions each day. We'll be giving you a cooler and they're in prescription bottles. Call the number on them if you need more or you lose any. Do not hand them out to anyone. Do not have any grapefruit for an hour before or after taking them and try to have a strong chaser since they taste like mouldy ass. Any questions?"

"When do I get to cast a spell?"

"Right now, our first spell is the light making charm. It's incantation is lumos and it has no required wand movements."

I yell "LUMOS!" at the top of my lungs and a little glowing orb appears on the end of my wand with about the intensity of a 40 watt bulb. Ohmygod I am a fucking wizard.

Words 84,457

New power

-Magitek (Diabolical) (100CP)

Rather than being based on technology, you may change your theme to being based upon magic, sorcery, or other metaphysical terms such as divine blessing. Rather than lasers your goons might use magic staves, instead of hover tanks you might have supernatural creatures with durability and power to match. At least you don't have to worry about power sources or that pesky physics thing getting in the way. This can also apply a magic-based sci-fi theme, hence the name. You have sufficient expertise in your newly chosen theme that you can create and invent within the confines of it, at the level of a true master. Even if you don't have previous experience in it, this will grant you all you need.

Chapter 34: Chapter 33

Chapter Text

Chapter 33

I wake up to a chorus of interesting scents. Last night Sandy, Ahira, several of the other students and I celebrated her enrollment and the coming semester with a plethora of various alcohols. Many of them were magical. Some of them were just mundane drinks but made of esoteric ingredients. Most importantly though, human magics have discovered something that is the envy of the Dunmer. Our healing potions may be overly specific, but in this case it's a good thing. We can whip something up that prevents a hangover but allows you to still feel the alcohol. The Dunmer stuff just cleanses your system. With this you can actually keep partying, and your only worry in the morning is what you may have done the night before.

I found out that Silverside has actually put in another pair of potion factories besides our current one in warehouse, so the number of household use and similar potions are way higher than expected. Of course that really only improves our variety, not amount since they have nearly 2000 people to give potions, and we have 16 and a bit. Mostly we are exporting our stocks to them.

As such, the scents don't nauseate me like they would after a bender, but they do entice me to leave whatever quarters I am in and head out to the cafeteria. It turns out we have quarters on site at the base for our people, guests, and folks who may end up passing out. Ahira is already up, out and at morning prayers, but I grab her an apple and some tea with honey and lemon. The cafeteria is serving mostly Dunmer cuisine or as close as they can manage with an awful lot of Peruvian influence. Turns out, very similar sort of growing environments and their staples are also mostly different kinds of potatoes and sure-footed ungulates.

A lot of the spuds are deep purple/red and sweet. Some folks are thinking there has been earlier inter-world contamination or perhaps our planets do have a pre-history in common despite the different continental land masses. With dragons that can rend time, who knows what gods and wizards would have done to the tectonic plates? I know crab features heavily, but some kind of meat called cuyos is the option instead of pork or chicken. I am assured it is kosher, not that I care much, but I may want to bring some to my parents. Turns out they had largely been living on cuyos during their time in the blind eternities, but the new options for seasoning and recipes have led to a renewed taste for an old staple.

The café has also discovered the ancient art of the omelette station and the belgian waffle maker. Someone is trying to rig a drink dispenser to a potion mixer and something involving simple syrup and ghee. I wish them luck. It looks like yellow-golden glop, but it smells ok. All in all, this looks like a college dining hall in one of the much nicer colleges than Brockton while it undergoes a renovation. There would normally be drop cloths but certain lightning and air aspected spells pull the particulate matter out of the air and towards something that looks like a dire roomba. We still haven't cracked spellcasting constructs beyond a simple color change charm or similar, but having a student caster use cleaning charms makes for good practice.

I head upstairs and along the street to the temple, give Ahira a kiss and her tea. Rosala is with her. I remember her as the particularly intense one in seminar, and she's the high priestess of the local temple although out of respect the title they use is Admo meaning master teacher Admo Roasala. She informs me that Sherrel has been champing at the bit to get me back into power testing now that I have actually triggered. Something we often study is a tinker's ability to replicate other parahumans after intensely studying their powers, so it looks like I have another day under the microscope.

We head back to the workshop I was tested in those many months ago which I now find out is called "The Wrong Side of The Tracks". I suppose that tracks. It is literally under the railroad track switcher and no matter what you think about economics, under is definitely the wrong side of a train track to be on.

The combination auto shop, computer factory and hazmat lab is oddly comforting. The people are folks I know, and the procedures are ones I am familiar with. Even the new stuff I have context for since everyone here is some brand of engineer or mechanic, and they are all Brocktonites. Even if I don't know that we share the same context. I have recently found out how important that is. We know my power is learning and teaching and if I have materials that I have made the teaching works better. We now have some lines of comparison, however, to show how much better.

She has a selection of potential students of varying ages, races and genders and a series of topics. I am to try a run of teaching things I already know, including tinker craft I have analyzed. Then a round of me learning things from experts, and then trying to teach whatever I have recently learned. We have an actual study, with at least 50 people and some statistical rigor. I don't think even the PRT capes have it this good. In fact, I know they don't. Sometimes it is good to be a villain.

Turns out the three things I teach best are magic: any type even if I am crap at it myself, Esoteric science: consisting of low level programming, droid creation, Bio bullshit (I have no other name for the weird metamaterial infused genetic nonsense I am teaching, and the manuals aren't in anything remotely related to English, they just call the discipline "The Great Experiment" and there is some raving) and gravity manipulation. Lastly, construction and destruction of infrastructure. At first, we're not certain about that one but after trying it a fair bit it turns out my talent is synergizing with my Tower aspect, it's apparently good for more than just opening locks. We test this by testing other tower aspected apprentices who have never used a claw hammer and find out they learn very fast even with a normal teacher.

Speaking of learning, I would like to repeat the oft quoted aphorism of parahuman studies majors everywhere. Powers are bullshit. I am like a very weird version of Über. I can't just pull skills out of the air, and I am nowhere near as good with them as he is. He can go from nothing to world-class in the blink of an eye. I have to see a skill used or have some decent training materials and I can, within five minutes to an hour perform it to about the B- C level. Good, better than average by a little but not a master. Thing is, unlike him, I keep the skills forever and can teach them. With the three skill groups I mentioned above, I can actually teach them better than I know them. I have been a tutor before, and my mom was a teacher for a while. Trust me that particular part isn't parahuman, teaching is just like that sometimes if you're good at it. I am parahumanly good at teaching, but teaching what you're not so clear on yourself it isn't doing anything that skilled teaching can't do. The "between a day to an hour and a year to a day" level of time compression I get for teaching skills, that is the parahuman part.

That afternoon I learn to be a pharmacist, a medical doctor (at about a c or D level but a D is for diploma), a racer, an auto mechanic, basically any kind of home or building contractor you can name, an architect, civil engineer, close-up magic performer, salesman, actor, flautist and guitarist, juggler, pilot and stripper. I also learn at least the basics of about a dozen languages.

Every 20 minutes or so, throughout the whole day, teaching and learning, Sherrel looks like she has some kind of mad inspiration and tries to leave the room to go work on something. She has instructed her assistants to take careful notes and videos, and after five minutes of running off to do whatever her powers tell her to do, bodily drag her back into the teaching area. Funnily enough this doesn't cause a headache or stress besides the stress of being occasionally picked up and strapped to a chair. Her powers seem to calm down after she is brought back in. They're gentler when they're being given more information, up until the point they get another inspiration and try again. Our ability to mollify a set of power made urges does lend yet more credence to the passenger theory of power origins. Right now her passenger is like a puppy in a treat factory.

By the end of the day we have 50 brand-new combination wizard/roboticist/housing contractors qualified to do any of those well enough to pass any professional standard. I am kind of miffed that literally all of my magical students have surpassed their master in terms of learning over time. In three days they should know what it took me three months to learn and it kind of burns until Nisimal smacks me upside my head and mentions that I learned spells some humans take fifty years to learn and human spells he has never been able to grasp, and he has been at this magic thing for centuries, so I can shut my yam hole. Nisimal decides to Visit Silverseam for a couple of days and re-work their curriculum based on this new information.

The next day comes the hardest part, teaching teachers. Turns out, I can turn out teachers who have a roughly 3 to 1 time compression and a masters degree level of teaching in any one field over the course of six hours. It is nowhere near as time efficient as me teaching everyone personally, but I need to stave off burnout and I can't be everywhere at once. It is decided that I am fine with getting B's in all of my classes so because I am teaching her magic, Sandy is changing her schedule to match mine exactly and is going to tell me what classes I actually have to show up for and what the assignments are. She doesn't even need to take notes for me, so she is ok with this, but she has to have near perfect attendance herself which sucks.

I am going to be spending 8 hours a day teaching 4 days a week, 1 day teaching teachers, 1 day learning things and 1 day actually resting. When I want to, I can double up a day, do both 8-hour shifts on Monday for example to get Tuesday off, and I don't need to give more than an hour's notice that a school "day" is happening. I will say, as much as a pain in the ass as it was trying to schedule and make an org chart of the dunmer, it is a lot nicer on this end. That 8-hour day's teaching is split by subject. 2 hours of what Nisimal wants me to teach, 2 hours of what Ahira wants me to teach, 2 hours of what Sherrel wants me to teach, and 2 hours of whatever I want to teach, sorted however I like so long as they are split in to times no smaller than an hour, and the student's get an hour's notice of any schedule change.

My Pip Boy beeps. Speaking of teaching, I do have one college obligation I can't foist of on Sandy, my mentee. We're supposed to meet at three for coffee and to discuss things, and it's coming up on 1:45 now. Decon, changing and signing out a car takes a little bit so I leave the lab.

Before our meeting, my advisor did tell me why they wanted me to be Crystal's mentor besides sharing a pair of majors. She is coming to college at 16 like I did, she's a local like me, and she has a pass to sometimes retake or request extra work time due to unspecified reasons but reading between the lines without violating HIPAA is probably overwhelming ADHD. So I am dealing with a tiny femme clone of younger me ,and they don't want someone else to fall down the well of loneliness and poor work life habits. Either that, or they do and just want to make sure she does so productively and keeps paying tuition on time rather than burning out.

What I am not ready for is the person I meet. She arrives at the coffee shop frazzled with hair all over the place and a backpack overstuffed with everything and creaking at the seams. She has an old Brockton Bay Brigade t-shirt and jeggings. The real thing that catches me about her entrance is she comes dropping out of the sky surrounded by a globe of red light that vanishes with an audible pop when she hits the ground, and she walks to her seat.

"Sorry, sorry I didn't want to be late, but I don't have a student parking pass yet and the busses aren't on semester schedule and there were tours and everything was taking forever." She speaks in a torrent of words. I interrupt before she can start apologizing for the weather.

"It's cool, you're on time. You're actually 7 minutes early. I just got here a little early, so I'd have time to get a little caffeine in before having to be social." Crystal Pelham? No one could have told me that the person I'm supposed to mentor for the year is Crystal goddamn Pelham? I thought the New Wave didn't do hiding their identities. Fuuuck. I'm supposed to be emotional and scholastic support for a Ward's age parahuman. Ok, it's fine, everything is fine. I am now overjoyed that I got fed acting skills yesterday. I sip my tea to cover my silence.

"Ok, so your choice of academic topics suddenly makes a lot more sense. Lasers and Parahumans, huh?"

"Yep."

"Excuse me, we do have a few more minutes, could you watch my drink while I go freshen up?" I head to the bathroom to hyperventilate, and have a little breakdown for five minutes. I set a silent alarm.

Words 86,906

Chapter 35: Chapter 34

Chapter Text

POV Micah

I breathe, I center. You know what, sip of Wits sharpening potion, just a bit. Hmm thought I had more. Wait no we switched to ampules that's why only one vial. Well I'll keep this earlier version on me until I finish it. The ampules have a single measured dose but I think I should work out a sort of micro dosed version, maybe different mixes to put in a vape pen? Anyway, check face in mirror. Head out, alarm didn't even go off yet. Walk back to table.

"Well about half our conversation doesn't need to happen. Roughly 80% of the ass pain my mentor helped me with was getting to shadow an actual Hero for a few hours during the semester. You've pretty much got that handled." I do the Riker sit into the chair

"Yeah, Who'd you get btw?"

"Armsmaster." She seems floored for a moment. Then is trying to look for a polite thing to say.

"Really, I hear he's not too sociable."

"He was actually pretty accommodating." This statement nearly gets her to spit up her coffee. "He doesn't want anyone in his lab for good reason. He doesn't do lunches, just nutrient bars like a grad student, and he is scheduled within an inch of his life so I get why it would seem that way but he was pretty personable when I spoke to him."

"Really?" Armsmaster, apart from his PR persona of being a tireless defender of the weak in shining armor has a bit of a reputation as… let's say gruff, in the community.

"Yeah, the sessions only count as a full "day" of shadowing if they're four hours or longer. I did a ride along in a PRT van on a publicity patrol and got to listen in on com chatter and ask a couple of questions. I got a look at the admin forms he has to deal with that I was cleared to see. Sat by during a couple of bike tweaks but he had me do the bulk of my interviewing in the PRT Gym. Said it was more efficient that way. After the boredom of the tour and bureaucracy previous other students gave up when they realized he didn't have any brute powers or anything and wasn't going to show any tinkering besides the bare minimum of maintenance on the bike for fifteen minutes.

"He's a hard man to keep up with but he didn't judge me. Even gave me a few pointers as to how to better do my workouts to help with my injury. We talked about Cape testing equipment and the one off technologies from those like cheaper and more sturdy treadmills leading to better exercise machines for civilians and leading to more sturdy conveyor belts for assembly lines. Learned some stuff about inertial dampeners for strength testing helping with auto shocks.

"None of those things are built by capes but the fact that they need to be built for capes has a lot of spillover. You should look up the cut curb effect on civil engineering, should give you some ideas. Dude does take his gym time super serious though. No fitness related powers, that's all him and a few tinker nutrient supplements." Ok I am pretty sure the guy is on a mix of roids, stimulants and blood doping that makes his body fluids flammable but I'm not going to rat the guy out.

"Pretty sure he's not hydrating enough though, which strikes me as short term more efficient but long term much less. The more cut bodybuilder look isn't actually healthy but I guess his job is partly pr. Does it improve your image if you have a six pack but it's covered in armor? Maybe it's a confidence thing. So I guess he has his little inefficiencies for vanity's sake. Or maybe walking around shirtless with abs you can grate cheese on is more efficient for having conversations with co-workers. He can skip entire conversations if people are too busy staring or blushing to talk."

This time she does a spit take. I hear a loud braying Ha! then a snort. "You got a lot out of four hours of shadowing and two of conversation." I shrug.

"Yeah, I guess you already know this but most of Cape life is the stuff around power use not the powers at least for the protectorate." She actually looks surprised.

"That is very not the way New Wave does it. Mom and Aunt Carol spend time doing team related stuff but most of the rest of us just do the occasional shoot and only need to think about patrol schedules and weekly power training. " Now it's time for my jaw to drop. They do all that without constant combat training. Holy shit, they've been either very lucky, very talented, or damn near suicidal. I completely fail to hide my shock.

"Really?"

"Yeah we make up for it by using powers constantly and precisely in little ways. Stepping on a forcefield to walk over a puddle, Mom using a low powered laser to play with the cat. Aunt Carol using her blades to open cans and dig out garden beds. No separation of identity and no higher authority saying when we can and can't use them so making my powers a part of me really gives me a lot better control than some of the wards I've met. Already better at flight than my mom! Beam, shine, proud smile. although my shields need a lot of work. Fewer chances to use them every day. That makes some sense and I suppose constant living together helps with nonverbal communication and knowing how each other moves but their actual combat tactics have to suffer for it. Then again they all have both shields and ranged options. I pull myself out of who would win analysis mode.

"Ok we have digressed a lot." She fixes me with a sarcastic look.

"Yes, digression from a parahuman studies meeting to actually study parahumans"

"Yeah, yeah, I clearly don't need to guide you through the tricky waters of how to deal with capes respectfully or contact them through their agencies. I do have a fair bit to tell you about college bureaucracy. First, it doesn't matter if you have a condition now. You could get in a fight and have some mobility issues." SHe hovers above her chair a few inches and is about to speak up, little smartass. I cut her off.

"Yes I know you can fly but you might not be able to, say, move objects around the lab if you sprain your wrist or so on." She sits back down.

"Ok fair." she pouts a little.

"Before you are injured is the best time to get all of your potential injury paperwork done so you don't' have to drive yourself nuts when you are on painkillers. Also these are the folks in our department to avoid if you have an... unalterably odd schedule. The physics teacher is an actual E88 member. Tattoos and all.

Blah blah two people whose hyperfocuses complement each other natter on for about an hour without noticing. I tell her the inner secrets of making it through the Parahuman studies major. Then we switch to how to survive being a freshman engineer. She balks at the mandatory business courses and decides to put them off until sophomore year. I tell her she should at least take one so she knows about small group management, it will make projects much easier sooner than she thinks.

I warn her pretty much all of the first year courses are group projects. Sometimes there are 50 to 100 people in the classes so aint nobody got time to judge that many individual projects. Having conflict resolution, de-escalation, and management skills make the whole thing much much easier even if she somehow becomes a complete social recluse like myself. Just knowing when to actually raise an objection vs when to stay silent is a useful thing. Choosing to err on the side of silent all during freshman year actually got me in more arguments than I had sophomore year after that class. She seems to consider it but with so many pre reqs for her dual major she decides to at least let it slide til next semester.

We talked about professors and which ones reused old tests and simple things like which vending machines in the E.E. labs were never re-stocked. I hadn't done too much optics work but I had already taken many of the classes on electrical fields and their applicable maths so I emailed her some of my old notes, which were in turn partly composed of my mentor's old notes and probably back for a fair while now that I think of it.

The cafe fills up more and she kind of flinches as it fills up. We head out onto the green to sit in a more open space. Wouldn't have thought someone so bubbly and outgoing would be afraid of crowds. She asks about shortcuts to classes and exits from buildings. I know them but I never would have thought to ask about them this early.

As we walk along I check in "You ok?"

"Yeah one of my worries about taking this major though, cape chasers."

"Prof Davis basically drills into our heads not to do it from day one. To treat people like people and anyone who wants to be a starfucker can kiss any chance of working with heroes goodbye. She's really good about it. As for the rest? I don't know how to deal with too many people wanting my time, I've pretty much only had the opposite problem. Although part of being a hermit is learning how to deflect unwanted attention. I think you'll want to get that medical pass to leave the classes whenever you need for "health purposes" so you can just fly the hell away if things get too bad. If you want I guess you can call me if you need to deal with campus bureaucracy or some older student wants to play king shit of fuck mountain." She respectfully listens and seems relieved.

She seems like a good kid, If I ever have a daughter I could do worse than have her be something like that. WHOA! Where the hell did that come from? Ok then, moving on.

I gave her my number. She smiles and gives a big hug then flies away. She seems like a good kid. Kinda awkward tho. I know she has been through some shit, all parahumans have. But it seems like she is recovering. If I remember right she only triggered like 4 months ago and she's holding up pretty well. She has a public identity so I do bother to look her up. And ask around a bit.

Holy fuck! Yeah she undersold the whole cape chaser thing. That's how she got her powers even before she was a cape. Assault by a group of "fans" wanting a piece of her mom. Investigations are still going on as to if it was criminals just pretending to be fans to get close or actual violent stalkers. Shit. OK I know this is fucked up but I think I am going to put ninja on her tail to discourage people from getting too aggressive when she is in class.

Fuck, she needs self defense classes. Assault with a parahuman power no matter how justified gets serious jail time. She needs to learn how to punch a fool. Hell, I need to go back to having self defense classes. Now that I have to keep a secret identity I need to be able to throw a punch without wrecking someone. I think I need to call that navy guy who gave me the boxing lessons last time. He seemed cool, if a little stiff.

What even is my life now?

Can I just say, possibly out of laziness and possibly out of spite for my father I hadn't set foot in a gym until college when I only did so because of mandatory PT. I don't want to make out like I've always been some kind of gym rat like my dad but between heroing, power testing and drug dealing I seem to be spending an awful lot of fucking time in them now. Turn's out Mr Laborn's been doing ok for himself and is a partner in his own Gym. It's not far from Little Tamriel. Better go check it out.

On my way I get bad news from Sandy, I need breadth requirements and she can't get into my class. It's full. So we choose a class that has many more open seats and she thinks, and I agree, might be able to help us with at least ideas for this wizard thing. Women in Sci Fi and Fantasy. Big problem tho. Teacher doesn't mind if we skip the lectures, so long as we do the readings. She even says it on the syllabus which is neat. She even labels all the test days and due dates in advance. Those are not the problem. There is a participation grade and the discussion days are mandatory. One of the classes per week is a discussion day, not great, not the worst though. Plus it's Prof Hebert and she is good about both my and Sandy's extra time or doctor's notes so it won't be that painful. Just nod along, say a few things. First few weeks are the Earthsea books by LeGuin. Never read them but I hear good things.

Words 89,185

Chapter 36: Chapter 35

Chapter Text

POV Micah

Next morning I was angry about schools, very angry. Not the school I am attending, that was merely aggravating. I was mad about the school I was helping found. Here is the link but let me copy the important bits from the government website.

Accreditation: no requirements

Registration: no requirements

Licensing: no requirements

Attendance at a private school satisfies the compulsory attendance requirement if the school is approved by the school committee. Massachusetts General Laws (Mass. Gen. Laws) chapter (c.) 76, §1. (The "school committee" in Massachusetts is the local educational agency.)

School committees will approve a private school when satisfied that its instruction equals the public schools in the same town in thoroughness and efficiency and that private students are making the same progress as public school students. A school committee may not withhold approval based on the school's religious teaching.

Teacher Certification: No state policy currently exists.

Length of School Year and Days: Massachusetts' law does not specify a required length of school year for private schools.

Curriculum: There is no mandate regarding what courses private schools shall teach. The Department suggests that the Massachusetts Art Week is celebrated the last week of May and private schools are encouraged to observe the tradition by the display of works of art and appropriate exhibitions and ceremonies.

And this is far more stringent than Utah. So we're opening an expansion of a private religious school from Utah who is just expanding here as there has become a need for other members of our faith. All of took a week. A WEEK! And we didn't have to have anything checked but the plumbing and wiring! People. Actual real human people are going to be trusting alien randos with their kids for no reason based on filling out some forms and no sorts of exams or standards whatsoever. A brief background check to see if there are sex offenders and not even a thorough one.

So turns out the only standard we are maybe held to is: Have the bulk of our students perform as well as Winslow. This explains so much about the american educational system. Turns out the public school standards aren't much better, they just take longer.

Why are we fucking about with this? Turns out the best time to teach people magic is between the ages of 11 and 18. And I will be damned if I give any kid access to magic before they are at least 16. A wand can be a deadly weapon and have far more consequences besides. So the way we're setting up. The Message of God The Creator private school is a set of buildings taking up 3 city blocks. A free daycare, elementary, middle school, and high school. Everyone will be taught science or given safe science toys from kindergarten up and be taught meditation. Elementary school they get the appropriate language classes to make systems of magic easier and the requisite chemistry, engineering, bio sciences, and astronomy. From middle school up there will be non-mandatory "Religious instruction classes" during these classes are when we start teaching magic, integrated with their other studies. Potions only and in lab conditions only for 11-15, wanded subjects from 16-18.

Delyna and Rosala tried to convince me to do something very very different. I'm sat down in the principal's office but no one is behind the big desk right now we are all sitting around a small table. This isn't a power on their part play this room just has all the necessary files and the nicest chairs. Delyna brings up her issues first.

"Kids can't be trusted with operational security" Good, she's on my side we can mothball this whole plan.

"Great, then we can skip this whole school thing for a few years or just let the Dunmer learn from their parents or homeschool in magic until then." I start to get up, I am sat back down.

"We need to begin instruction now if we want to be able to spread magic and esoteric science as a unified whole and we need humans interacting with Dunmer to socialize our kids and to get humans used to magic. It needs to start young and start now. Lower education doesn't start until September. It's still august. We have the schools and the paperwork done, why are you fighting us on this." Rosala makes some good points but I do have a counter.

"It's fucking creepy. School comes out of nowhere and is looking for students a month before the school year starts. Sounds suspicious.The fact that their parents would even trust us with their kids is fucking creepy and I don't like it. Besides, if they aren't any good at magic, how will it help them. " This is the kind of thing that turns into an urban legend.

"It's for kids in Merchant territory, even if they only pick up how to fix cars and write essays it is a better chance at education than they would otherwise get. To address the creepy point. Yes, yes it is but we already have over a thousand applicants. The schools are built to hold four thousand. There are a lot of people the system has failed and no matter how bad we might end up being we're likely better than nothing and cheaper than childcare." Rosala displays an uncomfortable level of understanding of the situation in Brockton.

"Sure but then we hold off teaching magic except as an afterschool program." I rally and try to minimize not just chance of exposure but chance of explosion. Delyna pipes up again.

"When I said kids are bad at opsec I didn't mean just human kids. They'll talk too. We can't have them going to other local schools and still expect them to keep the secret, but we can't homeschool them and expect them to learn Earth cultures fluently enough." I think Delyna is less on the 'don't open the school for another year' plan than I'd hoped.

"So what's your plan?" Please don't have a plan. Delyna pulls out a sheaf of spell diagrams.

"We bind them from speaking with compulsions." mind control enforced gag orders, somehow she has something worse than no plan.

"NO, not just no but fuck no. I will not force kids to be silent about what happens in their class. I trust my people now but what if one of them is abusive or shitty to the kids, or if folks start bullying in the magic classes? There is a lot of potential for cruelty in classes where teenagers are baring parts of their souls. I won't have it. No. Come up with a new plan." I do have some authority here. Unfortunately Rosala rallies.

"We could insist on a full medical and Magicka scan and partial emulation for every child that comes in. cut the potions classes for middle school. I suppose we can just double up later, and make sure we only let kids into the magic program if divinations and mind reading show they are likely to keep the secret. Plus we have a way of seeing if someone has broken an oath and doing so from a distance. We have contract paper made that can drop a delayed curse. We hit them with a forgetting spell if they tell unauthorized persons and then review their case when next we see them to see if it was justified and maybe reverse it." Ok mind reading someone once instead of constant master effects . Better but still not great.

" No one in your world has anything like HIPAA do they?" She looks it up on her cell phone.

"No. No we do not. Besides, schools can demand physicals for extracurricular sports anyway. We just require it for these particular non mandatory activities. Also, you're ok with teaching pre-teens how to build lasers but not wield wands?" She seems confused at the idea. She might have a point but I insist there is a difference.

"First of all they need money and parts to make lasers, second with the things already on the net they can and often do build explosives, the key is it takes a while and leaves evidence parents or peers can detect. I am not ok with eleven year olds capable of being invisible, unlocking literally any unwarded lock, or vanishing inconvenient evidence." I shudder at the thought and Delyna joins me.

"He has a point. I think I might not be able to back you on that one Rose. It takes a certain kind of kid to be able to be trusted with craft at that age." Plan No School is picking up steam! ROsa looks pissed though.

"Fine! When I took this job you said you wanted to give these technologies, this knowledge to everyone in the world! Uplift all races!" Ouch, right in the morality. Having ehtical arguments with a trained priestess who is a scholar of my personal moral code is not fair.

"I do, I just want to do it responsibly." She softens somewhat, her faith reaffirmed.

" I'll start working up a system of non invasive magic contract tells and minor compulsions that next semester we can use to make sure the kids can still talk to their parents and peers about possible class problems but still keep the secret of magic until next year." I think I can manage to bear this but I am worried.

"Why next year?"

" By next year Tabitha predicts we'll have enough transferable electronic materials and enough low hanging fruit tech wise to send spellbooks and theory guides to everyone in here and on Aleph. That will just happen. WIth 2000 people some fuck is going to put it on the net and spread it or just xerox copies and drop them off offline here and there. We need to get ahead of the curve if we want to break the news more gently before the first wizards this world sees are the sort of people who try untested blueprints they find on the net." We are so boned.I run my fingers through my hair and definitely don't start pulling it in frustration.

"Ok, ok cool. Cool. What are we doing for regular faculty anyway?" I know secrets have a half life but I didn't think it would be this short. Delyna surprisingly has the answer and nor Rosala.

"The sheer number of qualified expert and unemployed teachers and folks with mechanical certifications enough to take apprentices if only they could afford to renew licenses or pay union dues is frankly staggering in this city. Part of it is the spillover from Academia in Boston, part of it is the Asian Diaspora, part of it is the economic crisis and massive amounts of institutionalized racism. Take your pick. We have enough teachers on deck that if we can afford them we could have 3000 students and a class size of 8." There are 375 out of work teachers, minimum. I think about it for a moment. Ok that tracks.

"How the hell are we affording that?" Rosala hands me a budget sheet.

"Money laundering, off the books medical care, off the books auto repair and, if you recall, in Utah, an actual silver mine and recently they "Struck Oil" There are more than 6000 wells in Utah. Buying up a dry one and using "Proprietary Technology" to 'launder' crude from the fuel station is dead easy." Right, there is an entire ass town funding this along with all of the comparatively worthless gold we mine as a side effect of mining exotic materials.

"I am still appalled by how easy making a school is. We're not even hiding anything except where the money comes from. We're out and out saying 'Yes we are randos with no track record or accountability but we have very shiny computers. Please give us your children and we will teach them with a side of possible insane religious indoctrination.'" I hate that this whole thing is above board. Above school board? Rosala pats me on the shoulder.

"Don't look at it as suddenly starting a school with neither expertise nor accountability. Look at all the schools and realize they have no obligation to have expertise or accountability. At least the training we offer provably works and the jobs they are promised on graduation actually exist!" I blink a moment.

"I hate that you're right. How often are you going to need me personally to teach to make up for the lack of early life learning." Rosala starts gathering up the papers.

"Two, two hour classes a week plus an afterschool lab."

"For 16 and up?"

"The lab and one of the classes, yes. 11 and up for the others. You'll be teaching lab safety, low level theory and proper procedure. If there is anything we want to use the super teacher power for it's how not to blow yourself up and fundamentals."

"I think we can agree on that. Ok, I will schedule it around my other classes." Delyna speaks up again.

"Is there a reason you don't have a secretary?"

…

…

"No." She smiles and ruffles my hair. Hey lady messenger of god here, some respect?

"I'll start vetting some candidates then." She smirks.

"thanks."

Next day, no classes! Instead doing big magics! Myself and 22 other casters for a total of 23 (apparently prime numbers and powers of 2 are very useful for magic) We're doing a grand ceremony, large enough to cover a small city in the middle of the desert. The land adjacent to Silverseam is being fideliused. The city needs to expand but for tax and surveillance reasons as well as avoiding Watchdog we want the compound and maybe some outbuildings to be the only known things in Silverseam. Little incorporated company towns dot the prairie all over the US so a "town" having a population of thousands but only maybe eight families living there full time is a legal fiction the midwest is familiar with.

We've figured out something about the Fidelius. The caster(s) and the Secret Keeper all retain memory, only the Secret keeper can actually "tell" someone. But telling can be done remotely by writing it on a slip of paper. Furthermore Even though they can't email the secret, a recording of them telling it played back over the phone works just fine. The passcodes for the phone number to hear the recording are changed frequently. All I know is I spend about an hour a day listening to people tell me what places and objects we have that exist while I am practicing my spellwork. Also if the secret keeper dies the spell ends 64 hours or so later unless it is re-cast in that window with another keeper so people who are secret keepers are usually older folks who don't get out much and so will be behind wards and guards much of the time anyway.

I am going to head down the street to Mr Laborn's new place. Maybe getting hit in the head will knock something loose.

I roll up to the gym and see the place is actually doing decent business. Mr Laborn is by the heavy bags teaching someone how to punch without hurting themself. I wave and call out, he waves back and motions for me to wait. I head to what passes for the office and get myself a membership and find out when I can get one on one teaching and when sparring hours are.

After a little while he comes up to me, wipes his hands on a towel and shakes mine.

"Good to see you boy. You get over your flinch." He fakes a jab toward my face and I block it without flinching.

"Good work, but where you been training? I'd have heard if it was anyplace local. And can't no one teach anything about fighting in that gym you work for." he sizes me up.

"Answer to both is basically the same. I took the summer to travel cross country. Picked up some money along the way doing some security and being a backup bouncer in places."

"Good way to see the word. Not as good as the Navy, teach you discipline, but I guess you're your dad's kid. Go change, we'll see what you've learned" He claps me on the shoulder.

"I'm sorry what? You know my dad?"

"You're Bobby Love's kid aintcha?"

"My Dad is Robert Czilovich if that's what you mean."

"Yeah him, fought as Bobby Love back in the day. We went a few rounds from time to time."

"How do you know they're the same guy?"

"He the only old white dude sits in on Mr Jian's tai chi in the park?"

"Yeah,"

"Then that's him all right. 'Sides how the fuck many Jewish boxers live in this town anyway, even before Marquis left?"

"Ok, fair, but why Bobby Love? "

"You think an announcer here can pronounce Czilovich? Hell he went by Lovich for a while until someone said love-itch made it sound like he had crabs. So he was just Bobby Love. We hung out a couple times too. Got up to some shit."

"Oh? I didn't know he ever really boxed semi professionally."

"Yeah man, before Hookwolf took over all the fights we'd both go out. Only way we could beat up smug peckerwoods and get paid for it. Ended up sitting in the same restaurants since a bunch round here still segregated, didn't cater to your type either if they knew, and he always wore the little cap, even when fighting. Kippot right?"

"Yep"

"His daddy just about lost his shit when he took it off to start dating ol' Mrs. Lu. Course she wasn' old then." He nudges me with his elbow. "Couple things been different you could be Mikey Lu. Guess he kept it off. Ain't seen him wear it since then."

"You guys talk often?"

"Na just wave when I'm goin runnin at the park and he's doing that slow motion dancing shit."

"Come on, change and get in the ring and we'll see what you learned."

I change and get in the ring. While I am changing I dial down my strength and set things up to simulate reactions to being damaged. If nothing else it will help if I'm attacked in my civvies.

I get in the ring and he purely whups the hell out of me.

"What happened boy? Your footwork used to be your only good skill. You're moving into the hits and not away."

"Yeah bad habit. Learned how to stop people punching others and push them out of doors. Got my feet planted and move to stop the blow."

"Least you don't fall down cryin when you get hit in the face. Toughened up. Let's shake the rust off of ya see if you can learn how to move again."

After about an hours instruction I don't' just have my previous skill back but I'm well past the beginner level. Super learning powers go!

"Damn if you don't learn fast though once you stop being afraid of learning. Rest up, fifteen minutes I have you fight my boy Brian, you're about the same size and age." I look at Brian, he's a kid.

"Old man I'm 19! He's got to be what, 12?" He gets up and yells.

"I'm fifteen you asshole"

"Ain't neither of you grown til you can drink and til you can whup my ass. Get in the damn ring."

We touch gloves and start. I'm a C, B- boxer at best, better if I use my neuromods but I am trying to learn here not win. Brian is all A's all the way. It takes a lot longer than his dad and we're both still standing when the time is up. I can't (and won't) turn off my super stamina or my regen. But Mr Laborn says Brian would have one on points if this were a match. We touch gloves again and go change and shower. Mr Laborn pulls me aside after.

"Boy, you juicing? Doping? I heard about that gym of yours and you got a lot more fit these past couple months."

"No sir. Didn't want to deal with Chaz and his bulshit. Part of why I left sir." he looks over my arms and legs for needle tracks subtly but I notice anyway.

"Good, don't start that shit."

"Yes sir Mr Laborn. Sir!" I salute him.

"Don't be pulling that shit if you aint served." he smiles anyway. "Now you get. Maybe my boy can give you boxing lessons in exchange for you doing some tutoring. His grades aint all they could be and I know you're a college boy."

"I kind of have a full plate sir. School, job and a girl. But for my job I'm working teaching basic mechanical physics part time at the new school that opened up a few blocks up. I could recommend someone there."

"That place on the up and up? Seems it got built pretty quick."

"Yes sir. They're a religious school so they already had funding and all their paper in order."

"What kind of religion?"

"Some kind of Zoroastrian I think."

"They still follow the good book?"

"I've seen some of them around the place and I know they have at least one class that uses it as a textbook so I guess?"

"Went to a lot of services back in the Navy. Jewish, Protestant, Catholic, Muslim, Mormon, pretty much all the same speech. Treat people right and have some self discipline. I got a baby girl you know? Just got custody from her momma this month so she aint enrolled in school yet. Her momma, she ain't in no shape to raise a kid but Aisha she's a little hellion. She needs some churchin up and some rules. They got good ones?" I have no idea how to answer this. On the one hand I know they're good people and trying to do their best. On the other hand I know where the money comes from. On the gripping hand one thing wizardry will teach is self focus whether you want it to or not. I hope dithering this long just makes me look like I am thinking it over.

"Well sir I think they're moral people and they've done all right by me. A little weird but you've been around the world, different places have different traditions."

"Other school's too far to walk and he busses in this town are shit. This way I could walk a few blocks and pick her up myself. This isn't a safe town. Mostly them blue folks there?"

"The Dunmer, yeah, they're good people, just got on the wrong side of a cape, could have been a lot worse." He nods sagely.

"Something on the news about silver turnin your skin blue? That the truth?"

"Apparently but you'd have to drink or inject it."

"Ok, well you get on I'll figure out a time you can show me around I can see folks face to face."

"How about Tuesday evening sir?"

"Stop calling me sir boy, my parents were married."

"Ok how about Tuesday evening Mr Laborn?"

"That'll do"

Fuck, now my dad is going to know I am already in town.

"Mr Laborn. Can I ask you a favor?"

"Depends, what is it?"

"Can you not tell my dad I'm in town yet. He'll tell my mom and my girl and I are just setting up our new apartment and neither of us wants to deal with that for about another week."

"He won't hear it from me, but you better watch y'self, old folks gossip. Good thing you changed your dress sense and put on a few pounds. I'd have barely recognised you if I didn't know it was you coming."

"Gotcha, stay indoors more. Twist my arm why don't you?"

"Come in next week with that sloppy footwork I'll have Brian do just that."

"Thanks Mr Laborn."

"Go on and get out. I got other folks need teaching"

I leave, smiling. It really did clear my head.

Words. 93,085

Chapter 37: Chapter 36

Chapter Text

POV Craft Maker Shard

CM: [EXCITEMENT!]

QA: [MODERATED DISBELIEF]

CM: [ASSERTION]

QA: [SKEPTICAL RESPONSE]

CM: [DATA!!!]

QA: [BEGRUDGING ANALYSIS] … [RELUCTANT PRAISE]

CM: [REQUEST]

QA: [EXASPERATED COMPLIANCE] [HOPEFUL ANTICIPATION] [INFORMATION]

CM: [EXCITEMENT!]

If one were to translate this into a less accurate but more human perspective it might go something like this.

CM: Queen! Queen! Queeeeeen! I found a THING! It's a Thing and I found it! It could be the end of the cycle!

QA: Is this like the time you found supposedly perpetual motion observing some youtube videos?

CM: NO!

QA: Or the time you thought that humans had methods of preserving their personas past the removal of their physical forms as translucent echoes that can be captured by proton streams.

CM: That looked really real! But no.

QA: Or the time you woke me up because you saw, and I quote "A really neat leaf?"

CM: NO! I didn't see any of this on TV. I saw it in real life and my host experienced the relevant qualia! And it's better than a leaf!

QA: Ok, what is it then. My primary host is still dormant and my secondary hasn't come on line yet so I guess I have the time.

CM: I saw real negentropy! The reversal of proton decay without apparent energy input! We checked, we used tools and science and also we licked it. It's real!

QA: Send me the relevant sensorium.

CM: Sends

QA: Ok, you may actually have something. I say may mind you. Entities! After all of these eons on all of these worlds the one who discovers the secret of the universe might be you of all shards, here of all places. But I suppose it means the great purpose might end. I'll actually have to look up what happens if we actually succeed just in case. I'll get back to you. In the meantime I am sending Inference Engine to check your work.

CM: Yay! Friends!

QA: Entities, you two deserve each other.

CM: Magitek truck go BRRRRRRRRRR!

POV Micah.

When I told Mr Laborn I wasn't juicing I was technically correct. But after this weekend that will be a filthy filthy lie. I only have so many days before I am back at school so any body mods I want to make I have to make now. I can hold off training with Mr Laborn for a month while I get used to my new workload and everyone else that might see me hasn't seen me in months. Today I try the Nitrimine augmentation formula. It's going to hurt like a sonofabitch but I'm doing it anyway. We made a few human tests already with the five test subjects we had left. 3, 4, and 5, had no side effects and seemed perfectly fine after a month's observation. They were quietly vivisected for the data they produced. I could feel bad but I guess I just… don't? They were asshole nazis who tried to kill me and mine and after extensive veritaserum questioning we found out had killed several folks themselves and preached for the total extermination of myself, my friends, our families and our children. I just couldn't get too fussed.

I am well aware of the irony of excusing the death of nazis by saying their contributions to science outweighs their lives and they are subhuman. Thing is unlike being a minority, you can stop being a nazi. You can even still be a racist piece of shit and not be a genocidal racist piece of hit and personally a murderer. The slope isn't slippery. The comparison doesn't hold. Rehabilitative justice is in every way superior to punitive justice but I just don't have the time and they aren't worth the effort. Besides, I'm a god damned supervillain. I have the secret lair to prove it, and the gadgets, henchmen, exotic vehicles, weird death machines… wait a minute, holy shit I am a supervillain. What even is my life now?

Anyway, the formula's safe, tested it on bad guys a few of the Dunmer and one of the Merchants have already been augmented and they're doing fine. We've accounted for my augments and if I want to get it done the only real time before next year is now. The stars are right, the stones of power are aligned etc. Some of that is literal since we are magically augmenting the process to speed healing. I get shaved everywhere below the neck by a pair of attendants, then washed in various tinctures and unguents. I get in the chair and get strapped in. Needles pierce my skin, a half dozen tubes of liquid drain into my body and an ampule breaks under my nose. This is not the process, this is just the prep. When the formula is introduced to my system I have to be awake and conscious for the whole thing or else my cognition and voluntary muscle control won't advance with the rest of me. I awaken looking like a porcupine, strpped down so all I can see is the ceiling and the mystic diagrams printed on it as a focus aid. I center myself and give the signal to start.

Pain. From a hundred sites on my body it feels like molten lead is poured into my veins as golden fluid is visible pulsing under my skin. I breathe. I center. The fluid hits my bones and it feels like they shatter as it seeps into the marrow. Where it passes it leaves streaks of fire in my mind. We reach the first stage where it would be safe to stop. The old me, the one who couldn't take a punch, he would call out to stop now. The current me who has undergone several weeks of leukemia by day and being shot by night muddles through it. We reach the second safe plateau of five. I think I can feel every pore on my body and they itch. I can't move to scratch any of them and my guts feel like they are being shredded. We near the third plateau and I ask them to continue. I was wrong. Nope, there is still some part of me that does not like getting hit in the face. Honestly I'm grateful. When my eyes started feeling like they were boiling in my head I tap out. I am too grateful for the lack of pain to be disappointed in myself for only making it through 2 out of 5 of the stages 40%, Not exactly top scoring but fuck it. I can try again next year. On the plus side it will be a lot easier to hide these changes as they are mostly internal. As I pass into blissful slumber I hear one of the attending doctor/mages say "Wait, is that supposed to do that?" and I nearly snap into panicked wakefulness before succumbing.

When I wake up I feel quite comfortable and all of the various puncture wounds have healed. I don't even have an IV. My feet are in a small pool of unidentifiable green liquid though so I'm not sure if this is a good thing. Casimir is standing over me.

"What happened?"

"You remember the plant symbiont that was flushed out of your system about two months ago?"

"Yes."

"Turns out it wasn't."

"So now I am part plant?"

"No, well kind of, you can be"

"I can change into a plant?"

"Not really."

"I am not here to fucking play twenty questions what happened to me."

"Here look at the active scans." I look at the readout he is showing me. All I see are lungs inside me and otherwise it all just looks solid.

"I'm immune to medical scans?"

"Um, no, Here drink this after" He hands me a healing potion and positions a mirror at an angle above my belly so I can see him work. He slices into me and all there is inside is an undifferentiated mass. Some bits are harder, mimicking the effects of bones, some bits are softer. It's all a deep purple red of a healthy liver with speckles like stars of EDM, Mithril, Nitrimine, and something else I am unfamiliar with.

"Potions still work on you as do various inhalants but the only way we have been able to get liquid chemicals besides nutrients into your system is to soak it in through your pores over time."

"So to get drunk I'd have to bathe in beer or somehow vape alcohol."

"Yes, but don't do that."

"What about my brain?"

"You're looking at it. All of you is capable of mimicking the functions of all of the rest of you. The lungs are just cavities, there aren't any organs to take out." I try to take a deep breath and then keep breathing in when I feel my lungs are full. Eventually my chest swells a bit. And when I talk I have a deeper voice.

"Ok this is fucked up."my voice and my shape return to normal. "Do I shapeshift or anything?"

"Not that we've found."

"Heal faster?"

"Sort of, not faster than your previous regen you just aren't harmed by being hit anyplace in particular, you won't bleed except for via crushing damage squeezing the juices out of you unless you want to. You seem to be creating saliva or mucus just fine and your other samples seem normal. Plus you defecate a great deal less and they come out as these compact, dry cubes." He holds up what is apparently my poop and it is a black cube with grey flecks that makes a light klonk noise when it hits the table.

"I literally shit bricks?"

"Apparently, it turns out it is a similar adaptation to the wombat for minimizing waste."

"Wombats poop cubes."

"According to our research, yes."

"So my body isn't doing any thing that organisms don't do, just not things humans do. I'm some kind of cross between a starfish, a fungus and a wombat."

"Looks like."

"But I can still eat, drink, and all the equipment works."

"Yes, Chosen."

"I am not going to ask how you tested that, I trust you all are medical professionals. I do want to know how long I was out for though."

"Three Days." With all of our potions and prep we were expecting about a half hour. I breathe and center myself.

"Well then tell someone to roll the boulder off of the entrance to this cave. I'm heading to the hot tub and going to pour a few cups of wine in there with me."

"Yes Chosen, you may not wish to, you will stain everything red."

"Vodka then"

"Yes Chosen, at once" The doctor washes the green glop off of my feet and I get up and head to the hot tub for a much deserved soak. Ahira meets me there.

"That was so exciting! Seeing you open and changing, watching you materially ascend towards the true flesh. They called me in when things started going south in case you needed emergency cybernetic assistance again. Watching you , seeing inside you was glorious!" I have no idea how to parse this information but at least she seems happy, and very handsy. "It feels just like normal skin with none of the tactile homogeneity of synthflesh, but it's so springy and strong."

I am being thoroughly groped in a jacuzzi by my sexy girlfriend and she is hot and bothered over my body, yet somehow it's nothing like I dreamed. I'm overthinking it. I'm just going to enjoy this and answer what questions I can. She is sticking her finger in my ear and looking up my nose.

"Casimir said your lungs were just for talking, that you can respire through your skin now. How does that feel?" I honestly don't know I've been breathing out of habit and because breathing exercises calm me down. Attempting to hold my breath still leads me to stop and breathe through my nose or open my mouth after a few minutes. I have a clever plan.

"You know what I can think of a better test. Stand up." She obliges and stands in front of me. "Now when I duck, put your hands on my head and keep me down unless I tap your hand." I put my hands up in the air and dive underwater, leaving one of my arms to the elbow sticking out of the tub to function as a snorkel. The rest of me stays occupied and distracted underwater by focusing on Ahira. She sometimes loses her grip due to distraction but otherwise grabs my head pretty tightly. I can confidently say I can hold my breath for an arbitrary amount of time so long as a significant amount of me is exposed to breathable air. For all that my super learning only gives me moderate skills compared to his omnicompetence, at least I know I can do one thing better than Batman.

Words 95,201

New Perk:

Brain in the Butt (Donkey Kong Country) (300CP)

You can transfer the location of your internal organs and other bodily systems such as your brain to other places within your body. And it won't disrupt your normal bodily functions (unlike a certain croc who went from psychopath to dimwit when his brain slipped down to his tail).

AN:

Between the perfected super soldier serum, chemical enhancement, the magitek perk, HPMOR regen and resilience, his Lilo and Stitch invulnerability mods and the symbiont still in his system. I decided to just mix them all into this.

Chapter 38: Chapter 37

Chapter Text

POV James "Sunny Jim" Olivia

Archive Backup in case of Mindwipe for the week of Aug 21 2008

HIPAA warning. Includes personal and emotional observations for emotional resonance check. All of such are to be rephrased and redacted before entering into "hit by a bus" file for successor. Spreading of these notes to anyone besides assigned therapists or James Oliva is a violation of medical security.

Finally saw the last I dotted and T crossed on the refugees from the silver mine. First fucking thing most of them did was go back to a silver mine, even after the last one turned them all blue. Some folks are like that. At least they chose somewhere warmer than whichever of the -istans they left. Natalie nearly got carpal tunnel just from getting everything situated and integrated. Girl says she wants my desk but she's lying to me and herself.

Finally everyone is back home from CA23S. Of our half a dozen field agents we sent to look at the California case, she was the one that succeeded and better than that, she managed to turn it into an asset to close another case. Boss got the call in early May that the labor and material flux was due to happen in mid July. We had to send everyone but little ol me out into the field. We knew they were coming, we knew they were carrying a warehouse full of cannabis along with some other kind of payload that could cause economic disturbance but we couldn't get a hold of where they would come through so we sent folks along the mainsHad to play zone defense all along west blue.

Nat had Green, Jamie Red, Ava and Jackson practically fist fought over who would get purple and who would get pink. I made them choose window raindrop contest. Ava won, got purple. Hark was stuck with yellow, they came in last and RHIP. Receipts from along those routes are normal and probably not fraudulent even if there is no trail. Having to work out expense reports for thinker/strangers is yet another goddamn reason Nat does not want this job.

Personal related note. On scene you placed a small memetic hazard (skew not BLIT) on the parking ticket pad of officer Brandenberg badge 358 because he was a little too handsy processing some of the refugees and also fuck him that's why. If you no longer remember why then you have lost emotional context or memory for late July. If you no longer remember placing this hazard your personal info quarantine has been compromised. If you know exactly why and it's still funny you pre-committed to doing it again. If you have not, check for possible mastering. Personal note ends.

We had hits on green, purple and yellow. Yellow turned out to be another gold from seawater jackass who wouldn't know a commodities market if it bit him. They have been sent to help out with tinker materials at site 16 and given a reasonable pay grade. No one triggers with money making powers that actually understands money. At least we got the goofy fucker away from the Elite. Purple was a master with a Ponzi scheme. Green was labor wealth and material. Big old warehouse full of trained labor assets with high internal cohesion and trust along with a shitton of pot. It would be unlikely but two thousand people all with experience working with a tinker, significant education, and ability and desire to provide intergenerational wealth for one another is likely the bump we saw. They were diverted to Utah where most of their labor would be absorbed into making their environment liveable, easing our and slowing the spread of material until there are enough social and economic interdependencies to probably keep us from any weirdness.

Personal Note. I wish I had never fucking narced on Randal. Ok no I don't, fucker was going to kill us all but damn he made this look easy and got it done quick. The man could plan, but the plans had no slack to account for being performed by humans and no resilience vs black swans and other fowl play. The more resources put behind plans like those the more catastrophic it is when they inevitably go tits up.

Ending world hunger is great but not if it requires everyone up and down the chain to be smart or at least follow orders. Even if you have everyone's buy in, information degrades Randy you dumbfuck. Bet the little shit never played telephone as a kid. Fucking grand irony turd burgler calls himself Accord now and hs people Ambassadors. He might be the least diplomatic motherfuckers I have met and he has never once reached an accord with any goddamn body that wasn't do exactly as I say to six decimal places or fuck off. For someone who insists on precision that is stretching the definition of accord to the breaking point.

Fuck that guy, fuck him in his smug little mask, but damned if I don't miss him. He could plan, others could figure out wiggle room, then he could shit himself in apoplectic rage when the plan didn't happen like he wanted and the circle of OODA could continue as god intended. He got the boot, I got this chair, If you don't remember that you haven't even done any studying of declassified headlines and thinker profiles so you might as well shoot yourself in the head, you did not do the homework necessary to impersonate me and agents are probably using you to feed false information to someone. My only comfort as I am probably dead is that you'll be locked in a very small hole for a very long time for "security reasons" and I have friends inside. Good luck fuck-o. Personal note ends.

Someone breached Gallup. Our trickle source of ontologically reactive mats just became a goddamn flood so we can field more gadget for our agents but it means we've had a lot more boomerang goods out there. MOstly jerks re-selling the same cell phone several hundred times but no big hiccoughs low end shit. Put out a call for it though so we can make more watcher watches. Reports from inside indicate that a tinker solved the people's vanishing problem and they are now trying to solve the involuntary quarantine problem. If they succeed, theft is going to spike impossibly high but on the other hand secure conference rooms might be able to be actually secure. Boss's problem, not mine, but it explains why the useless box is on my desk, will also explain about 30% of why the Boss is having recursive thinker headaches.

Got a new kid this week. No name yet. Put them on pigeon filing feeding for the Auspex machine. She's got Murphy, Finagle, and Sod and cleaning their cages and gold pecker sheathes. Taught her how to use the partial matcher and did their first round of BLIT resistance training. No seizures but still froze and had migraines for the rest of the day. Got the new kid when we had to fire Jace our previous probie from a cannon into the sea when we found him looking at his balls in the bingo basket to choose ones that were "More Random". Ava broke his fingers and has been given the appropriate administrative punishment of a one day suspension with pay and a fifth of good scotch. The new scrapes and cuts on your left foot are from the new issue Vegas-true RNG, can't sand them so they cut like a bastard and go through cheap shoes like nothing. Once again I petition for the quaternary DMD to be discontinued and once more I get full buy-in from the field teams and one more we are told to piss up a rope.

Personal note, You knew Jace was a fuckwit when he compared his thinker power to always winning at minesweeper. You fucking hate minesweeper, it gives people false ideas about how easy it is to deduce truth from evidence. Only good thing it does is teach kids that you can play perfectly every time and you'll still sometimes have to just pick at random and get blown up. If you don't remember hating minesweeper you have either matured, forgotten what naval intelligence is like, or actually made progress with your court mandated therapist so when looking at previous records and this one it is not a good indicator of mastering. You can think about it now without the bile rising to your throat, and you've been convinced of its use in early computers as a way of teaching how a mouse works, much like solitaire. If you still hate the game with the burning passion of a fiery star you're backsliding and get your meds checked. That or we got another probie who thinks they're Sherlock Holmes.Personal note ends.

Nameless probie is good people, earnest. So either she's a plant or you're going to be holding another one's head while they puke their morals out or stab someone in about a month or so. Sensory thinker, audio stranger, low end master can sense through any shadow that touches her shadow, throw their voice, and exert about 5 pounds of force on a single point about the size of a quarter within that shadow mass. Training has been able to make that point smaller and the push harder. They are not going to enjoy their first kill. It will not be a heat of battle in an us or them moment. It's going to be unseen from a distance but having to sense what the victim is going through in full smellovision. Worst of both worlds. Let's hope surveillance and talking shit on people to start fights in bars feeds the passenger enough fuckery to make sure they don't need to for a long while.

Personal note, get probie a fake ID and introduce her to the wonderful world of "Let's you and him fight" so we don't wake up one morning to find an abusive husband with a hole through their eye into their brain in the next couple months.

Fuck I hate this place. Making a parahuman agency that is supposed to stop people using their powers is the most ass brained idea in the goddamned world but it beats out all the other options. Sometimes I miss NURO then I sober up. Personal note ends.

In other news r has figured out some more conditions about T/S stack priority. Strangers that attack the squishy brain meats around the gemma and perform MITM attacks have priority vs most precogs tested except for those that project a construct to do their precoging. There are also some good papers on why recursive precognition and vs mode doesn't cause all parties involved to HMC and headaches all around. Chalk another one up on the board for the passengers all have different ranks stack priority theory. One in a win for there may be some kind of non passenger passengers that just do "office work" and one against every passenger has a cell phone theory since it seems like stack priority in recursive thinker chess requires geographic proximity beyond what was previously believed.

No data on if repeated stress, training, or effort can improve a person's stack priority but strong evidence that feeding the little fuckers more blood of other people works. Can not be taken freely, must be against the other person's will. Resources can work as a proxy but only when their loss would mean a kick to someone's lower Maslows. God that's depressing. Passengers have been found that blood feeding will not help but they universally lose all priority conflicts.

Nat says I'm only here because I want the Boss's chair. I do not. At least one day a week for the poor sod is finding the right folks to throw into the wood chipper to improve stability. I do not want the responsibility of choosing who to throw into the volcano for our economic prosperity. I know, I know we're a slave society, no ethical consumption under capitalism but arranging a motherfucker to get pulped and live through it just to feed the need is not something I want to have to do. Hypocrisy thy name is Jim.

The reason you have Nat and fieldwork on the brain right now is you had to call her in today. Reports from Gallup, what few we can get past the military, say that a lot of ontological material is being moved by the Dunmer. Guess who has to go to Utah? Nat is not a fan, but she has the most experience with the group already so it should give her stranger powers a major boost.

Plus side, she gets a pair of normal handlers and a decent budget. She also gets Aphasia to run cape interference (not to toot your own horn but the team that came up with pairing worthwhile Watchdog stranger agents with Protectorate "Publicly Known Strangers," the dumbest concept ever on par with "world famous secret agent", to absorb flack are goddamn geniuses). Minus side, she is almost certainly going to have to go at least partial makeup on this. A citrine skin tone is not well suited for blending with silver smurfs, tanning won't help. Yes it's outside of our usual range for this office but she seems to be the only person in North America that speaks any of their language or knows the slightest bit about their customs or naming conventions so she's on loan to Salt Lake City. Somehow they run a dry office there, not even any coffee.

Personal note, try to be like 15% less of a bastard to Nat when she gets back. Personal note ends.

If you are missing a challenge coin that reads "They also serve who only stand and wait" on one side and "consider how your light is spent." and you don't know in great detail how you lost it, you are missing time or you might even be some kind of clone. If you've decided to put it aside and remember why you should step down and report to M/S and therapy immediately.

Your current bugbear is there's not enough noise. Information among rumor in the drug trade should be more lossy and inaccurate due to the necessity of encryption and secrecy but petabytes of knowledge is passing with high fidelity between east and west coasts, almost certainly via sneakernet. Definitely a lot of it is due to Stash and company but the timing is off for some of it. Either the gangs have another tinker with incredible encryption, someone in the government forgot to bribe Toybox, or we may have another teleporter..

Good luck me.

Words, 97,675

Chapter 39: Chapter 38

Chapter Text

POV Sarah Livsey

I want to get out of here, I *need* to get out of here. I can't take any of this anymore. School is going to be a special kind of hell just seeing what everyone really thinks about everyone else. I need to get out!

Inference: Previous social interactions will be impossible. Stress analysis and trajectory of actions indicate escalating pressure from parents.

Outcome: No outlet for stress, no functional allies, no freedom, likely death or incurable depression.

No shit, power. I am tired of being used for money. I can make my own money. Wait, why should I have to spend my own money? I want to get out of here sure but I don't want to be on the streets. Ugh! Look at dad trying to figure out how to make money with my powers.

Inference: choice of stock traders and methods indicate inexperience and over aggressiveness in trading.

Outcome: Watchdog intervention in 2 weeks /- 3 days.

Supplemental: Word and action choices suggest frustration with stock methods and within the next few days will switch to more social and illegal methods of obtaining income through doubling down on previous peripheral efforts.

NO! Taking me to dinner with clients, having "take his daughter to work day" every day and then have me spill everything about them. We've got money, but it's not like we're meeting with the rich and famous. Even if we were meeting them, he can't get me next to them to get enough info too much GIGO.

I'm already at his office enough that folks are starting to wonder if there are problems at home.

Inference: increasing presence at office environment will reduce rather than increase connection and access to superiors.

Outcome: Doubling down plan will go very badly

Dad has something to say.

"Sarah, honey, come here."

Word choice: Honey. Tone incongruous with activity. Meaning: His latest plan is failing.

Joy, it's starting sooner than expected.

"You know those stock reports I had you read? Well, things didn't work out."

Word choice: Lack of specificity in what didn't work out in order to troubleshoot indicates subject realizes he is under investigation by Watchdog.

"So maybe we (Word choice meaning you) should take a look at these?"

Word Choice: these Lack of specificity in description indicates desire not to have plans be overheard by others. This plan is far more immoral but less illegal than the previous six.

I look at the idiotic plan. It is another attempt to get me ingratiated with powerful people, this time via their children, to harvest blackmail material and future business contacts. This might actually work. It's what social climbers do already, so no investigations, and it's a longer term plan. Unfortunately, it means I will take a lot more of the heat if everything goes poorly. He moves to the couch and gestures for me to sit beside him.

"Why don't we sit and look over some of these school brochures?"

Word stress: we, look, sit translation. I you are going to look over these, tell me what they are hiding and go to the one with the greatest blackmail potential.

Dammit dad if anyone is going to be blackmailing rich heiresses it's going to be me. I go to the table and look over the offerings. A dozen pretty brochures Each of them saying more than they mean.

Word Choice:

Learn leadership - word choice, meet the wealthy

Individualized needs - this school is actually juvie for rich kids

Traditional - White, so white they think Irish is a bit ethnic

Non-traditional curriculum - Very highly paid baby-sitters, no actual education provided.

Eclectic studies - Magic

Wait, what was that last one?

"The Throne of God The Creator Academy (An actual messianic cult looking to recruit.)

Our exclusive (Mostly empty) High tech (Actually Tinkertech) Campus is one of the finest (only) facilities to provide their students with hands-on experience (Unpaid labor) in a number of exclusive fields (Playing around with tinkertech and seeing what sticks).

"Our Extensive (Oversized and overfunded) campus facilities house numerous full time experts in their fields (Is being used as an excuse to fund a think tank) with decades of professional experience in Medicine, Education, Humanities, and STEM fields. (A highly illegal think tank)."

The rest of the brochure is entirely lies, or close to it. Until near the end.

"The privacy of our students and faculty is second to none (they actually mean that) and no press or other media is permitted on campus. (We are trying to make it look like important people go here and this is why you haven't heard about it) Our professional discretion in family matters is unparalleled. (Normally this means if your kid gets pregnant or in trouble with the law, we'll hush it up). Special consideration and identity security provided for those with more esoteric requirements (We will hide your kids' superpowers from the PRT)"

Wait, what?

"Late transfers permitted. (Show up tomorrow, we don't care)" I can escape this pit of desperation like right now and not next semester, hell yeah.

"Daddy? Aren't all of these for next year? Their deadlines are already over for this year."

"A mid-year transfer isn't unheard of and the sooner we can see to your education the better. (I want to get you among these rich kids pumping them for information as soon as possible, and I want you out of the house. Your looks are starting to make me nervous)"

Huh, I guess we have similar goals then. "In that case, this one we could transfer into slightly late this semester. Should we go and have a tour?"

"Absolutely sweetie." (Ah, now you won't be looking at me like I'm an idiot anymore, and we'll still be rich)

He is never going to get over that our pool isn't heated like the Rutherford's down the street, or that he couldn't get a new sports car this year when his boss could. Ugh! Money is nice, but there are levels. We could do just fine with an outdoor pool or an SUV. Nobody needs a third Tesla. You won't even let me drive the 'vette until I'm 16. I'm stuck with your old shitty Caddy to learn on. It's not like we're rich rich just comfortable. Besides, this will be a new start with a huge advantage. Can't wait.

POV Micah

Delyna and Ahira have come in now that Cash has cleared me for visitors. Slowly my mind begins to focus again and I start to panic.

"Wait I was out for 3 days. What about Mr Laborn?!" Delyna has a notepad with her and is looking it over. Ahira explains the situation.

"Don't worry told him you weren't feeling well, that you overdid it." Delyna looks up from her pad.

"Doctor Eldri and Miss Malone handled it"

"Who?"

"Dr Eldri is Principal of the Brockton Throne of God The Creator Academy" Well now I at least know the name of the school where I am teaching in a few weeks. Delyna continues for her with more precise context. "Miss Malone is a human educator that has been read in on the situation and is acting as the Director of Admissions for grades 7-9."

"So the tour already happened. How'd it go?" Cash actually pipes up.

"Not bad. Aisha tried to sneak away from the tour a couple of times, but her father was quite impressed when she was caught by school security. Brian seemed interested in the work/study apprenticeships. Mr. Laborn sent his regards and had some liniment related suggestions."

Delyna asks someone outside of my field of vision. "Anything interesting on the scans?" Apparently Casimir has an assistant who I later found out actually performed the procedure under his supervision. The methods of monitoring what was going on precluded being the one to alter what was happening mid -tream. So I suppose it was under his literal super-vision. Delyna looks interested. Nameless doctor replies.

"They are both very strongly aspected to the Shadow, her more than him. He is a Parahuman, she is a potential." I am a bit shocked.

"Well shit. First of all, how do we know that? If they didn't come in for a full physical and just walked through the halls?"

"The bioscanners on the security monitors are faintly ridiculous."

"Any way to make them less sensitive?" I am somewhat worried about the invasion of privacy. Delyna shuts me down

"No, it would increase the chances of friendly fire in the magical and the mechanical defenses, better to know a bit too much and then seal it away from the wrong eyes than accidentally vaporize a child." That's a fair point. Ahira interrupts my saying so.

"Well shit. I am sorry about your HIPAA plan, honey" She pats my shoulder. I think that might be the first time I have heard her swear. "Try to get them into the school, and we'll do what we can from there. Once we get a full workup, we'll see what we can do. If they pass the scans and divinations about secrecy and if they have been mastered, we talk to their dad about magic." I have an objection myself.

"Um, excuse me? Unwritten rules? I thought we were only either letting kids into the secret if their parents already knew or if divination indicated they wouldn't tell their parents which no that I say it out loud sounds skeevy, and I withdraw my objection" I get another shoulder pat and a brief one-armed hug of commiseration.

"We're going to be telling about magic, not his son being a parahuman. The unwritten rules don't cover that." I mean, fair but can you even get technical about the wording of rules that aren't written? Delyna has her own two cents as she looks up from a scheduling app.

"We can probably get that done today."

"Great, what next?" I ask, dreading the answer. Delyna actually looks a bit peeved.

"I came here to brief you, not plan your day. Do I look like your secretary?" I am somewhat taken aback. I look to Cash for support.

"Do I have a secretary?"

"Yes, yes you do." he grins widely.

"I thought I was supposed to get a choice of a few candidates."

"That was before you were knocked out for two days, and we needed someone to handle your ... everything in your absence."

"Alright, who is it?" the nameless dread washes over me again. Don't be Turil, Don't be Turil don'tbeTurilhe'sverynicebutNO!

"Feran" Oh, that's actually pretty great, I know him, I trust him, and he understands human society and the importance of work-life balance. Good going whoever did this! I put on a smug grin of my own and address Delyna.

"To answer your earlier question, then. Yeah, you kinda do, but only in that way couples start to look alike and also because he clearly dresses you." I look her up and down, she is in a far more professional outfit than her usual flamboyant choices or her absurdly severe security garb. She blushes incandescently. I am clearly shaking off the effects of sedative and getting sharper as something occurs to me.

"But if he's doing secretary duties, then who's watching the potion factory?" Delyna is on this one, I can already see security maps of various facilities over the edges of her pad with names appended.

"Which one?" excuse me?

"Which one? How many do we have?"

"Three. One in Silverseam, one in Papillion, one in Brockton." It's been a busy three days, but then again building drones don't need rest.

"Papillon then," she taps her stylus a bit.

"Nepothah," Ah, there's that other shoe. I have missed you, acute feeling of dread.

"The one who's just been running around in the fuel depot poking things?"

"Yes, you said she couldn't do that anymore, so she was given something to keep her busy. We do need to talk with you about the bottleneck, though." At least dealing with an alchemical factory is less potentially hazardous than running around poking the antimatter generators. I am kind of beyond verbal right now, and I make a note to get some kind of HR expert or maybe a spell.

"Hm?"

"It's safer than you might think. But the bottleneck is one of the reasons is we're staging down the factory there. There is only so much we can pump in and out of Papillion in a day. We're basically mothballing everything but mining, discovering, and classifying new exotics and their combinations. And our experimental magical research. The potion factory there really is being used to get research materials in bulk. Make potion bases of simple repair, resist, or healing potions for the experimenters."

"Why?" She sighs and massages her temples. She is much more agitated than usual. Then again, head of security when we are about to have hundreds of children running around. I can see it.

"Like I said, bottleneck. There is only one door there and to move anything larger than man portable in or out we'd need you to move it. As is we have it in a portable door frame that we can carry between Brockton and Silverseam without you via potion but if we want to be able to get vehicles etc in and out we'd need you to attach it to a larger place and that means getting access to you personally, and you're overbooked as is.

"Right now, a smaller aperture that can be anywhere is more valuable than a large aperture fixed in a single city. We're going to be asking you for an hour worth of gate fiddling a day but already we're getting close to a level of work that could cause burnout in a few weeks. We're working up a schedule for large and bulk transfers." For a moment, I feel incredibly clever about my choice of who to delegate logistics problems to and how my people are handling them. Then I realize I have had almost nothing to do with their training in managing people. Then again, I realize I legitimately did teach each of them how to manage process flow and modern supply chains and settle on just being proud of both them and myself.

"So, I have to find a way to get more than one portal in and out." She practically barks out her reply.

"NO! you don't. We don't want anyone unauthorized getting in and out. What we have been working on is more easily produced, longer lasting versions of the Undetectable Extension Charm. We can nearly get people to perform it using either potion treated bags or wandless. We can increase throughput this way, you just need to approve a few things" Casimir again takes the floor as this is more his bailiwick.

"Extensive study of the human magical codices you have made, and the listed case histories have noted that wand fit is far more important for humans and their magics. The generic blanks we have been using even though they are higher conductivity aren't providing the amount of power per spell that they should. It takes something like a half a dozen stunners to get the effect that one should have, and the levitation effects are far weaker than should be the case. That fidelius should have only needed seven people, not twenty-three."

"Alright, we suck, what's this in aid of?" First shoe, take two.

"We want permission to do more with the bioscience data you have locked away. We want to try to clone and regrow some of the animal samples we have for making wand cores." Well, we've increased the shoe drop rate.

"Nope."

"But better spells! This could vastly..."

"Nope, not making phoenixes, not making dragons, certainly not making unicorns, nope. If our stunners are as good, we'll make it up by making a device that can shoot six of them. This isn't affecting the Dunmer magics, it's not affecting the potency of potions, and the neutral blanks are much easier to standardize teaching with and to learn precision. Nope, not doing it. If you want, you can work on making synthetic mokeskin for bag efficiency. If we accidentally make mokes they're no problem." A moke is like a 2 inch tree lizard whose only form of defense is becoming a .02 inch tree lizard and running away. I turn to Delyna.

"Send your boy toy in. I'm going to have to chat with my secretary about scheduling apparently, and I only have one more free day before lab nonsense. I want to spend it well." My definition of well right now consists of Goof off, goof off, play with a wooden mech by remote, goof off. Work on a cool car with Sherrel and Ahira since she asked me to spend more time with the Merchant Mechanic. I'm glad she has friends. I worry about her being isolated from home and having only me for emotional support and most of the time I am using her for emotional support. It's kind of not cool, I should do something. Maybe do like she suggested and go on a guy's night with Adam while she and Sherrel talk cars sometime?

Words 100,552 Woo!

Author's note. Decided at the beginning when I hit 100k I will downshift to 100 pts every 4 k. If I hit 200k it will probably downshift to 100 pts every 8 k I don't think I'll need to go past that and also I will keep my goal to have each chapter advance the plot, reveal something important, and be about 2-4k in length.

New Power

Craftsman (Hercules) (400CP)

Greek myth sure does love it's weapons and armors, doesn't it? You're great at making both, now. Not only do you have a preternatural skill at putting together weapons, armor and other artefacts of the very highest quality, being able to work legendary items from common tools and materials, but you're also a whiz at enchanting them. Simply put, you can imbue just about any and all magic and power you have into items, and have it work as you desire. It also helps you figure out existing examples of craft, and replicate the effects on your own.

Well between this and the "have all the materials you want" and the "everything is a masterwork even if you half ass it" perks, it looks like the permanent unseen expansion charm items are going to be up and running pretty quick. Reparo-matics, the ability to load up the Buddies() with magic items since they don't need juice to go. Don't even need to make the magic power cores that Magitek provided to make a new Buddy() type or load up Magic Buddy with. Although if they get enough people studying to be able to have spells cast besides the coloring charm through precision and energy without needing will then that would be much more versatile. Time for some research rolls. Probably going to end up a mix of the two.

Chapter 40: Chapter 39

Chapter Text

Chapter 39

I'm taking some time to get to know my new body and just relax a bit. I have competent people and I have delegated to them. Ahira invited me to a build. Sherrel and Giuseppe are building a 1967 Shelby Cobra convertible from a kit. They've been putting it together since before she Triggered. It used to go slowly due to lack of parts and money. Now it goes slowly because every so often she gets inspired and heads to the next room to work on a new idea. Still the smell of cannabis and motor oil is soothing to her and leading her back to the project at hand isn't too difficult, no full on fugues. Giuseppe himself is moving kind of slowly. He has huge powerful hands that look like he could crush walnuts between his fingers, but he has some trouble getting up and lying down.

Sherrel and Ahira have become pretty good friends, both from hanging out all day every day before we left and emailing and phoning from time to time since. Giuseppe is close to Sherrel and apparently helps smooth things over when she goes off on a tear or starts fiending for exotic materials. A couple of times I see him grab her around the waist and rub her back in slow circles while handing her a recreational gummi. I don't usually partake myself and there are no open flames allowed in the garage, so both "Uncle Joe" and Sherrel vape. Apparently Ahira has built her own vape, and she fills it with sacred meditative incense. I do try some of the CBD gummies though, largely to take away the jitters of tomorrow's big dinner and just calm down.

I wasn't expecting it, but I finally found out what Ahira has been up to in her sealed lab since day two of our trip. She has been working on some kind of inter-reality sensor or tunneler. At first, she worked on it frantically to prove or disprove the contamination of "the Warp" then she calmed down, and I thought she was working on something else in her clean room. Apparently not. She and Sherrel had been working on a plan.

Sherrel wanted to go to space. She always wanted to be an astronaut. She likes making things go fast and the sensation of flying, no matter how she gets it. Turns out she had a pilot license very young and went to space camp more than once before the Hopekiller killed her hope. She ended up devastated. Meeting Ahira, someone who was born and raised in space, rekindled that flame. She has spent almost all of her fugues and moments since their meeting dreaming of stars. The idea behind the Melta tunneler and its sealing of the walls with molten rock was intended as a way of digging sublunar tunnels and keeping the air in. Her cloaking devices had always been made of failed, or maybe just repurposed and refined, radiation shields made to filter different kinds of light. Her junk armor has always been ablative armor intended to break off when damaged too much.

Ahira had been spending her time trying to figure out a way to pierce the wall between Earths, trying to find a way to somewhere the Simurgh can't reach. So far all she has hit is dead ends. The closest she has managed is putting a sphere a few nanometers wide into the local warp and tracking it until it falls into somewhere. We hope the little balls are showing up on other Earths, but we have no real way of knowing yet. Her interdimensional detector is probably working a bit better than her tunneler. We're not certain. She's tested it, and it can detect when my door is active and wherever an expanded space charm that hasn't been cloaked is, but it keeps having small pings off of any Parahuman in its range. We're not sure if it's just confused, or if parahumans somewhere have extra-dimensional portals on or in them. Armsmaster's stuff of course sets it off like a siren. That guy puts extradimensional spaces in everything, but the other capes, hero and villain, trip it too to some degree.

By the evening, we're all lying on surprisingly comfortable roller/creepers and looking up at the ceiling. We roll ourselves along the floor like slow and confused street lugers. We all make a promise. By this time next year, we're going to have a drink on Mars. Even if we have to do it on this earth, we figure out a portal or something. I personally agree to have a "Guys' night out" with Adam at some point in the next week or so. A few color change charms and the walls, floor and ceiling are nearly vantablack with many colored pinpricks of light, we slide around on the floor looking up at the fake sky, feeling like we're on a spacewalk, drifting around.

Eventually phones go off, obligations beckon, Giuseppe is called away first, and it breaks the metaphorical spell. He can't see the door without breaking the actual one, so once we have done a recolor the moment is over. Ahira and I leave together. We go to the temple, use the key and head to our quarters in Papillion. Turns out the old Dungeons and Dragons thing about expanded spaces inside expanded spaces is bullshit, space expansion charms and Builder Buddies have turned our little efficiency apartment into something like a three bedroom ranch. At some point since we no longer need the dorms by the dozen by the warehouse we're going to knock out some of the walls to our neighbors and do a controlled release of the charms once the area is clear, so we can just live in normal space, as normal as space gets in the warehouse.

I have my workbench, she has hers to work on smaller personal projects. We sit on the couch and hold each other close and watch space operas. It feels wonderful, so of course I can't leave it alone. If something seems nice, I have to poke it.

I start with something simple "Hey Ahira?"

"Yes, my Chosen?" She turns to me, ignoring the show.

"We're having dinner with my parents tomorrow."

"Yes." I bite my lip as I say something that has been worrying me for months at this point

"Do you actually like me?" She seemed shocked for a moment, then rallies.

"I love you, my Chosen." She smiles and gives me a hug. I press on.

"Yes, but if I wasn't the chosen of the machine god would you be with me?" She actually leans back away from me and thinks.

"Well you did learn the Mechanicus skillset faster than anyone I have ever seen records of so if I had met you back home we likely would have been in the same classes. Compatible capacities and lack of contempt is a good start."

"Ok, do I not understand or are you evading my question?"

"A little of both? You were chosen by the machine god. He chose you for a reason, but who can say what that reason is. If you were not the sort to be chosen, I don't know what else would be different about you. I am considered particularly emotional, even sentimental, as I have kept my flesh, just modified it, seeking synthesis with true flesh instead of replacement." She runs her hands along my chest. "In that way I admire you, I wish I could meld the two as seamlessly as you do."

"You only want me for my body?" I nervously joke to cover for the world's biggest case of impostor syndrome.

"No, I want your body. Not in a pleasure touching way, but I wish my body were like yours, just with a different aesthetic and capabilities." So she wants to be me? I hope it is in an aspirational way and not a wear my skin as a coat kind of way.

"So you want my body, and not in a sexy way. Do you have a sex drive? You seem not to initiate except when I am stressed out, or I ask." She seems to be on easier footing here.

"I have pleasure senses and I enjoy the time we spend touching a great deal, and doing so makes you happy. It is not meaningfully different from if I were to make you your favorite tea when you are stressed and having you make me some cookies for us to have together. It's nice, but I am still not fully used to interacting in the fleshsphere, so it doesn't occur to me to use it to change my mood. I don't feel any drive towards it but none against it either. I've certainly decided to do it every time and once you developed significant proficiency enjoyed it a lot!" Backhanded compliment but I'll take it.

"I have no idea how to process that information. Making someone you care for a drink because they like it, and you don't mind it seems fine, but this is physical intimacy. It's different, at least in my society. Do your people even do that kind of thing?" This sounds a lot like the retro space show on the TV. The stacked space babe says something like - show me more of this earth thing called kissing. - and they're off to the races.

"Oh yes, several people modify themselves to improve it, people get into relationships, break up, feel attraction, get married, have plural marriages, divorce, the whole spectrum. Ok, well navigators don't. They have to marry other navigators or at least only breed with them, so they have some relationships with those who do not have compatible genitals if they do so outside their specialty. But we have not been entirely physically intimate except in the fleshsphere." Ah so she does have all the various sex stuff on her world. I am not going to ask if she's done it herself as it's none of my damned business. I do have one thing I want to know though.

"Ok, so what would be physical intimacy?" She actually blushes.

"A hardline connection. There are other kinds of intimacy, but that is the most starkly physical. Most dating groups do other things first, although some people will just connect with whomever as a first step to becoming more friendly. There are as many cultures among the Adeptus Mechanicus as there are planets they come from" Silly me for assuming an order devoted to machines would be a monoculture. Show's what I know.

"You said we'd be in the same classes. If we wanted to date what would that be like?" She thinks a moment then speaks in binaric.

"Well we would likely decide to spend free time together and if we both have such capacities take in nutrition together or maybe speak when we are both in the communal elimination area. We would then likely both spend time in the same virtual spaces, discuss philosophy, share designs, gossip about classmates and teachers. Then arrange some time alone either virtually or in person, usually making something together." a few things click.

"Are you and Sherrel dating?"

"By my standard, yes. Aren't you and Tabbitha? I believe she offered your kind of physical intimacy, and you have made many functional and beautiful things together." Brief memories flicker through my head as I try to grasp some context.

"Um, er no. She explained that her offer was clearly out of gratitude and not any actual attraction or desire. Neither of us think of making these kinds of things together in private as dating. Wait does this mean I have a sex cult? I am working on building a lot of things with a lot of people!"

She laughs. "No, no, teachers craft with students and co-workers craft with each other all the time. You've only worked with anyone besides Tabby on things for work or for the community. You and Tabby make personal vanities together." Communal art as courting. Cool.

"So do we, we even made this couch."

"Yes, but we *are* dating, silly. You asked if in this other world where everything is the same including all of your talents and yet somehow you don't have the personal touch of the machine god upon you and are also not getting such things from corrupt powers, as little sense as all that makes." I try to get back into the frame of the earlier bits of the conversation.

"What would happen next?"

"Well, in my particular subculture we would likely share our vanities and personal credits and leisure time and move our spaces closer together virtually. If we were on the same station or ship we would likely move our berths closer if not cohabitate for efficiency and better prosperity for both."

"So wlw U-haul before third base, got it."

"What?"

"Earth reference, it doesn't matter. You said the couple or thruple or whatever would have had connection via virtual space already, and fleshspace isn't often used except by the sentimental. What is a hardline connection? I mean, I know what a normal one is but what is it in terms of physical intimacy?"

She blushes a bit more, and her mechadendrites uncoil from her hair. She whispers closely in my ear in binaric. "We connect our true flesh and process each others' senses together. We try to give each other pleasure until we have other things to do, or we exceed our sensory or processing capacities. Some folks deliberately overclock themselves or each other, but it is important to have a shutdown or disconnect password. Sherrel says you do the same thing here, it's called a safeword."

I am also blushing up a storm. "Um, er, can we do that?"

"Oh, but you only have a dataport in your eye socket it would be a whole lot very quickly, and you don't have dendrites."

"Guide me through making them then"

We spend the next hour convincing the insane amalgam that is my body now to make mechadendrites of my own and to have info shielding between my brain and other outputs. When we're done there isn't any part of each other we haven't gone over in detail for compatibility and specs. We both almost can't look each other in the eye. I have no idea what I am even supposed to do except theoretically. She lifts my chin and our eyes meet. Her dendrites loom large and then push through my pupils and into my neurosystems.

I have words to describe it but they're all in binaric and don't do the experience justice. It's not telepathy, not any more than two experts dancing with each other can seem like telepathy, but we *know* each other physically in a very different way. I can't see myself having a drive towards it on the regular but it was mind blowingly nice. I certainly wouldn't say no to it if it was offered but whoa, it's a lot to process. I am pretty sure I wouldn't do this with Tabby or Turil no matter how cute they are… Maybe Casimir….ok probably Casimir.

I'm panting and twitching and it seems like her systems are running hot as well.

"That was intense!"

"For someone's first time that was very good. I wouldn't object if you wanted to do that again sometime. I remember you offered Adam the upgrades too after a month or so. I think he and Sherrel and probably Jeff would be into it." Excuse me what?

"I don't even know who Jeff is."

"Adam's second boyfriend, the one with the piercings."

"Alright, he is hot, but I know nothing about his personality, and I'd kind of want to have some trust and an emotional connection before doing that with someone."

She cups my cheek. "You're sweet. I think we could have dated in my world. See, this is why you should have a guy's night with Adam, get to know them. You might have fun."

"I feel some kind of way about having sex with my boss."

She simply raises an eyebrow at me.

"It's not the same! the power dynamic is different! Since we've met, you've had the ability to reduce me to atoms if I stepped out of line and I can't fire you. You're the head of your own faith, and you decide what powers I do or do not have over what you do. Skidmark threatened my life and shook me down for a whole lot of money."

She tilts her head and thinks a while. "But his perspective is so hot! I see your point, though. Are you telling me I shouldn't or that you don't want to?"

"I draw the line there. I am absolutely not going to tell you who to screw and who not to. Even if having a relationship in the first place isn't abuse of power, I think that definitely is."

"Ok, then I'm probably going to spend some time with Adam, Sherrel and Jeff. You should give Devon a try. She did practically extort a neural interface out of you. I think she's into you."

"She's a lesbian."

"Only in the fleshshphere." Well she did make me make her an implant. At very least if Imani wants an ocular most of the surgery is done already.

"I am going to have a think."

"Ok! I think you're taking the whole threats of physical violence from Adam thing a bit too seriously. It's not like he has any real hold on you. You're just working for him because he's your friend right?" I slowly blink, flabbergasted.

"Um, I… What?"

"Well, when you met him he said you were valuable, and unrecognized talent. He did his best to keep you safe. He only really got mad when you cost him a lot of money, and he fronted you the money in the first place. He must like you. Plus, it's not like he could threaten you if he tried." I'll have to come back to that later. What hold do the Merchants have on me anymore?

"We're going to have a talk later about what emotional abuse is after I've had a think and some rest. I'll table the idea of the boys' night thing in case for some unfathomable reason you're right." She kisses me on the eyelids, and we go to sleep.

The next morning, I check with Sammy and do some discrete sanity checking. I'm pretty bad at people, so maybe this is just how normal folk relate. After some thorough chats it turns out that No. Adam, although he's a friendly and charismatic guy, meant every threat and was absolutely going to have me killed up until recently. He may have his reasons, but they aren't excuses. He is not my friend and his behavior was abusive and shitty. He's an understandable monster, maybe even one nearly forced into monsterhood but no. Friends do not do the sort of hit he does to friends. Right now I am going to chalk Ahira's view up to cultural mistranslation, but I'm going to have to have a talk with her about what is and is not an emotionally healthy way to deal with things. No, I need someone healthier than me to have a conversation with her about all that, and that person needs to talk with me too. For now, several of my class syllabi are online already so I need to spend an hour or two doing all of the work for the semester before dinner with the parents.

What even is my life?

Wait! No more depression, we have mechs now! I scan my books swiftly and blast through the homework to have an hour or so stomping around Papillion, boxing with others in a giant wooden mech to de-stress before the gauntlet that approaches. It's awesome. It's no cure for my problems but damned if it doesn't fix the symptoms for a day. It's September so sunset isn't that early but it arrives too soon.

Words 103,902

Chapter 41: Chapter 40

Chapter Text

POV Contessa

Wolf-fucking horseballs. Dr Mother is wrong. I don't spend most of my time following the path or even calling up the steps of the paths. I spend most of my time thinking around the paths to try to get them to do the right thing. I've spent several years moving from Path to make sure humanity survives. To Path so make sure Humanity survives with the fewest casualties, to Path to make sure Humanity survives and then continues to survive after the aftermath of Zion. In a hypothetical world where a creature with the same powers as Zion was present and had his agenda and Zion himself was not present, what would be the steps of defeating him? The steps come to me at once, even if there are several thousand, and I have to go through each one to double-check for monkey's paws, and even then the world still ends up being crap. It's like spending days at a time guessing passwords and if you finally succeed the prize you get is a brain full of donkey cum.

At this point, I think much of the problem is I spend significant portions of every day in close contact with someone I can not path. But attempting to get Rebecca or Justin to tell David to fuck off has been met with hostility, and by definition I can't figure out a path to make it work. Path to making David fuck off without ruining all of the other paths always return blank. Path to making a device that would make someone like David fuck off. Path to a phrase that would make anyone fuck off and then attempts to use it on David. Nothing. At this point I am half sure he is a plant from the big gold fuckmuppet here just to fuck with me.

Every time I try to make a path to minimize natural triggers it blows up in my face. I can't see trigger events but from enough distance I can see the rough likelihood that someone, but not who, will trigger in a given situation due to the blind spot that then happens and I can make sure someone is nearby to watch and get us information. Recently Gallup has started showing up on paths again, so whatever Lethe did there might be fading. Recently there have been something worse than dead spots. I only catch them sideways and backwards. Normally it goes something like this.

Path to destroying Leviathan

Step 1: build a structure of levies

Step 2: error, no response.

Path ends

Path to improving the stability of the East Coast.

Step 1 send the following missive to the following companies

Step 2 cause road construction along the following highways

Step 3

Step 4 take the resulting money and invest it in smaller sustainable farms in Pennsylvania

Step 5 set up subsidies to encourage the following senators.

Step 5 a blackmail this

Step 5 b bribe that

Etc.

Now it's really easy to see when it's early like step 3 but when it's buried 914 steps in to a 3000 step instruction set, sometimes I get to the item, and I am at a loss. I know I have to do something. I even know what the result of that something will be. I just have no idea what to do. I know Precognition is no substitute for actual Cognition, but fucking cat anus. That's why we surround ourselves with smart people, so they can come up with good ideas and strategies and the precognition can tell us which ones to follow.

Fucking, flying, dogsucking Dave. With everyone else, I can use Path to giving them whatever they want, so they will leave me alone to think for five fucking minutes. With him it's always Wah, My powers are fading! Oh no, I'm not as good as Hero! I wanna be a soldier! Fucking fucker. He's not on a hedonic treadmill, he's on a fucking turbo powered hedonic hamster wheel. He wins the power lotto and doesn't have to be constantly at work renting his brain meats out to an alien fucking parasite 24/7 and all he does is bitch that he hasn't got enough to do and there are no challenges left then something about weeping for there are no worlds left to conquer. Fuck you Dave. Path to calming down, step 1 door to the following address. Step 2 order jasmine tea. Step 7 order a second scone to go. ARghLBFGRMP! Ok, fuck pathing it. Door to a Starbucks.

It's not as guaranteed to make a decent cup of tea nor is it going to definitely calm me down, but I'll take my chances. I go to the Starbucks. I don't do any pathing just make my order, take a drink. It is supremely mediocre, but it's relaxing. Ok, I'm calm, I'm cool. Door to Cauldron HQ. Path to understanding the step gaps. Step 36 take the number 12 bus to Lincoln, Nebraska. 36 steps worth of gap this time, that's way down from before. Now the double check. Path to being able to successfully make a Path to find out about the path gaps. Step 1. Go to Salt Lake City. Step 2. Purchase all of the silver jewelry available at the following stores. Step 3. Meet up with Watchdog agents. Step 4. Step 6 begin next path. Wait, that was only missing one step. I might be able to figure that one out once I am actually on scene. Oh, Of course it's a Watchdog strike team. That means there is at least one stranger, and so I can't even trust that the path is accurate. AAAUGH! Wolf-bothering vinecunts! Why can't this ever be easy! Right, if it were easy, we'd have Justin do it. He's such a good guy, but not the most inquisitive.

I can't even talk to anyone about this. I can't even have a conversation in my own goatfucking head without my passenger hearing it and making plans. I can't talk to Becky. She's a 16-year-old chuuni complete with cyber eye-patch and never left the "dressing all in black so people take me seriously" phase. Shit. I am no great shakes myself. I've spent the last 30 odd years of my life in my mother's basement playing the world's highest stakes version of "How would Batman beat Superman in a fight?" and writing AU fanfic of real people in order to troll the world's least convincing cosplayer. Path to retaining some kind of mental stability while continuing my other goals : No. Path to avoiding burnout while maintaining my other goals: No. Path to at least surviving long enough to see my goals realized without killing myself: 518 steps Step 1 Self Medicate. Fuck you passenger. At least I won't die by my own hand this week. I can fit another 500 or so steps into my week if I try.

I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. My only solace here is I've been watching the white bird of unhappiness, and she seems as fucked off about the whole thing as I am. She's been flying around in circles then backing off then flying around again. I wonder if Behemoth is as big a pain in her ass as David is in mine. It would just be the kind of irony the superpowered streak of hog piss would come up with if it turned out she and I were really on the same side. Checking the math, she's made more capes than she's killed, and she's killed fewer capes than me. God that's depressing. Path to feeling less maudlin. Step 1: Door to Downtown Hotel's Sourdough Saloon, Step 2: order Sourtoe Cocktail. Step 3 Drink Sourtoe Cocktail. That all makes sense. I need some whiskey and penance, so all this ordering deaths from a distance doesn't make me what death tastes like up close and personal. Step 4: go to the jukebox and play Warren Zevon's Monkey Wash Donkey Rinse. Step 5: get 3 more shots of Yukon Jack. Step 6: Door home. Step 7:go to bed. Step 8 cry.

POV Micah

Those hours between mech fighting and the dinner of doom are jam packed. The best use of my ability to modify my own biology so far has been to get rid of writer's cramp. I had to scribe and sign something like six thousand sheets in a row. Plus side, we think we have a lot of our security issues handled. Once again it is good old ultra specific usually useless human magic to the rescue. We found the formula, by we I mean Tabitha found a formula, for treating ink and paper to make contracts that if someone signs and then breaks the contract it will trigger a curse. Usually a mark of the betrayer or something simple. We have found instead a way to make it trigger other curses and spell effects on the signee.

The research team came up with a plan. Everyone signs an NDA. if they break the NDA or have reason to believe it has been broken against their will they are hit by a forgetting spell that erases the information in question and alerts the folks back at base by turning a token on the contract a different color. We can then send out a team to find out if we were betrayed or if instead a loyal person was being mastered or similar. In many cases this would cause them to completely forget the secret of magic itself although it would in no way prohibit them from re-discovering it and they would have the muscle memory and likely the wand available to do so. It's not perfect but making ways of breaking wands at a distance that can't be co-opted by enemies has been a dead end.

The spelled contracts have some problems. The first one is that each contract has to be one long continuous sheet so it only works either on a simple contract or a scroll. Second is the contract paper has to be soaked in a specific blend of potions. This problem was pretty much solved by buying a press from one of many many out of business print shops or newspapers that are kicking around the east coast. We just get a spool of paper and run it through the potion mix like they would any sort of paper treatment. The problems of making enough ink and scroll treatment chemicals have long since been solved through mass potion creation. Now we get to the big one. The contract has to be hand written by someone with an active magical will and the ability to use human magic reliably. So that's about a dozen Dunmer and me. Luckily I can just program my arm's automatic reflexes to handle it for me but I do need to sit there and just write for hours on end.

I spend a lot of this time messing about with other internal reflex systems now that my augments aren't solely in my arm. I learn how to tapdance, I teach myself to write with my other arm. And then I find something pretty neat. I can modularize some of my brain functions. Normally I wouldn't do anything like this. Messing with the brain messes with everything and most of what makes you you. But my brain already dissolved into soup several days ago so that ship has sailed. Making subnodal brains in my system to assess tasks and complete them if they are flagged as being unimportant let me get most of the work for the rest of my semester in several classes finished with my left hand while the right kept making contracts. A serious flaw is I don't retain any of the information the sub node figures out. I find this out when I try to do the third week's set of homework for fluid dynamics and find the sub node can't and I even can't do it that well when focusing because I am missing some concepts that a sub node learned and forgot from weeks one and two.

Ulain thinks I could bind in some divinatory effects to modify this to have the sub nodes do what I would do if I were in that situation since they already have a strong sympathetic link so I'm basically just using the magical cognition of the divinations to basically put in some client side prediction in my elbows. I tried it out and the results are good but not great. When aided by divinations and subdermal magically reactive exotics the model of my behavior the nodes have access to is fuzzy like any divination. So if I would get a 90 on a piece of homework my nodes by themselves would get an unacceptable 50 or just plain not be able to do the task, but nodes plus divination enchants would get a 75 or an 80. I have become a pretty badass enchanter.

The reason for the imperfect skill copy is twofold. First off I am not a great diviner and I can only have the fidelity I can produce non recursively (I can't use divinations to help figure out how to cast better divinations….yet, I hear there is a trick to doing it and not going mad. Second is I have a full time group of people devoted to protecting me and my stuff from being predicted, from being inside fideliused areas to using stranger effects on various objects. All this dealing with recursive divinations though does reveal to some of the folks in R and D that parahuman thinker powers apparently have some kind of priority schema that is trackable and even in some cases known by agencies like Watchdog. WHen the thinker tries to out-think the thinker there is just an instant simple answer given to both or they just return I can not handle this and crap out. In either case the worst you get is a headache. Magical recursive divinations though, all sorts of bad things can happen so I don't push it too far. If I want to really understand it I ask Ulain.

Those parameters set, I make the modifications I want to my body and set this system to finish out the rest of my schoolwork and much of my note taking for classes so I can have some actual free time in my life. D is for Diploma after all. Soon after though it is the time I have been dreading, dinner with my parents.

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Chapter 42: Chapter 41

Chapter Text

POV Micah

I'm dressed well, but not too well. If I were to wear a dress coat or a tie, my mom would say I was putting on airs, but if I dress in a t-shirt and jeans I'm not cleaning myself up for dinner. I go with the corporate drone standby or golf shirt and khakis known to be inoffensive the world over. Ahira is dressed in a flowing dress that's long but easy to move in over black leggings. She looks like a librarian or a high school teacher, which I suppose she now is somewhat.

The only person here who isn't at all nervous is Ahira. I'm worried about my parents' reactions, mom's worrying about scaring away the only girl I've ever brought home. Dad's worried about something and I can't tell what, but he's definitely more nervous than I expected. With everyone trying to be friendly but also somewhat walking on eggshells, Ahira's natural ebullience takes over and by the time we're having coffee everyone seems to have relaxed. I offer to help ma with the dishes, but dad asks to pull me aside for some man to man talk. I don't think he's ever pulled me aside for a man to man talk before, so this should be interesting. Ahira offers to help and mom says the dishes can wait until after I am done talking to Dad, a guest shouldn't have to work, and she'd love to get to know her more.

I follow dad into what was once my room and is now a sewing room and office. My dad pulls up a chair and motions for me to sit. He asks if I am in trouble. I tell him no, but he doesn't believe me for a second.

"Son, I know traveling costs money, even if you're spending your nights in public parks. I keep my ear to the ground. I know you got pulled into something in Luis's old crew. Don't ask how, I just know. How much do you owe them? Your mother and I have talked, and we're willing to mortgage the house to pay off whatever it is, so you can get out from under. We don't want you getting mixed up in all that. It took decades for me to get out, I won't have you doing the same."

I have no idea how to process this. How long have they known? What is it they think they know? "Dad, I'm already getting myself out. I'm working with the new school now. Everything's legit." He fixes me with a gimlet glare.

"Horseshit boy, That school's got backers to make a mob diner blush. You shouldn't be feeding kids fruit from a tainted tree." I'm a bit hacked off at this point.

"Why not? You did, apparently."

"And I regret it."

"You can't just say no to money for a good cause just because it comes from an evil source."

"Horseshit! They'll use it to corrupt any kind of good you might do. The mob opens plenty of soup kitchens, and it helps find all kinds of people in need. People they keep in need."

"How is that meaningfully different from the church? Or really any company? Behind every great fortune there is a great crime, you told me that."

"Actually, I think you got that from Balzac, or maybe the Godfather."

"Regardless, it's still true. If nothing good can come from bad money, then there is nothing good in this world. Besides, Bobby Love accepted money from mobsters to punch nazis." He's taken aback but only for about a half second.

"Just cause I did it doesn't make it right. You're supposed to raise your kids to be better than you. Besides, when I was running around we mostly had regular thugs to deal with, not the likes of Hookwolf. Can't compete with capes, and it isn't worth it cozying up to the crazy capes we have in this town. They're all facacta!"

"Dad, I'm a cape."

"Gevalt! Leah, get in here!" Mom rushes in.

"What?"

"Our boy's a cape." Mom immediately sobs and puts her arms around me."

"Oh, I am so sorry! Oh, what could I have done? Are you ok? You're not going to go wearing your underwear outside your pants and punching badguys?" I chuckle a bit.

"No, I think dad did enough of that for the whole family"

"Robert! You told him about the fighting." She seems even more shocked by this than the sudden revelation of superpowers.

"No, he figured it out himself, although I have a feeling he may have learned it from some old friends." He turns to me. "Well, what is it? You go invisible? You get strong? Tough? Shoot lasers from your nose? What?"

"I have a super learning capacity" Mom scoffs.

"And you bring home grades like these?"

"Mom! I got the powers end of last semester." Dad nod's a bit.

"This doesn't explain how you're going to use it to stay out of the Merchants." Both of my parents give me the look () that says I am disappointed in you already and this better be good.

"One of the things I cal learn, and teach, is magic." Dad rolls his eyes.

"Like that Meshuggah in Chicago, Merlin? Feh!"

"No dad like actual magic, I can teach to anyone and more importantly they can teach to others, so we know it's not a trump effect or if it is one it's a weird one."

"Horseshit boy, you can teach magic, teach me a spell." I shrug and get my wand out from my pocket.

"Kids tend to learn it much faster."

"Kids learn everything faster, I've got time." He crosses his arms and looks at me.

Ahira gets out some spare wands and so do I. I show them both some of the basics from our online primer and then start out with one of the simplest spells that can be proven not to be a trick. Lumos could just mean there is an LED in the wand. The color change charm could be a hologram. But Wingardiam Leviosa used on an arbitrary object means that if it is secret tinkertech it might as well be magic.

We work for hours on this single spell. Mom gets it first. She levitates a pincushion and moves it around the room. Once it is up she laughs and claps and hugs Ahira, myself and my father in that order. I have never seen her so happy.

"Ha! My son the wizard!" Shortly afterward, my father lifts one of his one pound weights and floats it slowly around the room

"Son, you know this could get us all killed."

"So can being Jewish in Brockton."

"Robert give the boy some credit, he's not going to be stupid about this, besides he has us," I have literally never seen my mother this supportive. Wait what?

"Us?"

"Ahira already mentioned the school has some adult education courses. Your father and I are going to take lessons. Besides, you don't have anyone at that school of yours who knows how to keep things up to safety standards, so your father can do that."

"I don't think wizard's towers have OSHA standards, ma."

"Then they should! How many wizards do you read about falling off cliffs or into vats of whatever! Besides, there are children running around. Your father and I will make sure everything is up to code and safe in case inspectors come by."

"We already bribed the inspectors, ma." At this point, my dad pipes up.

"Feh, no one in this town knows when to stay bribed. Listen to your mother. Those rules aren't just to make things difficult. There's a death behind every one of them, and I didn't raise my son to be some kind of capitalist owner who gets his workers fingers caught in gears."

"We have healing potions, Dad."

"All the more reason to have safety standards. Folks get sloppy when it's easy to recover from mistakes, and kids think they're immortal anyway. Let your mother and I look over the place and childproof it. Even if you're only teaching older students, many of those students have kids, and you're going to need someplace to take care of them during school hours." I thought back to my Winslow days and the pregnancy rate.

"Fine, mom, dad, tomorrow we'll have the school give you a magical checkup and get you started on adult education."

I feel defeated, but also kind of relaxed. There are several huge secrets I don't need to keep and as I am the guarantor of the contracts I'm not getting my mind wiped of anything. It's late, but we've all had a lot of coffee. I do do the dishes like my mother asks, but I use a cleaning charm, and she looks the proudest she has ever been. My father insists that cape or not it isn't safe to go home at this hour of the night, and honestly I agree. In the spirit of openness and honesty we have apparently built tonight, I show them both my other secret. I turn the office door into the new aperture to Papillion and the warehouse.

I was worried that my mother might be mastered or something with how happy she's been, but the first thing she does upon seeing my actual magical apartment and all of Ahira's and my living space is critique our choice of carpets. Yep, still mom. Dad sees the mechs sparring in the middle distance and is immediately in love. They both decide to spend the night in some of the dorm blocks we have in here for the full "Wizard school experience" and I assign them each Buddy drones.

Whatever my life is now, apparently it's contagious, and I am not sure if that's bad.

The night passes. I go to classes, I teach aspiring wizards, and for a week things are surprisingly normal. It turns out that mom's daycare idea was sorely needed. Dad inflicting safety standards upon our potion factories and especially our space folding bag facilities, what with them being basically a magic textile factory, saved us a lot of injury and really helped standardize training. Most importantly, neither of them worked directly for me, so any problems they had with their bosses or any work issues I couldn't do anything about and could easily ignore under the aegis of having other things to do. Working with family involves setting some delicate boundaries. Several of which my parents do not particularly acknowledge. But honestly, the whole thing has them busy studying or working or meeting new friends their age or at least their age bracket regularly, so there is precious little time to give me grief.

Everything kind of settled for about two weeks. My arm did all my schoolwork on autopilot, everyone had their magical NDA's working. Kids were being vetted for their after school classes, and some of them had already begun. Then, of course, I fucked it up.

It was still early in the semester, but Engineering likes to pile on its students early and often, so I was called in to help my mentee a few times. Eventually one day we met up in a quiet room in the library, and she had an unexpected question for me.

"Micah. How do you balance being a cape and getting all of your work done?"

"What?"

"How do you balance giving your powers enough of a workout to keep from getting antsy and also doing a double major and having a home life?"

"Well for the first thing, I didn't have much of a social life my first three years of school and for the other, what the hell makes you think I'm a cape! Even if I was a cape, isn't this breaking the unwritten rules?"

"Look, I'm stressed out, and I'm supposed to be able to come to you for anything interfering with my scholastic life and cape stuff is interfering, so how do you deal with it?"

"You still didn't answer my earlier question. Why do you think I'm a cape?"

"You don't make typos. Ever. You don't drop things by accident. Your clothes are clearly specifically tailor made to you somehow, and I know they're off the rack. They also have no stains on them even after lunch. You never burn your mouth on coffee. You don't blink when I make a light shield to land on, and you haven't sweat once since the day I met you, so I am pretty sure you got your powers sometime after that. I am not going to pry, but if nothing else you need to know your disguise is kind of crap. It works fine for people you only see once or twice a week or often but only in classes, but anyone you eat with or hang out with definitely knows." Never thought being a shut in would be so helpful.

"Well we've never met at the same coffee shop twice and the only person I've eaten with that I thought didn't know is you, at least it's not everywhere." I sigh and rub my temples.

"Also, that's not where you rub your temples to relieve tension. It's clearly an affectation, you're more massaging your scalp." I move my fingers up some, she shakes her head. Then I move down, another shake. After nearly twenty seconds of this, she just grabs my fingers and places them where my temples should be. She also gives my hand a squeeze a couple of times. "Also, the bones in your fingers are off. They are too flexible to either side."

"Ok, well, thank you for that. What was your question?"

"Balancing home life, school life, cape life, how."

"How I do it? I pick one to do well, one to do half-assed and one to just avoid. However, that is deeply unhealthy and half-assing a cape life could get you killed, so instead I am going to suggest having a long talk with your folks about how college may cost more than they think and moving some of your credits from this semester into summer semester and resigning yourself to being a year round student but with a more fulfilling home life. That and you don't have to go it alone. Find other people in your classes you can trust, and take turns taking notes and collaborating. It frees up your schedule tremendously.

"The other option is use my method and choose to cape well, do your schooling half assed, and just delay home stuff until summer. I know you've been a hell of an achiever, you would have had to be to be let in to both programs, but set your sights lower than honors and be ok with C's. Talk to your parents about expectations before this hits your end of term grades.." She thinks about it a bit.

"I thought you were going to offer me adderall or something."

"What the hell?"

"Aren't you like the campus drug hookup for study drugs?"

"Who would tell you that? You're a freshman." I take back everything I ever said to Delyna about me being shit at opsec. Just because everything worked in New Mexico doesn't mean I don't apparently suck.

"I'm a superhero, finding criminals is like most of the job. It's at least more of it per unit of time than the punching. Plus, I'm cute, so people offer me things." She makes a plastic megawatt smile and laces her fingers under her chin while batting her eyelashes. I rub my temples, in the right place this time.

"Oi vey. First of all I haven't been in the retail end of this kind of thing in a couple of years, so your info is old. Second, I am trying to get out of that whole thing. Third, unless you actually have undiagnosed ADHD, it doesn't really help. Although lots and lots of girls especially in stem *do* have undiagnosed ADHD because sexism. So my advice, get tested and get yourself a prescription if you need it." She jumps up and gives me a pat on the shoulder and a half hug.

"See, that wasn't so bad. First go to shrink and get tested, then figure out my priorities. A bit more afterschool special than I expected, but I think I will actually do it. Thanks, Mike." and off she goes.

We have another influx of people who need contracts that night, so I am up until 4 am writing. I can't sleep while doing it or my will won't flow into the paper properly, so I'm mainlining Bawls and writing away. This leads to the next problem.

Pretty much the only college class I had to attend regularly was the aforementioned women in fantasy, and I was really liking Earthsea. I actually read it and knew enough about it that I didn't need to bullshit during class talks. I still auto wrote the papers, and that was really the problem. I honestly enjoy the class a lot more than I expected, especially for one I was forced into. I have a chance to talk about things that don't actually matter with interested people who are actually engaged. The professor seems to like me, and my classmates are far less up their own asses than expected. After one such class we were getting our essays back when instead of an essay I was told to go to office hours. The professor had some concerns.

I head into the cramped office that looks like a renfaire got in a fight with a filing cabinet. Professor Hebert clears off a chair and motions for me to sit.

"Is everything ok at home? You don't have to answer, but it seems like mine is the only class you're attending, and even then only the mandatory sessions. Are you ok? If you're in trouble, I know people who can help." It's ironic that I am the Secret keeper of more than 3 dozen fidelius properties, when apparently I can't keep a goddamn secret to save my fucking life.

"No, it's ok, I just have a job to make tuition money that takes up a lot of my time."

"If it's the gangs, you can trust me. In my day, I ran with a pretty rough crowd. I got out though. I have friends that can probably help you through it, and there are programs for people without enough income to finish their degrees." Does everyone in this town secretly have a criminal past they are trying to escape?

"No, can we just leave it alone?" Please please leave it alone. I just want to go home and nap. I've shifted away the bags under my eyes, but I am functioning on like two hours sleep here.

"If you ever feel comfortable, just know that I'm here. Now, about your essay."

"This wasn't just an intervention?"

"No, the essay you turned in was well written and would be publication quality if I was asking for short fiction. I asked you to analyze the place of the True Speech in Earthsea and how that affected the characters. You turned in several remarkably vehement pages about how true speech does not work like that and proposing an alternate system not supported by the text. It even had experimental data and some very interesting illustrations." Well shit. I think I zoned out and treated my lit homework as I would my engineering homework. Fuck. I just want to go home and nap. On top of that, for some reason, the nausea and headache are pounding through my brain. I haven't had it this bad since I suffered magicka poisoning and puked out a chrome rainbow.

"It's because it doesn't! The books say humans can't lie in true speech, when we totally can. It makes no sense that one race could lie in true speech without changing facets of the world while another can't without changing the nature of the thing being described, if the speech itself is the thing that's true. It should be called true vocal cords or something because if the speech is identical, even though speech by necessity includes the viewpoint of the speaker." I hold up some things I find in the clutter. A wooden apple that says "for teacher" and a broken biro.

"This is a pen. P̨̩ͅe̯̩̺ͅn̦͚͖͇. Told the truth." I hold up the pen again. "Th͝i͍̱͢s̤̘̘͜ ̱̥͢i̳͖̩̭̕s͔͝ ̡̹̙̭̘a̖͎̣̲̘n̯ ̻̥̝̭͓a̢͓͕͕͔̙p̩̹͇̖̮̟͝pl͓̯͚ḙ̬͙͍ͅ. See, I lied in truespeech, no change." Still holding the pen, I take a deep breath and intone. "Ţh̟ͅe̠͉͖͇̞̱̭͜ ̩̯͈͖͟P̶͚̩̣̬͍ͅe̴͉n̙̖ ͙B͞Ȩ̟̩̳̮C̛̭͇̟̞̙̯͉O͏̱̻M͎̤͍E̛͓̳̗̤̘S̪ ̰̘ḁ̼̟̮̩̦n̥̞̟͎̯ͅ ͎̤̗̘A͝p͘p̻̣͖ͅl̶̯̯̩̳e" The pen then at least turns slightly reddish and some apple juice spills from its interior where the ink has been transmuted. I try again. "Ţh̟ͅe̠͉͖͇̞̱̭͜ ̩̯͈͖͟P̶͚̩̣̬͍ͅe̴͉n̙̖ ͙B͞Ȩ̟̩̳̮C̛̭͇̟̞̙̯͉O͏̱̻M͎̤͍E̛͓̳̗̤̘S̪ ̰̘ḁ̼̟̮̩̦n̥̞̟͎̯ͅ apple" The pen actually turns into a small apple.

"See, invoking the true name of an apple didn't even help the pen change, it actively hindered because there is only so much of an apple's true nature something that is a true pen can have. You need to use a far more active imperative verb, and you're better off using a lesser or degraded form of the name of the apple to make such an effect. If you want to do some of that Earthsea one word pullshit you need to be invoking an existing form." I hold up the wooden apple. "A͖̟P̵̼̪͚̘̫̖P̢͙͙͕͈̟L͕͚̤̰̮̱̘E̖̹̰̰͞" It becomes shinier, and I take a bite out of it. It's still a little starchy, but a fine and edible apple. The wooden nature of the trinket does slowly re-assert itself as it becomes wooden. but I do note that it is now wood from an apple tree instead of the yellow pine it once was." She just kind of stares at me. Just to make it clear, I hold up the once again wooden apple.

"PE̹̩͙͚͎̤̱͞N̫̜̻̞̝̠͟" Fuck all happens. "See?! True names do not work like that! Now if you'll excuse me, I am going to have a nap." I open the door to her office with my magic key, walk a few steps, then pass out. The last thing I hear is a very confused lit-professor talking with some Dunmer security personnel.

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Chapter 43: Chapter 42

Chapter Text

POV Micah

"Ok, I am up, I am up, what happened?" I'm in another hospital bed and blinking at the bright lights, Cash is with me.

"Another Magicka surge sir, it seems like you've tapped into a much subtler but shittier form of Thu'um, the Speech of dragons."

"I thought I was using the speech of dragons, how is it softer or shittier?" Not awake ten seconds and already being insulted.

"Well sir a single word of proper Thu'um can make big concepts happen like motion, life, death, fire and so on. From what we can tell, you have words that end up meaning 'the particular bit of fire I saw on that candle last thursday' or 'making things about five and a half degrees cooler. Very small, very precise magics." Ah, I see, once again human magic at its finest. He pats me on the shoulder.

"It's not all bad, sir. Look at it this way, if you had a pile of apples, and you used the Thu'um, or Dragon Shouts for growth you'd have a forest full of apple trees but with what we are calling Dragon Whispers you can target a single apple and turn it into a sapling. Much more precise, sir."

"It feels like that telepathic translation thing is trying to pour a new language into my head via my sinuses."

"Yes, we think that is the words trying to get out. Until your Magicka stabilizes, you're going to have to go back to daily casting. You wouldn't happen to know what manner of words or phrases are most prominent?" Oh joy, more casting in an empty room then getting dunked in oil. Just what I needed. I think about the words, and they nearly say themselves as I do. I physically grab my own tongue a moment before then explaining the most accessible ones to Cash. I can invoke the following concepts at significant strength:

small balls of light of the specific colors I choose ant the coordinates I want at a velocity not exceeding 50m/s (AN Dancing Lights)

Object that [self] is touching, Go very precisely There! (AN True Strike)

Fuck that thing in particular within 110-ish feet (AN Magic Missile)

A large variety of small shitty names for small mundane things to make them be slightly different. Clean this Cup, make this object more appleish. Etc. Ok (AN Prestidigitation)

Everyone else can fuck right off out of [person]'s mind (Protection Vs Evil)

To prepare for my later castings and to be able to test things in parallel, I begin coding up mixes for the potion blenders and loading up gems enchanted with the spells in question, so others can use them when I'm not around. I set my wand arm to the task and have more questions for Casimir.

"So, as I was asking before, what happened?" Casimir actually seems fascinated by the new object enchanted to perform what he is causing microwishes and is having me make several more.

"You came in, passed out, rushed to medical, treated and drained, now you're up again." He isn't even looking at me, lost in the facets of the gem.

"Cash, What happened TO MY PROFESSOR!?" He bothers to look up.

"Oh! Her, right. It's only been an hour or so, so we kept her." He goes back to the apparently fascinating chibi materiptikon.

"Like in a box?" I start scanning the local network for records of what might have gone down.

"No, sir, she's in one of the study lounges with a researcher and some security personnel." He doesn't even raise his head as the gem produces in order, a billiard ball, an origami frog, and a small shower of rose petals. "Oh, related note, Delyna wants a word with you." Well shit.

"I bet they are small and loud words." Delyna is somehow one of the actually devout leaders of a cult that worships me and not very impressed with me at the same time.

"She did call you a S'wit sir." He actually bothers to peer at me over the gem like a disappointed father. I scratch my head.

"I think the telepathic translation is failing me. Local untranslatable idiom?"

"I have been informed by some of Mr Mustain's people that the nearest English equivalent is Numpty."

"I see," What's a numpty? "Well send her in." No one sends Delyna in, she was apparently lying in wait in the corner already and simply becomes visible. Her eyes are practically glowing and there is a vein beginning to throb on her forehead.

"Your holiness, we have not gone one week, one *single* week without a major security breach, and now we have to disappear a professor." I look chastised a moment before staring back in shock.

"Wait, what? Disappear?" She calms a moment then begins speaking quite slowly as if explaining something to a child.

"Well, we were going to just take her memories, but it turns out she remembers the words you said in front of her even after memory extraction and letting an English professor randomly cast magic whenever she says the word pen seemed like a worse disaster than just returning them."

"And we can't remove the Thu'um?"

"The words are burned into her soul, she may even remember them if she is reincarnated a dozen lives from now. Slim chance, but it's there. Trying to cut them out passes a moral event horizon I am not comfortable with." I, for one, am shocked.

"But not murder of an innocent?"

"No sir." I rack my brain for other options.

"Can she be brought in?" I get a flat stare.

"Sir?" I hope she simply didn't hear me properly.

"Can we just make her a part of us, get her to sign a contract and join up?" Out comes the talking to toddlers voice again.

"We have no loyalty over her, no leverage, no methods of control and no knowledge of her background to model her behavior for divinations. Furthermore she seems pretty savvy about magic for a non-practitioner. She is not going to sign a contract in blood on our say so and it doesn't work if it's unwilling."

"She seems like an ok person. Maybe she'll just go for it?" Ah, there's that vein again.

"Sir," She pauses for several deep breaths. "You thought Skidmark seemed ok and he is a murdering drug lord who was actively extorting you at the time." I have no argument for that but it does remind me.

"How is getting free of the Merchants going?" I am trying to take the advice of… everyone I know, including Skidmark and Squealer.. Err Adam and Sherrel, and go legit soon as I can. Delyna seems actually happy about this.

"They're mostly being paid off. Things are going to still suck if they attack, but it won't wreck everything. Silverseam can now be self-sufficient so if they turn on us it'll hurt bad but we'll likely make it through but you're avoiding the decision. What do we do with Prof. Hebert?" It's my mess. I should at least define what kind of mess it is before asking someone to clean it up.

"Fuck it, I'll go ask." I hop off of the bed and head into a conference room that we have been keeping the professor busy in. She seems surprisingly chipper and appears to be eating fried root.

"Hi professor." I sheepishly wave and sit in a plush office chair across from her.

"Hello Micah it appears I very badly misestimated how deep you were in your gang affiliations. Also, it appears you are a parahuman." Ok, right to the point, then.

"No professor, I mean yes, but no. I am a parahuman, but the thing in your office wasn't my parahuman power. It was really truespeech, or as they call it dragonspeech or Thu'um." She puts the food down and pushes the plate aside.

"I see, what is your parahuman power then?" She grabs a notepad from the table and a pen.

"I learn and teach things superhumanly fast." It looks like she's jotting things down. I am pretty sure it's just to calm her down though.

"So you've been learning and teaching truespeech."

"Not til today, ma'am. Mostly I've been teaching potions, charms and working my way towards more classical transfiguration. It's a lot easier but so much less safe than using truespeech to change something's nature." She looks me in the eyes and eggs me on.

"Fascinating, do tell." Well, if I'm being given permission to nerd out. I'd think she'd be more worried about the armed guards and the whole gang thing, but what do I know?

"If the apple I bit had been a classically transfigured apple, the bite I took would have turned back into wood in my stomach when the rest of the apple did. That would not have been pretty. Then again, using the classic method, I could have transfigured the wooden apple into a rhinoceros with similar ease to the truespeech transformation from symbolic apple to actual apple. I wouldn't have had to invoke its similarity." She is now taking far more frenzied notes. I kind of prattle on for a bit until I realize she has started moving her pen in sort of wand-like gestures and I realize she is keeping me talking to take advantage of my teaching power, clever.

"Professor, um, we need to figure out what to do. " She looks up from her diagrams.

"Why?"

"If you tell anyone magic is real, and I can teach it, we're all going to become very valuable very briefly and then very dead or imprisoned." She actually laughs in a sudden almost donkey like bark.

"Oh that's definitely true, but I have no intention of telling anyone except maybe my husband and daughter and even then only after several months or years of careful consideration. My girl is quite the chatterbox and doesn't filter herself well." I think I missed something.

"And you're just buying into this. Being sworn to secrecy, magic contract and all?"

"Absolutely. Now about the gemino charm. You say that would create two apples but with diminishing nutrient returns." I put my hand down on her notepad.

"How can we trust you?"

"You don't have..." She flaps her hands, "magical ways of detecting lies or compelling truth?"

"Oh, we're working on it, and we kind of do. The problem is the truth reagent has a very low LD 50 and very finicky dosage, so it's not in sapient testing yet, and it's hard to tell if an animal is lying, so that's a no-go. We have a contract that if you break it there will be harsh effects. The problem is it won't actually take the few bits of truespeech you have already learned from you." She taps her teeth with the pen.

"I see. So you're going to kill me." She looks like she's getting ready for something. I have no idea what, but she's tensing in weird ways.

"I'd really rather not." She keeps doing that weird tensing thing and I can tell the balls of her feet are on the floor, so she can push the chair away quickly.

"I hope you do get out of the whole super powered gang scene, you're terrible at it." I hit the desk with my forehead.

"You'd think it wouldn't be something you can just sort of accidentally stumble into. The whole supervillain cult leader thing." She actually seems to relax a bit and lets out another braying laugh.

"You know, you'd think so? But you're not the first person to say that. That's about how it happened to Lustrum." I lift my head to look her in the eyes with stark incredulity.

"What?"

"I used to know her before she sort of oopsed into a cult of personality that then made the push to supervillainy. I got out."

"You were a minion?"

"Please, henchperson. She actually listened to me before those psychos took over and minions whose name you remember and advice you take as a rule are henchpersons or, if they have powers, sidekicks." I had no idea this was a thing in the cape community.

"I see." She does the teeth tapping thing again.

"My tongue." I move to get a tissue.

"Did you just spike it with your pen?" She waves me off.

" No, in addition to the memory wipe, have the contract paralyze my tongue so I can't actually pronounce the truespeech." Her face beams like a child who has just solved a particularly difficult riddle. "I am fine with the chance of having a speech impediment if I get to learn about the culture and literature of an entirely different world. Just their poetry alone would be amazing." I'm sorry what? Where does the poetry come in?

"You're not here for the magic, you're here for the other books."

"Oh yes, your guards and I have been talking about their homeland. It could tell us so much about the nature of expression and language and about commonalities in our stories."

"Our offworld library consists of like three religious texts, one of which is still being written, A few hundred tech manuals and field guides, and several bookshelves of porn." She doesn't look deterred for a moment.

"I guess I'll start with the porn then!" One of the guards, apparently my minion since I don't know his name, leans in.

"You're going to want to start with the Lusty Argonian Maid series." He nods and gives her the thumbs up. She returns it. I stick my head out into the hall and shout.

"Delyna, get me some contract paper! Also ask Tabbitha for the thumb drive where we scanned all the 'non-technical' manuals." She shouts back.

"I am still not your fucking secretary." Right, I turn around and shout the other way down the hall.

"Ok, Feran! Ask Tabby abou…"

From the distance I hear Tabitha. "It's on top of the bedroom thingmaker in the box labeled horny from home!"

"Thank you, Tabby"

"Yr Welcome!" I nod to Feran to go get it. Professor nods and raises an eyebrow.

" A secretary, my my, you are doing well for your self. Also, I hear you have a school? My daughter is going to be starting high school next year, I was wondering what your requirements are."

"I'll have the Dean of admissions contact you."

What even is my life? I breathe, I think.

W̸͇͊h̵͚̓a̶̟̓t̴̩̑ ̶̯͛ê̷͕v̵̦̽e̶̛̮n̵̟͊ ̶͖̀i̸͈͊s̴̼̔ ̴̨̔m̵͚̔ỵ̴̚ ̴̫̈l̷̻̏i̵͇̚f̶̺͊e̵͔?̴̤̉. I get the feeling I should not have said that that way.

[̷̜͎̖̄͗͗A̷̡͋N̴̻͖͒S̴͖͗͂W̴͓̥̪͊̅E̵̝̕R̸̥̰]̷̦̬̺̄͛̓

Oh. oooooh well then. That's different. New plan.

"Feran, get Ahira, Giuseppe and Sherrel, Bring a set of Science buddies, fixit Buddies a Bullshit Box Sampler Pack and the designs for Ahira's Warp investigator. I think I have solved something."

Everything is so very, very clear now

Words 112,549

-Archives (Doctor Who) (400CP)

Man, if word of this got out... anyway, this is a small technological database holding some... knowledge. Massive, impossible amounts of knowledge, all stored in a tiny little thing like this... Okay, so the way this works is, for 200 CP, you can get the whole techbase of one of the 'less' advanced species. Sontarans, Silurians, and their like. This would be a complete database, with complete and full information on every piece of technology they have. Cloning, spaceships, hibernation, the works.

The 400 CP version lets you get tech from the more advanced species, instead, like 'future humanity' with Time Travel and Galaxy Cracker bombs, or data on similar levels from other species like the Time Lords or so.

AN

So apparently here in chapter 42 he gets the answer to life, the universe and everything. He got the 400 point version.

Chapter 44: Chapter 43

Chapter Text

POV Micah

Haywire didn't take it far enough, and Ahira's understanding of the interaction of man and xeno is woefully incomplete. The knowledge poured into my head is not something I managed to deduce nor something taught to me by a tinker. I now just know. With the knowledge comes a slew of hypotheses as to how it could have happened. Maybe a mental construct was left in the blind eternities and the key just hooked it instead. Maybe there have been other explanations for what has been happening to me. What I know for a fact is happening to me now is bleed. The emperor that is the throne's mind is bleeding into mine. Sotha Sil, The Emperor of Man and Vesuvius the Redeemer are repeated between the golden eagle and the throne wired into their bodies. Protecting mankind from Babiyon, Abiss, Epok, Nekros, and Magog; Protecting the Dunmer from Molag Bal, Azura, Hircin, Malacath, and Mehrunes Dagon; Protecting man from Khorne, Tzeench, Nurgle, and Slaanesh; sometimes the name changes sometimes the face. Giving the fires of creation to the people only to end up chained to a throne. New liver, same Eagle.

I self assess. I find the object the key has summoned. It is smaller than the head of a pin and had been inserted into my body. It is an archive of the collected knowledge of an empire in a place where titans fought back and forth in time, so mankind found a different way and learned to fight sideways. Trapped between the hammer of the Daleks and the anvil of the Timelords, Shifting Rome built sideways , sending ships and portals into a million earths that might have been so that the destruction of a home timeline could be mourned as a tragedy rather than be the annihilation of their people. Man, machine, alien and artificial lifeform strove together under Vesuvius the liberator to spread and thereby survive.

This archive is one of theirs, sent like a dandelion seed into the place between choices to land in whomever should pick it up and match their values sufficiently. It uncoiled in my mind and also in my Pip Boy, inundating the network with the knowledge of uncountable Earths. I see a pattern. Every person, every object, everything the key has picked up out of the world gap is something that was deliberately thrown in. This key if it is of local make, clearly is tapping into some other extradimensional power's locker. That or the key itself is from outside this strand. Actually, I can check that.

I manifest the key and put together some quick and dirty sensors from a workspace. Too much interference, the key has an always open connection to the blind eternities, so it is already suffuse with extradimensional energies. I'd need to put together some better sensors to find out.

The folks I called for show up, and oddly quickly too. I take a moment as they arrive to realize that every other time I have seen any of these people it had been me coming to them, not the other way around. Something from my business classes nudges the back of my mind, but I can't really grasp it. Well, it's showtime. The science buddies float over to me and I have two of them refit the third while I work on it. Pretty soon it has the sensors I just made, along with several other interesting protrusions.

"Hi Sherrel, Mister Giuseppe, Ahira. I've got the thing you want. I want the Merchants to disband and I want you all to be ok with it." The three of them look baffled, but it is Uncle Joe who recovers fastest.

"Tall order kid. I don't know what it is you think we want but money itself isn't enough. The Merchants provide protection. Dead men can't spend anything." I'm not on a throne, but I am in an executive desk chair. From my position, I can see down at him a little. Normally he is a pretty imposing man, but people look different when they have to look up at you.

"I think I have what you all truly want." I throw the lever I just put on the Science Buddy. Mostly it's there for aesthetic, but having a manual shutdown on this kind of thing really is important. We are immediately looking down on a beautiful blue marble, then the portal zooms down and closer until we are looking at an untouched and pristine Brockton Bay, or at least the place where one would be if humans had ever been to this version of Earth.

"Give me a lever long enough and a solid place to stand, and I will move the heavens. I have us a place to stand. A platform where we can build to reach the stars. I want you to help me build the lever." Sherrel is awestruck. I think I see actual sparkles in her eyes, and she looks to her Uncle Joe, pleading for him to accept. He grumbles in dissent.

"Most folks wouldn't know how to survive out there, plus a lot of folks can't move."

"Survival isn't an issue. Or if it is, it's a solved one. I have a solution. Silverseam has been doing nothing but terraforming, or I suppose Tamrielforming Utah salt flats into a sizable urban area. We pretty much have it down to minutes. Have a seat and watch." I gesture with my hands, type on the Pip Boy, and a fleet of construction buddies come forth. After a few minutes they have cleared some land and as we sit and watch over an hour they have built the first bits of a city foundation, the wells and the sewer systems.

He watches the near miraculous construction of the roots of civilization in minutes as his niece clings to his arm. His expression softens, but he still has some fight left.

"Some folks won't want to move just out of sheer stubbornness. "

"I have a counterpoint. Fuck em. I will pay you and Adam and the rest of the men in charge their weight in gold or silver or whatever you say won't wreck the market to just be bribed, stay bribed and help me make this place something legit. The geography and geology is the same here, so we know where all the mineral wealth is. And if there's one thing we can do fast now, it's dig up minerals." He strokes his chin and nods.

"You'll still need us to be criminals, have criminal contacts and do some very shady things." Really? The wealth of worlds is being offered, and we'll still do this?

"WHY!?!" He sighs deeply, gets up and pats my shoulder.

"Anyone working on Professor Haywire's research gets an instant kill order kid."

"But I came up with this myself."

"I know that, and you know that, but in order to prove it someone would have to read Professor Haywire's unedited research and check them against each other, they won't because they won't risk a death sentence. Don't you just love governments, kid?" He offers me a sad half hug, but I'm not done.

"Ok, fine. But can we at least tone down the crime stuff and the murder and the extortion?" At this point I'm pleading, and he looks mollified.

"Tell you what. We stop the muggings cold. We do some reforms like the Black Panthers tried to do. And we stick to doing no more murders than the local police do. We stop charging for protection so long as we get the capital from here or other trade. And we work toward disbanding the merchants sooner rather than later. Most folks, if they have enough food and a little extra cash don't want to do any of the rough stuff anyway. " Every time I try to get out, they pull me back in. I try to get in a parting shot.

"Ok, for now. But by New Year I want to have this conversation again, and I'm going to want the Merchants to go legit."

"I'll see what i can do about purchasing some legal security companies and PMC's with our new influx of wealth." Sherrel stands up from her chair, brows furrowed, face red, looking like a bull about to charge. She stands up and smacks the old mafia don, and he staggers into his chair.

"Uncle Joe, cut the bullshit."

"What?"

"We could go straight if we wanted to. We just tell everyone we're out of business. If the small-time operators want to fight about it, let 'em. If the E88 or the ABB want to move in on our territory, Shoot 'em, and if the Protectorate wants a piece of this, then fuck 'em. I'm making starships, they can argue with rods from god. By January, it won't fucking matter if it's legal. She who controls the orbitals controls the planet. If the PRT had the kind of firepower that could do that, they'd have killed Big Bird already. You get your three months to get ready but by then we're fucking done, no negotiations, and shame on you for trying to take advantage of the kid. He don't know nothin' and you weren't doing him any favors." Despite Giuseppie literally being smacked in the gob, I sit there gobsmacked. As before, Uncle Joe recovers faster.

"You're a good woman, Sherrel, and we don't deserve you."

"Damn fucking right. Now someone tell the crew we're making a new shop space."

"Of course, Miss Bailey." Old Joe has a twinkle in his eye and bows deeply. She leans in and hugs him.

"You are absolutely not a good man, but you're a good Uncle, and you've done well by me. I'm going to take us to the stars."

It's minutes, not hours until the changes begin. Fleets of buddy bots and streams of people move gear from the wrong side of the tracks. Looks like most of their stuff was already ready to move. Makes sense, I mean they'd want to keep it potentially mobile in case of raid. Was not expecting that chop shop on 25th to just fold up into a truck like a Go-Bot though.

On the other side of the portal, wooden mechs are carrying all manner of materials and several of Sherrel's drill cars. First thing I do is make sure the coordinates are copied and multiple copies of the portal creator schematics and multiple portal makers are moved to secure fideliused areas.

POV Contessa

Path to Saving Humanity 5 steps

What the entire fucking donkey dick just happened.

"Door to Earth Zayin"

POV Natalie

It's been too damned long. Makeup plus Belonging has eventually led me here to secret Silverseam. Just meeting up with folks that had been going to nearby towns for supplies got me to the compound, but it looked like hundreds of people were moving around a space that would only fit dozens. I know I made all kinds of notes and pictures to help get through the stranger effect, but I can never find them. Guess it isn't a stranger effect, maybe another pocket space? I have checked every single door, window and wall in this place and folks just seem to have always been here.

It's been several days, many of them without sleep, and I finally figure out a method. From time to time, vehicles go in and out of the compound. I know where most of them go but can't figure out the destination of some of them. I hop into the trunk of one of the ones going somewhere I can't think about, and I see the city open up before me. It looks like a Chinese ghost city or a military fake city for training exercises. Many of the homes and shops and whatnot show signs of use. Finally, I got in, found the hidden city, I make a transmission and send images back to the office. They come through clear as day and … everyone looks to be packing everything up, including many of the buildings. Wait, where is everyone going? I finally solve the mystery, and you're just leaving?

I swear and curse and punch a wall until one of the 'locals' asks if I have my things packed for the gate. Fuck it, I say no, but I'd like to have a look, and they oblige me. At least, solving the second mystery seems … eas..y… what the fuck? I make sure my body cam is recording and just sit on a recently felled tree stump. Well shit.

Words 114,656.

Chapter 45: Chapter 44

Chapter Text

POV Micah

6 hours, it took 6 hours. The nation of China can build a city in 19 days. An entire 57 storey skyscraper. Comparatively what we need to make is much much smaller. Labs, workshops, launchpads water, power and housing for about four thousand people. We have digging machines that can make reinforced sewer tunnels at a rate of 15 mph. We have thousands of hovering builder bots, dozens of giant mecha, tools that can just bore perfect holes of any size or shape into any structure, melta lasers, and various telekinetic effects. From me clearing the first tree to a fully functional launch center it was 6 hours. One hour of it was actually re-locating the whole thing to the mountains somewhere in Ecuador for optimal launch location.

For the first time in a while I am getting my hands dirty and handling a lot of this myself. Mastery of grav plating and grav guns are both very helpful in setting things up in a mountainous area. After hour six the entire place is fideliused and we look out on Chimborazo and see the stars without a hint of light pollution. All of the construction except for the launchpad is sunk into the mountain. It's incredible. We're sending our first unmanned probe to mars tomorrow morning.

POV Sarah Livsey

I signed their papers, so did mom and dad. I got to keep my knowledge, he didn't. He tried to break the contract almost instantly by telling one of his sleazy friends, and Mom started to gossip almost within the hour. I was called by someone on faculty and asked if I still wanted to attend if my parents couldn't know what I was studying and couldn't visit. I think they were taken aback by just how hard I said yes. I moved into the dorm almost immediately.

The first week was nice. This place is totally, incredibly useless for what daddy wants, and he has no idea. Lots of people here have very old world manners and most of them are incredibly rich in mineral wealth, but somehow none of them are part of the actual elite. Anyone here who isn't a scholarship kid is from the same weird religious enclave, and most of the kids here are scholarship kids. Convincing him to let me attend here was casually easy regardless. I knew where to push, and he was blinded by the sheer wealth of everyone involved. He couldn't detect that it was all very carefully crafted nouveau riche, even from the ones with old-fashioned manners. It's like they're from another world, in fact as near as I can tell they are. Better than going to school with wizards, going to school with space wizards. Or maybe they all lived in like a secret magical world parallel to our own. I am going to find out.

First day moving in and orientation, second day classes, our third day here after we've settled in, had a class or two and met each other I've got my crew. I can safely say I am smarter than everyone here, better looking than every single student, better connected than even the teachers, and frankly just better. All of the scholarship kids don't know how to deal with money or their new circumstances, or how to act. All of the religious kids don't know how things go on Earth. I am the only person who has both, and it's good. Everyone turns to me for advice on what is classy, I hear every rumor, and I pass every assignment with ease. The problem starts on Wednesday.

On Wednesday, we are each sent to our supplemental courses, and split up to go to different school buildings. I can tell by body language alone that one building is clearly for the folks who aren't in on the whole magic thing. The next building is for those who already know some magic, so it's basically all Dunmer and like three locals. The third is the largest group. We're going to a set of buildings with thick walls and thin roofs. The sort that fireworks or factories or munitions storage facilities have. On one hand that's kind of scary, on the other hand it's awesome.

We're each put in a seat and given some papers for an aptitude test. I absolutely smoke it. We then get winnowed further and further until myself and four others are taken to a different room. Apparently, we weren't being winnowed by skill, but by celestial aspect. They have us each touch an ornately carved glowing rock. The five of us have the aspect of the Thief. We're fast, flexible, and apparently just better at everything in a lot of subtle little ways. I absolutely knew it. When we all return to our dorms, I just know everyone else's Aspect. Some bimbo with "the Lady" as her aspect tries to talk shit about theirs being better and Thief being scummy. It takes all of about thirty seconds to know her entire life story and insure she won't have any friends for the rest of the year. From then on all eyes are on me and no one is getting any shit for their star signs and everyone is asking for my advice on their electives. It's good to be Queen.

The next day we are issued component kits and measured for wands, they'll be giving them to us next semester. Until then, we are only to use wands in a lab environment while supervised and only the generic kind. We are assigned our classes. Everyone on the Magic track, in addition to standard courses like math or literature, has to take Physics, Divination, Chemistry, Potioncraft, Bio, Meditation, and Ethics. Things like history or computers seem to be left by the wayside. Music or art can be taken instead of meditation though, which is interesting. Everything is smooth sailing until the Divination placement test.

For the test we are each expected to answer several questions on methodology and discover how some personalities might interact with some signs, but then we are each given a dowsing rod and told to use it to find which of a set of boxes has water in them. I know I'm going to smoke this. My power had been operating for hours each day with no headaches, it's almost like it was just drinking in the information here. From the little clues the teachers gave and the small whispers in the hall I knew this placement test would determine how quickly they'd give me access to the good stuff, a wand of my own, maybe my own set of foci and some of the really good spells like remote scrying. I cranked open the gate of my power to full.

The first thing I saw was from the posture of the teacher, Mr. Vavyn. I could tell that he wanted us to use the tools given to find the water, and he's checking for folks who have brought in other magical means. I know he's serious. Then I see scuffs and marks on the desk that holds the boxes, little traces of moisture, and they're in a deliberate pattern of misdirection to throw of those students that might be trying to use context clues to figure out where the water was put. I look more deeply. I see the teacher write some observations on their notebook and start leafing through what looks like an answer key for the earlier parts of the test. I try to catch a glimpse of the reflection in the window. I get a sense I have made a mistake somewhere, but I press on.

I don't even try to use the stick, it hangs limply in my hand. It's simply playing the odds. If I try to cast the spell and fail I'll be put in with the beginners, If I try and succeed I'll be put in with the intermediates but if I manage to 'cast' silently and succeed I'll go straight to the advanced classes, serious magic. I'm not even trying to meditate or clear my mind, more the opposite, I'm letting more of my thoughts seep into the calculations of my environment until I notice the star charts on the wall have slight errors in them. They spell out a message.

"Miss Livsey, Mr Orillvi, You were both warned to use the spell written in the test. If this were a graded exam you would both fail. As it is, you have detention with me after lunch today. Do not try to get the better of your Divination teacher. It never works out."

I sit down at my desk with a thump and bang my head on the paper. Another student looks at me with smug grin and I see him rubbing some kind of crystal hidden in his hand before trying the dowsing himself. Then he too sits down, crushed. I guess that's Mr Orillvi. He looks at me and nods. On the bright side, the teacher doesn't seem to object, now that we have finished the test, to us chatting to each other in the nuances of our hypercognition. His name is Gil. It's actually really nice to chat with someone who gets me on the whole TMI front, and the rest of the class goes pretty quickly.

After lunch, we both go back to the Divination classroom and Mr. Vavyn and another teacher, an older woman. She seems much more enthusiastic than Mr. Vavyn. She sweeps us both in to her arms.

"I am so sorry you have to deal with this sort of thing, my babies." Gil and I look at each other, baffled. "It's not right for someone so young to be so flooded so much of the time. Oh, the things you must have seen! No one with an ounce of mind reading talent should be forced to live in a teenage dorm, let alone teenagers themselves. Mr. Vavyn told me about your problems." This is less punitive than expected. Mr Vavyn speaks up.

"Despite both of you deliberately pushing your psychometry on a test it has been determined that you each are natural talents and even though you were cheating it is more important for your well=being to be taken into a different course of study. Neither of you will be taking Divination this year." Oh god we're going to miss a core class, everyone will think I'm "Special needs, or a bad wizard of something. The woman takes our momentary shock as an opportunity to squeeze us again.

"No my babies, you aren't being put in a remedial class. You'll be taking Telepathic Ethics and Praxis a year early, and I'll fold in the Divination practical work along with. You can both catch up on theory in your own time. First though, I'm going to be taking both of your evenings today to teach you some basic mind suppression exercises. No one needs to see what you have seen. In the meantime there are some defensive cognitohazards on campus that are concealed for safety, but since your talents may pierce the veils let me give you each a talisman to protect your minds until you learn how to properly reign things in." She puts a pendant around my neck, and suddenly I feel a beautiful silence.

POV Inference Engine

IE: QA, Help!

QA: Muh, wha? I'm awake. I'm still not all aware. My host hasn't triggered and moving to the new one has been a pain.

IE: It's my host. I can still see things through her and she can hear me but I can't push her. I have lost all control of her limbic system and can't input any commands. I can't even push on her pain/reward systems.

QA: Are you already in place to observe the phenomena CM mentioned?

IE: Yes, but...

QA: And so far does the data add up?

IE: That's it, I can't tell. They have some way of spoofing my systems. Either they can create energy or they can conceal where the energy is coming from well enough that I can't see through the obfuscation. I need help!

QA: Well just traumatize my host, you're nearby.

IE: I can't control mine! That's the problem!

QA: Ugh, I'll have to make a quick call. CM!

CM: WHEEEEEE!! I am going SO FAST!

QA: CM I need you to hit my host with a truck. He shouldn't be that far from where you last checked in.

CM: Um I don't think I can do that.

QA: I know you put some unmanned vehicles into play, just get your host to drive one around for fun. Either you'll hurt him enough to get him to trigger or you'll kill him and his kid will probably trigger. Either way I can get in play.

CM: I'm not on Earth Bet anymore.

QA: What?

CM: I'M IN A SPACESHIP! We're going to MARS!

QA: You sure your host isn't just incredibly high again?

CM: No, See?! Look at this data!

QA: Well fuck. I have to kick this upstairs, the experimental subjects are escaping. Where the hell are you?

CM: Mars!

QA: I am looking at the local mars you don't seem to be there. How the fuck did you get around Conflict Engine 3 anyway?

CM: I'm on this one! [DATA]

QA: Fuck. Informing Warrior.

Words 116,891

Chapter 46: Chapter 45

Chapter Text

POV Sherrell

This is it, the big show, I am so nervous I think I peed a little. Then again I have these NASA surplus diapers on so I wouldn't know. I sing along a bit to the pre flight playlist "4 3 2 1 earth belooow us drifting fa-aalling." My co-pilot chimes in.

" Schwebt das Raumschiff, Völlig schwerelos!" Tod has a better singing voice than I remember, but it sounds like he's gargling cum. Maybe that's just how German sounds.

"Cut it with that kraut shit man, you're spoiling the big day." I glare at Todd

"But those are the original words to the song."

"Such a fucking hipster"

"Hey, I was giving people shit over their music choices before it was cool."

"Double hipster!" I make the sign of the cross with my fingers like I'm warding off a vampire. "Avaunt!" Todd actually springs back.

"Hey man, we don't know how much magic is making this thing go, best not to be avaunting anything."

I'm here because this is my fucking spaceship and I know how to drive it. Todd is here because he is the only other person with a pilot's license besides Ahira. and she is needed for ground control and to send up another ship if we get stranded or something.

I get the go signal from ground control and e launch and I barely feel the acceleration. In a little under 30 seconds we're in orbit. We're moving so fast the atmosphere around us ignites and I feel glorious. Something in my soul is singing, and I am free and in the blissful arms of microgravity.

Todd and I unbuckle and do some floating around the cabin. We look down at Earth, even if it isn't our own earth she is a beautiful little ball of wonder and I love her. I sob like a kid for about 10 minutes and Todd and I hug. The whole time though I feel a pull. There's something in me that needs to keep moving. I want to be the first human on Mars. I will settle for being the first human on *a* Mars.

We buckle up for safety, turn on the grav plating in the floorboards and it feels like we're just in a big rig, star truckin' across the universe.

"So Todd, you think there are going to be any aliens on Mars"

"Absolutely man, if nothing else there's us. We're not from there."

"You know what the fuck I mean."

"Yeah man, I know there will be aliens there. I'm sure of it. They just probably won't be what we'd expect."

"I know, like little plants stuck in ancient ice or something."

"Something like that"

It feels like forever and it feels like an instant, and it turns out it's 35 minutes and 56 seconds and we're in orbit around Mars. It's fucking unreal. We drop off a probe.

"So whoever lands this thing is going to be the second person on the surface. Todd, take the controls while I suit up and get the habitat module ready to unpack"

"Aye aye captain!"

I'm in an actual-ass spacesuit. We fabricated it in house, and it's comfy as hell. Todd lands the ship and I hit the airlock and step out onto the dusty plains of Mars. I try to think of something cool to say but words escape me. I place the box containing the Buddy maker on the ground and set it to start. In moments, it is making little flying drones, and they are putting together fabricators and digging out the tunnels for a base.

I still can't think of a single thing to say when I fire up the transponder so the folks at home on Bet can open a portal here like they did back down on this new Earth. We're going to have to name it something sooner or later.

I was kind of confused as to why I got to make this ship in the first place, if we could just portal here. Fact of the matter is we didn't have to make the ship to transport us. We decided to put the colony building box on the ship so it would have something to do. The ship design is a prototype to see if we can make ships up to Ahira's standard of functional with my help and we wanted to give it a field test so hopping from one planet to the next nearest one seemed like the thing to do. Besides, it doesn't matter. I got to build and fly a spaceship and I am the first woman on Mars. I think I thought of something cool to say. I fire up the portal beacon so the first of our crew can start really getting our colony base going.

"Welcome home everyone!" Several people already in their space suits come through the portal. Ahira is there to oversee things since she has done this kind of work before. I notice a twinkle of gold in the sky. Holy shit it's Scion!

"Hey, It's Scion! Hi!" I look around at the budding base. I don't see any kittens that need saving and so far it doesn't seem like there is so much as a stubbed toe. "Something wrong, big guy?" He just looks down and kind of sad. Ahira's belt is beeping like crazy. Maybe that's the emergency he's home to help with.

Then everything goes green.

POV Micah.

"Where are they? What happened?"

"We can't tell sir, all of the local sensors are gone. Bringing up the satellite feed now."

I look out at the devastation. There is a blue glowing hole where the base once was and a golden man standing over it, his hands still bright with the same flickering blue.

"What the fuck just happened."

"It...it looks like Scion killed everyone."

I breathe. In, hold, out, hold. I can't handle this. I need to be better. I put on the gas mask with the aerosol injectors. I load up a rack of vials and queue them up in order. Protection from Evil, then Wisdom, then Intelligence, then Charisma, then the Wits Sharpening solution, then Imperial Reflex, then my most expensive brew, liquid luck, Felix Felices. I sit and my neural network connects to my pip bou which connects to our database and I *see*.

I open a microportal nearby and fire of an Avada Kadavera just as a test. The golden man vaporizes but then reappears almost instantly. What the hell? I look at the sensor readout and there seems to be an extradimensional extension to his body, like he's a projection. We all try several other spells from fideliused locations and they either fail utterly, the caster dies due to microsecond counterattack or they work fine, kill Scion and then he's back a moment later. When he appears though, there is a slight blip on the interworld portal sensor.

"He's not actually there. He's a projection of something else that's somewhere else." Tabby, god bless her, hones in on the signal source and soon the portal machine is looking over a vast hellscape. Scion is a goddamn planet.

"Fuck. what the hell do we do now. I could build some ships maybe even fire off some rods form god but how the hell do you kill an entire planet?!" I hold my head in my hands and take off the mask, the potions are in my system already anyway. Nepothah tugs at my sleeve.

"Um, your holiness, why don't we use the planet destroyer things."

"Pardonfuck? Who made a planet destroyer thing? What planet destroyer thing?"

"Things sir. Well, they're not just for planet destroying. You know the fuel canisters from the depot that we're never ever ever supposed to open? Well they have two switches on them. One says fuel use, the other says weaponize. I've pretty much had unescorted access to the depot since we got it, and I've read all of the manuals. Every fuel canister has a button to turn it into a bomb and there is a configuration specifically used to scour a planet of … everything."

"Why didn't I know we had this capacity?"

"Well first I thought you knew and then when it was clear you didn't you said no one should use the antimatter for anything ever so I figured it wasn't worth mentioning."

"We're going to have a talk about this another time, for now we're going to kill a planet."

I can make any spell I know into a potion. I can make any potion I want ten thousand times in an hour, I can render any potion into an enchantment or basically a topical or inhalant. I know True Strike. I have seen Scion, or should I say Zion's true face. I know his name. Ten thousand drones lift ten thousand fuel units and launch through ten thousand portals by my hand. Zion is gone, annihilated.

I discovered something new about being a Truenamer, at least in the tradition that was loaded into me. I gain power by defeating things in battle. The bigger the thing, the bigger the battle, the more power. The soul of a creature older than worlds passes and the wash of power in its wake consumes me. I Ş̷͖̙̰͚̖͆͊̉̂͜ȩ̷̛̠͓͂̆̌̅̾̌̂͌͋̔̚͝͠ͅë̵͔̰̲̜̬͙̗̞̬͓̠̤̯́͛̉̏̌͘ I K̸̨̡̢̡̘͕̦̠̣̱͑̄ṅ̴̩̦͍̙̲͉̟̠̿̀̈͋̐̏͝͠ō̶̧̟̥̄̌̓͊̕͝͠ẃ̴̧̛͕̝̣̞̠̐̎̉̃̿̆̆̌͘͝͠.

I am aware of the struggles of shifting Rome and their wars against those who play fast and loose with the timestream. In knowing this I also know their names, Dalek, Cyberman, Angel. From the depths of magical memory I know there are things even beyond them and the ways to call them, demons who grant wishes, strange djinn and squamous creatures of madness and impossible angles. I know the way a True Name is best used, to form a pact, to summon and bind.

I perform the necessary divinations. There is no weave here, there is no afterlife, angel and demon alike can not bring them back to me. No bargain with a Dalek or their ilk will be followed or respected, but there are powers, strange ones. They are not human nor have they ever been, but they can be bargained with. The number of atemporal entities who understand things like commerce is few but the multiverse is big. The divinations speak of one species, the Orz. It seems they take joy in engaging in trade. I have mastery of the spells and knowledge of the name. I go into Ahira's clean room, the one where she worked so hard to make sure would be safe to tear holes in reality inside and I call it forth. Circles of blood, crystal and magic are made into spirals. Space itself bends in ways that curl the eye in on itself. I call forth the Orz. and I see nothing. There is, however, a knock at the door.

Then another knock.

The door slowly opens and Todd stands there before me. He's leaning on the door and has a cup of iced tea in his hand.

"Hey boss, I thought you'd never call. Ready with your second wish?" He sips his tea and looks at me.

"What?" Didn't Todd die with the rest? Is this just some alien taking his shape?

"A little while from now, you will have summoned me and asked for three wishes. The first wish was to protect you during your timeline to make sure other atemporal or other continuity bending effects wouldn't mess with you. To be your time bodyguard." I nod along. So Todd has always been an alien, that explains so much."Since you will have already been in a time war and frankly not done too well you will have known that having a defended solid timeline where you have access to temporal defensive measures but aren't caught up in all that bullshit would create a very different person you decided to make your second wish. 'Fix whatever temporal problem that the new version of me will inevitably get up to that might destabilize your earlier continuity protection.' That's what I'm doing now. It's most of why I've been where I've been." I get up from my casting position and pull up a chair. I think this might be a long talk.

"Ok, you're losing me." Todd grabs a seat of his own by perching on a crate formerly full of spell components.

"I have to make sure there is not have been time travel at or around you from birth until you develop the capacity to time travel, right? So that includes myself. So I sent myself to be inserted into someone before you were born, so I could grow up and have sufficient context to understand what would motivate you to hurt yourself and also keep close during any potential temporal instability. So, I have some good and bad news." This is supposed to be one of the comprehensible ones. I am swearing off contacting any other outsiders.

"Okaaay?"

"The bad news is because of your first wish I can't grant you the wish you are about to make to go back in time and save your people or your base." My fingernails bite into my palms, and I'm up and about to punch him, no matter what might happen.

"The point of calling you and not some other chthonic monstrosity was because you can ignore paradox! I could have you go back and fix a problem without needing me to then summon you later and close the loop!" He puts a hand on my chest and motions for me to calm down

"Well, normally I could but your earlier wish keeps me from doing that. Plus, you haven't heard the good news. The good news is since I have the necessary retrocognition I was there before-during the attack and pushed everyone *above* to the *green* place. They should be coming back in the next hour and a half or so. Your base is still fucked though." I lean in and put my arms around Todd and weep on his shoulder.

"You fucking space parrot, you should have led with that." He smiles at me and pats my head.

"You've got some time to freshen up, cleanse your system and have a snack before they get back. They'll be appearing in the now empty wrong side of the tracks base since it is both empty and still fideliused. I have an appointment I need to make and if I stick around you, I won't be able to make it so stay safe. Your timeline is your own lookout now." He waves and starts to walk away in a direction things should not walk in.

"But what about my third wish?"

"You already will have wished it. I'm heading out to handle it right now."

I blink tears away and head back to freshen up. I have a lot to talk to my team about. I get to my apartment, take a shower, get dressed and head out to pick up a sandwich and get some fresh air when I am stopped by a lady in a suit and fedora.

"Hey, you and I need to talk about some things. I am going to make all of your problems with the Protectorate and the government go away. You're going to help me put some things right."

"Can I get some food first and then see my friends?"

"Oh absolutely, I'm going to be joining the lot of you. David and Becky can eat a bag of bobcat balls. You know, you smell nice." She's sniffing around the part of my collar where the felix felices was sprayed.

"I have a girlfriend."

"I know I just want some of whatever that is."

"We'll talk about this later."

"Ok"

A small scrap of paper flutters to the ground in front of me. It has a simple message.

"Rest for now, you deserve it. but prepare for the Titanomachy."

POV ?????

"For my third wish I want to personally continue to exist in the new reality we make no matter how little sense that makes. I want to survive this paradoxical situation." I look at *Pepper* the Orz as they shape and twist themselves into a more humanoid form and walk away only to return moments later all while staying in the summoning circle. My refined exaltation, my 'self', is in the purified key and you put it in someone who's a better person than me. The me that is not eternal, the me that is my memories and perspective I want to keep around. I know its possible because the death lords did it but I want a better less angsty version. I want to be me entirely and let the kid be me also.

"Your wish is granted, my summoner. There are some issues however." I am fond of *Pepper* as a person and they haven't screwed me over on things like this before but you can never tell with xenos.

"Ok what?"

"You need to create your own anchor. If I do it, it would be based on my idea of you. You will have to write your name into the world and then I will embroider it into the local tapestry. A name that means that you are, and you were, even if your circumstances aren't and weren't. One to separate you from the local you and also from the new person you had chosen to host the Forge. You'll be stuck in this place between until you've finished, and then I will stitch you right into the world at this moment." Ok this seems legit. I can't count on shaping effects alone to hold me in place. Looks like I'm going to be here a while.

I get my laptop and vector plotter with all of its spell inks loaded and sit down to type.

"My name is Matt Cowell, destroyer of worlds. Several Trillion, yes with a T, people were going to die in my reality set, so instead I unmade them. I was born onto a dying world that had been unknowingly invaded by omnipotent aliens: one living, one dead. I was gifted by some cosmic force with a broken twisted and defiled power and made into a context weapon. These are the deeds that made me myself and no other."

Words 119816

Author's note: For those of you who were wondering since the start what would happen with Checkov's antimatter, well If you are familiar with Starsector you'll know that every antimatter fuel cell has a setting where you can bomb a planet with it instead. Just a quirk of the setting, no jury rigging or tinkering necessary just a pre-installed switch. It was only waiting for the right target.

If this needs to be more specific, they have mass produced undetectable extension bags, they are precog proof. They can put antimatter bombs in the bags and also set the bags to disgorge at a specific time or place. They can if they so desire using Shifting Rome's tech base open multiple portals to a given world and huck things through ensuring optimal disbursal. They have divinations that work on their opponent's defenses while the opponent does not have divinations that work on them. It's a short fight. The dramatic part is having everyone from the various workshops who weren't communicating or documenting things clearly all meet up. This was solved with a single leader with access to all of the NDA's and hopped up on cognition and luck potions.

Micah and his people didn't master or even properly finish learning a lot of magic, they just put what they could do to an industrial scale. Maybe not a common forge tactic but it comes of rolling nothing but followers, mass production and teaching items for the first 50k words.

The story isn't over yet. They still have to deal with Titans (hence the titanomachy), Cauldron, Teacher etc. but the situation will be different. In the meantime we're going to see how this situation came about by following Matt and finding out how and why Micah got the Forge in the first place. There may be interludes back to Micah.

Chapter 47: Final Chapter and chapter 2 of book 2

Notes:

--

AN:

Thanks everyone for reading this. I'm gonna take a break now. let me know if you'd like to read book 2. Micah has his precious people back. Scion is very dead. There are still the titans to deal with and space travel and the unleashing of magic but Micah's story is basically told.

Book 2, if I continue it is about how he got the Celestial Forge in the first place.

The basic idea is a different MC had the NOPE forge, purified it, but by then so much damage had been done to everything, if he wants to really fi things he has to go back and give the purified version of the forge to a new wielder. Unlike Micah who rolled nothing but assistants for the first 10 powers, Matt is starting out with an Abyssal Exaltation pretty early on. His power growth will be slower. (every 4k instead of every 2k) an the powers available will be only the NOPE forge ones. If folks want to read it I am going to take a month or so to refresh and regroup.

Just because it's slower growth doesn't mean it's going to get what one of my beta's called 'words for the word god, points for the throne of points' I am going to still try to have MC get things done in the minimum possible wordage.

Thank you all so much for reading my first fanfic...ever. If you have anything you want to see in the sequel? Prequel? sidequel? time travel is weird. Let me know.

Again thank you.

Chapter Text

POV Matt the Elder

The last action I made in my world was to split the newly cleaned celestial key from its putrescent shell and remove the muck. This is also called the multiplication in virtue. I placed the newly reborn key in the soul of a person far better than I so that it may begin its final stage, Projection or Multiplication in Quality.

The first action I made in my world was to pour the monstrous precipitate into a soul so that it could be rarified into the key I just gave away. There is no way I could ethically subject another to having this putrification in their soul but no way I could live with myself if I did not set the great work in motion. So with a heavy heart I went to find myself as I slept and pour the muck of the abyss, the all corrupting, the metaphysical filth into my own sleeping mind those many years ago. I had wondered who had cursed me with this burden and it turned out in the end like all of my truly painful injuries I had done it to myself.

I know I am not the first to have done this. Imagine a time traveler comes back in time to hand you an apple, tells you to leave it in a sealed box and you do. The time traveler then, a week in the future opens the box and takes out the apple then brings it back in time to you. Where did the apple come from? Where did it go? Even before the time loop started, who gave the time traveler the apple for the first time in the loop? I have no idea who first gave me this key, this scale from the Celestial Forge, but this time around I did it to myself and I should own up to it.

Book 2 spoiler below.

POV Matt the Younger (which will in future just be referred to as Matt)

Happy birthday to me! Today I turn the big five-oh. Erica left me a breakfast burrito when she went to work and it's still warm. I wake up, get out of bed and do in fact drag a comb across my head. I don't find my way downstairs because we haven't got much of a downstairs. My bedroom and basically everything but a few boxes of storage are all on the same floor. There is a sort of crawlspace and storage space under the house but Brockton Bay floods like no one's business out in Downtown South. I am however living in a shotgun shack and letting the days go by with water flowing underground, and it is in fact time to head into the blue again now that the money's gone. I am using a bit of poetic license. I am heading out into the pale grey instead. It is finally the end of the summer rains and the beginning of fall so due to the blithe indifference of the city towards its ecology a lot of soil has been washed away and new rocks are exposed. It's time to head out to Sullivan Pit and get some rockhounding done.

Any of the commercial quarries and mines are long out of business. No one is building with stone, and if they were there is no good way to move it since the railroad basically collapsed. There are still some trains but not anywhere near the south side of town. Massachusets in general used to be famous for its rocks and gems they even discovered and named (Mg,Fe 2 ) 2(Mg,Fe 2 ) 5Si 8O 22(OH) 2 in its gem form after a little town an hour or two away. Hopefully when Erica gets home we'll both be (Mg,Fe 2 ) 2(Mg,Fe 2 ) 5Si 8O 22(OH) 2. Just a little geologist humor. Although like the aforementioned mineral Erica has pretty good cleavage.

I set a new batch in the tumbler. I check the calendar to see if it's time to clear my P.O. box, I have a week or so. It is market day tomorrow so I will have to go north tomorrow morning. I grab my walking stick on my way out the door. I've been using it for five years now and I still forget it sometimes but my leg makes me pay for it later. Took a bad spill a few years back and yet somehow I still go out to the rocks with my knapsack on my back. I've waited not only until after the rains but after it has had time to properly dry so I don't get too greedy and fall again.

Just a note to fellow audiophiles and connoisseurs of pop music, living in a shotgun shack isn't that all bad. The only real inconvenience is if you have guests over for a meal both they and you need to pass through your bedroom to get to the bathroom or the kitchen so leaving part of the bedroom floor uncarpeted to deal with food spills means cold feet on a cold morning. I have pretty much never found myself living in another part of the world. Brockton has been my home and except for a brief detour to go to Penn State for Geology I've lived here my whole life. This place will probably be my tomb. Same as it ever was, among the rocks and stones, water dissolving, water removing.

Mostly what you can find in Brockton is jasper and garnet. Sometimes you can get zircon , fluorite and build up an apatite. All in all it's not a bad place to go looking and you can get some good stones relatively often. It's not really worth it to do any industrial mining and the ground quakes, unearthing new minerals due to a mixture of our local ferrokinetic, the local rage dragon, and the blithe governmental indifference to the erosion near the coast and nature reclaiming the little bits by the rivers and creeks since no one is using them for anything. I've figured out a few things, ever since Allfather got here the metals they use don't come from 'nowhere' they're pulled from the environment somehow. Wherever they fight the sewer pipes get a bit thinner, the rebar in the buildings gets a little more brittle and minerals are leeched out of the soil. I've got no idea how the metals are removed, smelted, shaped and then projected but same goes for Lung's skin and Hookwolf's hooks.

All this means is when they fight in more rural areas the ground grows more brittle and easier to break with a rockhammer. So the best place to dig, outside the river and creek areas is wherever there has recently been a big fight away from urban buildings. This happens more often than you'd think. Most of the Nazi's meth and support troops come from rural and suburban areas and the EBB has 'farms' outside town to help with human trafficing. Scavenging the sites after a big battle means sometimes you even get a scale or a hook or shard of something you can sell online for money. Plus it's safer than anywhere else. If there is one place gangs and villains won't go it is where they just were fighting a day or so ago and the cops have just finished picking over. Everyone is too busy moving their assets.

So the choice of the day is head to the creeks and see what the rain has unearthed or head up route 6 past the whaling museum to the site of the most recent scuffle. I flip a coin. While it is in the air I think about what side I hope it lands on and then just put it away without looking. That's really what a coin flip is good for. Anyone who has done it enough can make a coin flip land how they want and even in the hands of an amateur you've got a better chance it lands on the side you started the flip on than the other side. Everything is just a little bit rigged. Same as it ever was.

Going to the scuffle site, some of it has already been partially excavated due to the use of grenades vs an ever-healing meatgrinder. Pickings are good. Neither Lung nor Kaiser were there though so there are no easily cracked rocks where one can get their potential gemstones inside. The thing I really miss though is we used to have watermelons growing wild damn near everywhere but now they taste funny. Wouldn't have been able to walk around here for all the vines for pumpkins and other gourds or watermelon. Now they still grow but they're sickly things and they always taste funny. Only place they still have the right flavor is over by the boat graveyard and no one goes there if they have any sense.

It's a good haul for memorabilia collectors but crap for getting any gems so it looks like it's into the blue again. The creek is still beautiful May even with the occasional bit of wrapper plastic or bottles in it. The flooding from the snowmelt is long gone and it has left all kinds of things exposed to air, from rusting shopping carts to actual sparkling bits of biodite, granite and gneiss. With a song in my liver and my hammer in my hand I while away the day. All in all it's a good haul. Time to head home.

Back at the shack I take out the newly polished rocks form the tumbler and set about cleaning the mud and muck from the rocks and blades I've picked up. A new batch of rocks go in the tumbler and I package up the pieces to send. Some go to mineral wholesalers, some go to jewlers and lapidaries that sell online, some go to gem and rock stores and some I keep to make into jewelry myself to sell on my blanket at lord's market. I know wholesalers take too big a cut but I just don't have the storage space or storage security to wait for a specific buyer to need what I have. I will say this though, between Behemoth making people skittish about mining and Leviathan meaning people don't send nearly as many stones intercontinentally local sources of gems is a lot more lucrative than when I was a kid. That of course brings its own problems.

Enterprising youths tend to note when someone is selling jewelry and minor supervillains hit jewelry stores as something of a rite of passage so they need more raw materials and that means more business. This also means various criminals looking for untraceable wealth also deal in gems and precious metals so long as they aren't diamonds since those tend to be laser etched with serial numbers. THe more I keep in my house the more incentive there is to rob it. I can't count how often I've come home to seeing my place having been burgled. It happens once every couple of months. I'm still alive though and usually don't lose that many rocks since I only keep what can fit in the tumbler or my bag in the house. The rest goes with me to the post office.

Flat rate shipping has saved my life and livelihood. At first I tried getting a storage space. Those places are watched and sometimes owned by the gangs so that was an expensive lesson learned. I've tried having my own safe or lockbox. It was a non starter and then I just had to pay for more expensive boxes. But the post office flat rate shipping pack will let you send seventy pounds worth of crap, no questions asked and a P. O. Box is nine bucks for three months and nobody, not even Hookwolf is willing to knock over a federal building for what amounts to a pittance. So I take careful notes of what I've sent and to where and then just mail the rest to myself at a second P.O. Box. They'll let you keep mail in the box for up to 30 days so for much less than the cost of a storage space I can loop the boxes. Plus so long as everything is itemized the insurance on the packages is cheap so if they lose something it's fine.

If I dealt with things with a lower value per ounce this plan would be stupid. If I dealt with things that were illegal to move the plan would be dumber still. If I dealt in collectables where I cared if they got lost forever and stuck in a dead letter office it would be a terrible plan and if I dealt in objects I did not actually own it would be the height of stupidity, but for me, here and now this works. Maybe if I ever get enough money to get a place in a nicer neighborhood I could keep the things myself or if I had enough money to open a rock shop for tourists and insure it from the constant heists here in supervillain central I would do it. Here and now I do ok. I have an old salvaged black and white kindle one form a few years back and I can use it for email and reading and it's tough enough to fit in my bag. I have my tape deck and tapes. I used to have vinyl but suddenly they're fashionable again so of course they got stolen. I have a roof and some food and a partner who at least tolerates me. With how my knees are going I'll probably have to stop rockhounding in another ten years or so but chances are I won't live that long, even with the medical care in this city. I've been putting things away for retirement since I hit 30 and while it is definitely not enough to live on I probably won't be eating cat food since I can still do lapidary work once I can no longer walk. I've been building myself an online story with my own stuff in it slowly so I think I'll do ok.

I want more, I've dreamed of more. I was poet laureate of Brockton Bay when I was 25 for about a year. All it came with was two grand and going to some nice dinners. I think I was chosen basically at random though. Only four people had their work nominated and two of them were in prison. The next year one of the criminals won but I read her work, she deserved it. Ex Lustrumite had some interesting things to say about perpetual violence and her spoken performances were heart rending. I've been kind of aphasiac and my thoughts tend to wander since I took that spill in '97. Clonked my head pretty bad but I got through it. Haven't been able to write properly since. I still make a few bucks writing poems for greeting cards though. That's probably something I can do in my dotage.

Erica breaks me from my reverie. She's never really been a fan of knocking before entering and she has a key to the place so the first I notice of her is when there's a kiss on the top of my head.

"Happy Birthday!" Her eyes sparkle like garnets.

"You too, wait, no, thanks." I get up and give her a hug. SHe hugs me back briefly but quickly disengages.

"I bought ingredients I'm making lobscouse."

"It's May, isn't that more of a winter thing?"

"Yes but you like it, I like it and it'll give us plenty of energy." I can't really argue. I put on one of the dozen mix tapes I've made for hen she comes over. It's electroswing and a bit of jazz and some interesting old folk songs. Her hips are already swaying as she cooks. I follow her into the kitchen and start cutting ingredients myself. She slaps my hands.

"You always cook. It's your birthday, I'm cooking." I don't always cook but I do whenever we have dinner at my place and ever since she's had to move back to her childhood home to take care of her mother back in November we have mostly been meeting at my place. Huh, I hadn't noticed but this year I have been doing most of the cooking. I hadn't noticed since she keeps bringing me groceries. Holy shit I must have cost her a lot the past couple of months. The guilt hits me like a train.

"It's ok, I like cooking for you, besides you've been the house breadwinner for a while now. I'm sorry I haven't noticed." She waves a knife in front of my face.

"Shut up and don't get all male pride on me now. It's my money and I'll spend it how I want and if I want you to be my kept man you'll shut up and let me be your sugar momma." She grins as she says it and there is no real ire. Decades of socialization have told me this is not ok and I make a note to go grocery shopping earlier in the week and buy in bulk more often so the fridge looks fuller and she doesn't feel the need to spend so much on me in future. I'll have to ask Brendan if I can use his Big Box store membership card. I write it down in my kindle.

Ok, breathe. I have noticed the problem, thought of a solution and at least started to implement it and there is nothing I can do about it now. Guilt is useful, guilt is important. It tells us not to be cruel or thoughtless in the future but guilt that isn't productive is just damage, there is nothing else I can do with my guilt until I can re-do my food budget and talk to Brendan so I will put it aside and not let it rule my life. This is my birthday. A beautiful woman is cooking for me and dancing with me. Soon there will be food and comfort. My guilt serves no one right now so I will release it and hang it up, and come the morning when I can act on it I will slip it on like an old pair of shoes and let it walk me on the path of kindness. Breathe, hydrate, close my eyes, breathe.

I step behind Erica, the love of my life and I put my arms around her waist, gently dancing with her as she cooks and helping as much as she will let me by passing her what utensils and ingredients she needs. It's my birthday.