First time writing a Celestial Forge fic. And it's an ambitious CF fic at that...
I hope this goes well! This fic is inspired by other fics like Brockton's Celestial Forge by LordRoustabout
For those who have no idea what the Celestial Forge is... It's a document of powers (related to crafting) from various jumpchains that a character can receive by gaining points (known as CP). These powers can range from gaining knowledge on how to build automated mining devices to Gundams.
The 'standard' method of gaining CP is every 2k words, add 100CP to your 'bank' and then roll for a power your character receives. If there isn't enough CP in the bank to gain a specific perk/power, the roll fails, but if there's enough, you remove the CP from your bank.
Those are the typical rules but I'm going with altered ones, which I'll list at the end of this chapter.
I'll post a more edited and revised version on Ao3 (eventually), but this version will be updated more quickly compared to the Ao3 version due to being my 'guinea pig'.
Again, updates will be inconsistent.
Cover Image by Kanoe504
UMP45 ducked into an empty building. The echoes of combat had long since faded. Her body was not broken but it was far from good condition. False skin ripped, Artificial tears fell from her exhausted eyes, memories kept flashing through her digimind even a few days later as she fell to her knees.
Memories of how UMP40 helped her.
Memories of how UMP40 become family.
Memories of how she had to kill UMP40.
If…
If she managed to survive long enough, she'd find whoever made them do this. And she'd make them pay. It didn't matter how long it'd take. She'd just need to find them, kill them and hopefully… make her way to the Maldives.
For UMP40.
"Damn it all," UMP45 whispered to herself. She closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing, eventually getting her chaotic emotions under some semblance of control. Her yellow eyes scanned the building she now found herself in.
It was a typical home in one of the nearby towns; if not for the fact it was in ruins, it'd have been quite comfortable. Furniture was strewn around and remnants of photos and tiny trinkets of the happy family that once lived within laid on the floor, as if mocking her.
UMP45 glared back before getting up back onto her feet, her hands roaming around her body to double-check her supplies. Four magazines and with a quick diagnostic check, enough power to last her twelve more hours.
She'd need to find a power source, preferably something she can easily siphon. UMP45 searched the house, hoping that perhaps a fallen T-Doll may lay deeper inside of the house, but besides a single, rotting corpse… There was nothing.
Nothing besides a dinky key. But, now that she thought about it, the corpse was too fresh for someone who supposedly died during WW3 and it was too decayed for someone who could've died in the assault of Sangvis Ferri.
A bandit wouldn't make sense. A local perhaps? But that didn't really make sense either, Sangvis Ferri wouldn't let any new civilians near their main production line. Meaning he'd have to be from during or before the Third World War.
Examining the corpse, she found some more oddities. The corpse didn't carry much or anything that a survivor should've had. No weapon, no real supplies, and the corpse just seemed to be some dead civilian at first glance. What he did have were two things.
Well, five if you counted his torn-up jeans, worn shoes, and a ratty t-shirt. All of which fit a white zone more than where they currently were. But the first of the two items that this corpse had on him was a shoddy piece of metal worn on his knee, it almost looked like a knee pad for skaters but it was so poorly made that she wondered why someone would even wear it in the first place.
The second item on the corpse was a silver key, lying in his hand, the corpse positioned in such a way that seemed like it had been trying to open the living room door with it in its last moments.
"How strange." UMP45 commented.
Admittedly, the key in his rotting hands was well-made, and beautiful in a simplistic way. As if it was designed to represent the working man. She really couldn't help but feel entranced by it.
UMP45, after making sure the body wasn't trapped, gently reached to grab the silver key.
The moment her hand touched it, she froze. Soon after, she fell to the floor, her body convulsing wildly as her digimind was invaded by something. Screams of pain and pure agony escaped her lips. She didn't care if she would be found by something, nothing mattered to her right now besides doing anything to reduce the sheer amount of torture she was experiencing.
̷̧̨̡̨̞̻̫͙̊̿͐̇͐̎̀̍̃͒
̶̡̛̣̘̝̭̺̟̯͙́͆̄́̓̍̉̂͂͋̍̅̊̀͝ͅͅ
̵̥̦͈̠̩̐̉̔̏̀̑̀̽̇̕͠
̷̮̱̖̘͔̩̉̓̾̈̎̅͋̄͜͝N̶͖͂͌̇͒̈̕͜ồ̴̢̨̞̬̻̯̙͋͝ͅţ̵̢̨̧̨̝͖̲͉̟̗̬̯͉͉̉͊͊̎͆͑̇͜͝͝͠ ̸̨̛̜̫̪̓́̂̔͊̓̂̓̕m̸̡͒͋̉̌̋̎͑̃̑̋̓͛̌̕͘͝y̴͍̽̉͊̈́͐̇̈́̕̚͠͝ ̵̹͓̦̞̣͑̔o̷̖̗̫͈̦̣̺̼̻̭̙̗̭͉͓͑́͑̈͂̎̾̀̚͜͝r̵̞͍̝̺̎̋̑̓́̊͂̕͠i̵̧͔͔̗̓̆̄̉̋̊͗̕͝g̷͔̩̰̪̹̣̱̦̯͖̅̇́̓͂͐i̸̲͓͍͓̱̮̩̲͈̜͔̹̖͇̍̍̈̆̎̊̂̈́͒͝ǹ̷͔͔̞̠̹̠̦͐̋̀̅̽̈̿̐ͅȃ̷̢̡͎̯̦̫̩̥͇̼̯͇̙͕̰̹̒̈́̾͛̅̂͐͊͗̐̔́̽͠͠ͅl̵̰̾̂̽̾̾̓̒͋́̆͝ ̶̙̰͇̹̽̿́̅̇̋͆̒̿̑͒̐̚̚c̷̡͎̖̞͙͙̜̱̣͈̦̾͆͑̎a̶͍̝̓ṉ̶̹̬͉̩̠̲̩̀͑̐̔̐͛̾͋̈́̊̕̚͘͜d̸̡̢̝̺̗̻̗͖͛ḯ̴̛͙̱͖̔͌̓̈́̍̈́́̾̽̈́̒̒́͌͘d̵̛̺͙̭̫̭̤̣̲̟͖̼̞̼̋͛̋̇͛̀͋̔͒̈́̔̄̎̕͝͠a̶̧̧̢̻̭̗̩͈̖̗͍͍̪̟̪̦͙̿͂́̃͑͒͗̍̉̇̍̏͒̀̂̕t̵̘̫̗̙͙̋e̷̢̛͇̝̝͈͇̻̣̣̱͇̙͙͍͖͎̍̒͒̉͆.̶̬̜̦̱̼̼͈̝̫̼̜̓͊̿͂͘̚͝ͅ ̸̨̤̫̤̲͉͔͇͉̄͋̾̏̓̈̕͘͝
̷̧̨̡̨̞̻̫͙̊̿͐̇͐̎̀̍̃͒
̶̡̛̣̘̝̭̺̟̯͙́͆̄́̓̍̉̂͂͋̍̅̊̀͝ͅͅ
̵̥̦͈̠̩̐̉̔̏̀̑̀̽̇̕͠
A rumbling, incomprehensible voice in her head! Invading everything.
Everything that she experienced, everything that she knew! The thing inside of her invaded every crevice, every memory, every feeling. It didn't care about anything but examining her as if she was nothing more than a particularly interesting insect.
̷̧̨̡̨̞̻̫͙̊̿͐̇͐̎̀̍̃͒
̶̡̛̣̘̝̭̺̟̯͙́͆̄́̓̍̉̂͂͋̍̅̊̀͝ͅͅ
̵̷̥̦͈̠̩̮̱̖̘͔̩̐̉̔̏̀̑̀̽̇̉̓̾̈̎̅͋̄̕͜͠͝
N̶͖͂͌̇͒̈̕͜ồ̴̢̨̞̬̻̯̙͋͝ͅţ̵̢̨̧̨̝͖̲͉̟̗̬̯͉͉̉͊͊̎͆͑̇͜͝͝͠ ̸̨̛̜̫̪̓́̂̔͊̓̂̓̕m̸̡͒͋̉̌̋̎͑̃̑̋̓͛̌̕͘͝y̴͍̽̉͊̈́͐̇̈́̕̚͠͝ ̵̹͓̦̞̣͑̔o̷̖̗̫͈̦̣̺̼̻̭̙̗̭͉͓͑́͑̈͂̎̾̀̚͜͝r̵̞͍̝̺̎̋̑̓́̊͂̕͠i̵̧͔͔̗̓̆̄̉̋̊͗̕͝g̷͔̩̰̪̹̣̱̦̯͖̅̇́̓͂͐i̸̲͓͍͓̱̮̩̲͈̜͔̹̖͇̍̍̈̆̎̊̂̈́͒͝ǹ̷͔͔̞̠̹̠̦͐̋̀̅̽̈̿̐ͅȃ̷̢̡͎̯̦̫̩̥͇̼̯͇̙͕̰̹̒̈́̾͛̅̂͐͊͗̐̔́̽͠͠ͅl̵̰̾̂̽̾̾̓̒͋́̆͝ ̶̙̰͇̹̽̿́̅̇̋͆̒̿̑͒̐̚̚c̷̡͎̖̞͙͙̜̱̣͈̦̾͆͑̎a̶͍̝̓ṉ̶̹̬͉̩̠̲̩̀͑̐̔̐͛̾͋̈́̊̕̚͘͜d̸̡̢̝̺̗̻̗͖͛ḯ̴̛͙̱͖̔͌̓̈́̍̈́́̾̽̈́̒̒́͌͘d̵̛̺͙̭̫̭̤̣̲̟͖̼̞̼̋͛̋̇͛̀͋̔͒̈́̔̄̎̕͝͠a̶̧̧̢̻̭̗̩͈̖̗͍͍̪̟̪̦͙̿͂́̃͑͒͗̍̉̇̍̏͒̀̂̕t̵̘̫̗̙͙̋e̷̢̛͇̝̝͈͇̻̣̣̱͇̙͙͍͖͎̍̒͒̉͆.̶̬̜̦̱̼̼͈̝̫̼̜̓͊̿͂͘̚͝ͅ ̸̨̤̫̤̲͉͔͇͉̄͋̾̏̓̈̕͘͝
̷̧̨̡̨̞̻̫͙̊̿͐̇͐̎̀̍̃͒
̶̡̛̣̘̝̭̺̟̯͙́͆̄́̓̍̉̂͂͋̍̅̊̀͝ͅͅ
̵̥̦͈̠̩̐̉̔̏̀̑̀̽̇̕͠
All of what made UMP45 herself was laid bare to whatever invaded her head.
̷̧̨̡̨̞̻̫͙̊̿͐̇͐̎̀̍̃͒
̶̡̛̣̘̝̭̺̟̯͙́͆̄́̓̍̉̂͂͋̍̅̊̀͝ͅͅ
̵̥̦͈̠̩̐̉̔̏̀̑̀̽̇̕͠
Ĭ̴̭͍̞͖͖̖̫̠̟̘̯̫̝͇̗̙͓̩̮̘̹̹͈̺͔̹͓̪̦̍͆̿̽̓̄́̓̓̉̑̈́̽͛͐́͝͝'̸̢̛͓̱̜̇̕͝͝͝l̸̙͔͇̠̫̮̀͂̏̆̀̓l̴̡͙̞̪̼͚͈̯̯̹̟̻̪̠̦̠͕̲̦̯̥̠̙̭͚͕̗̝̠̍͠ ̵̧̯̞̰̙͈͖͎͈̝̞̘̩̝̭̟̺͇̺̲̗͔̥̪̄̂̾̊̚ͅh̴̡̞͉̗̲̲̣͙̺͓͎̤̝͍̩̩͎̗͔̘̺͖͓̼̦̝͜͝ą̷̨̡̢̭͈̰̙̥̠̘͙̗̥͈̘̙̣̲̠̞̼͚͊̑̆̎̅̏̈́̏͗́̀̉͋̌͋̏͆͘͜͜͜͠ͅṽ̷̙̜̖̬͈̻͒̑̍̅͊̋̓̈́̐̑̑̈̅̀̍͂̕̚̚͠e̶̡̢̜̩͙̺̻̜̙͉͎͙̘̰̙͚̝̗͊͆͂̉͆̌͋͗̎̌̊̓͂̚̕͘͠͝͝͝ ̴̡̲̠͙̯͈͓̘̝̤̖̠̼̰̗͎͓̋͛̐̀̀̉̕͘͠͝ẗ̸̡͈̻̖͚̤̤̥̫̣̤͕̱̈́̍͗̏̃͊̈́̃̿̿̉͌̈̚̚̕ơ̶̧̧̞͈͓͓̗̻̠̦̭̠̭̺̞̜̺̳͔̊͌̓̉̌̋̊͗̏̒̀̊͌̓̋̀͗̇̇̊̅͑̀̃͜͜͝͝͠ ̶̡̡̨̜̦̦̞̠͇̣̬̋̓̈̆͑̃͠m̵̡͓̤̹̳̞̗̜̩̻̹͕̙̣̙̜͙̗͌̀͐̔̔̓́̀̍̾̏̆̓͜͝ͅǫ̵̛̯̮̭͉͙̱͚͚̘̙͙̘̰̹̭̖̺͙̰͔͇̝̀̅́͆̎̑͝͝d̴͚̝̾̀̔͋̅͑̓̀͊̍́́͐̀̈̈́͘͘͜͝͝ī̵͕̬̖̣͑͊͂̾͊̓̔́̊̂̈́͊̅͗͐́̈͗̆̊̍͊͛͂̄̄ḟ̴̡̡̛̻̯͇̦̍̽̍͑͋͋̎͊̎̋̈́̑͋̏͊̀̋̈̑̇̚̚͝y̷̗̯̥̠͖̝̮͙̞͕͙͓̘̑̈̉̒͌͂̒̏͊̉͆͗͆̆̊̀͐̏̕ ̷̨̧̛̛̖̯͔͚͈̈̈́̈̌̈́͊͂̓́͑̈́͌̕ẗ̸̢̡̧̢̨̘̲͖̠̬̜̟̠͇̜̗̝̜̪̲̹͈͓̝̳̠̬́͋͒͆͂͗͑̐̑͂͗͆̈͌̚͜͜͠͠͝ḧ̵̛̛͍̭̈́̑́̓̈́̔͂̀͋̈́͐͗̅̈́͗̾̈́̾̃͛̋̌̀̿͘͝ę̴̡͎͍̬̤̰̱̥͍̤̝̺̫̙̭̞̗͙̳̩͚̜̣͔̏̎̎̌͜ͅ ̸͎͍̤̖̠̩̂̈́͊͒̈́͆̇̋̑̋̚f̸̜̳̭̮̖̈́͐̊̌̾̓̋̓̾ơ̶̧͔͚̣̍̋͛͒́͗̋̇̎͘͜͝r̸̢̨̠̰̺̬̻̘͈͔̮̼̲̟͈͚̳͊͐̏́́̍̓̽͒͂͊͛̓̏̾́̚͝g̸̢̢̛͙̥̯͔͇̗̻̹̙̤͚͇̜̖͍̭̞̲͙̗̠̼͇͆͗́̈́̍̔͊͌̉̇͛̚̚͠͝͝͠͠ͅȩ̶͖͕͓͉͖̬̫̙͇͇̳̞͔̫̲̲͈̯͍̺̭̤̪̖̯̏͂͛͂͌̈̚̚͝͝ͅ.̵̢̱͉͖͓̝̳́́̐̍́̉͐̇̃̿͑̑̃̌̂̍̀̐͌͘͠͝͝.̷̹̼̼̭̗̥̣̼̦̪͈̤̩̫̘̇̂͛̓̾̃̊̋͂͐̐̓̓̄̈́͒͑̒͒̚̚͘͝͝.̷̢̧̡̛͓̜͖͙͚̠̩͕͓̮̝̻̘͇̗͎͎̟̘̾̄̎͒̂̐̔͂̄̃̄̂͋̂̂̅͑͜͠͝ͅͅ
M̸̛̻̂̍̊̍͂͋̄̓̿͐̓̽̿̚͠͠a̶̺̙͔͚̼̙̮̪̜͎̥̦̭̽̈́̾͆͊͋̉̎̅̇͋̔́̂̽k̵̢̯̬͓̻͖̋͜͜e̸̛̥̥͙̟̫̹͕͈̟̎͂͛͑̉̒͐̽̀̾͌̉̄͝͝ͅ ̶̡̧̬̭͎̙͍͕̙̠̼̺͚͂͊̿̏̓̚͝ị̶̧͓̜̟̯̞̮̫͎̗͕̯̣̏̿͐̈́̽̔͐̆̓͘͘͜͜͝ͅt̸̢͖͎̲͈̳͙̮͔̜̙͉̦͖̻̗͋̃́̍͛̓͒͜͠ ̴̣͎̪̖͎̙̈̽̆̇ä̴̧͉̹̞͙̳́͋̔͂́ ̷̖̃͂̽̕̕b̸͍̟͉̝̬̔̚î̵͍͔̬̤͘̕t̵͚̝̮͕̻̗̪̥̲̫͔̆͒͑̓͐̌ ̶̧̛͔̫̰̈̈̈́̏̿̅̓̆̐̎͊́͗̚͠͠e̴̢̨̳̺̥̱̱͕͔̰̎̆͌̆̏̌̓̈́̂̈́̚͘ͅa̸̡̢̢̛͉͖̼͚̺̭̫͔͉̔̋͛͒̿́͗̈̍̈́̚͝͝s̸̼̿̌̐î̷̫̍ͅę̴̗̄̔̇̈́̅̆́̃͋̅́͗̚͘͠r̸̨̛̞̠̳̜̹̘̂̍̅̾̇̽̚̚͝
̵̟̘̺̹̦̓̅͐̒̽̀͋̒̈̈̒̄̔̕͝B̷̡̯̺̜͎̄̔͐̾̈́͐u̶̢̧̦̙͙͉̺̳̹͎͔̤̗̱̮̍̒͗͒͋̾͒̿̋̾̄̉̏̉̕̕t̴̡̢̺͎͎͖͙̥̝̑̃͜͜ͅ ̶̦͎̘̺̘͇̺̖͎̦̞̈́̒̆̓̈͜ḭ̸̡̛̛͉̲̯̯̙̦̞̜͔͙̟̤͈̓̀̾̈̅̈́̄͑́̊̂͘͝ͅͅt̷͓̀̀̏̐͗̑̆̓̆̎͆͘͠'̶̛͉̠̃̍́͌̃́͊l̵̡͚͖͕̝̹͉̙̻̻̞̅̍́̇͝ͅl̴̢̢͎̱͓̠̰̟̭̦̭͙̣̒͜͠ ̴̢̧̤̖̫̗̯̖̗̼̻̟͉͚͕̃̀̀̔̔̌̔͘͝͝ḇ̴̤̬͍̹̺̖͇͍̤̗̃͂͛͐̀͆͒͆͘͜͠ě̴̡͇͉̣̏̽̓̈́ ̴͔͈̲̗̾͌͐͒̑̋̄͝ä̵̪̮̼̺̜́̾͊̆̚m̶̧͙̗͖̫̈́̎́̄̿̿̕u̴̺̫̫̞̯̜̦͂̆͆̓̓͑͐̊̎͌͑͠ş̴̧͖̳̗͔͖̩̝͍̣̇̌̾̽̈́̄̃̈́̅̔̌̀ͅi̷͇̖̥̝̻͇̟̳̮̹͉̪̥͒̇̐̇̑̓̌͛͘n̵̯̞̉͊̅͑̈́͗̐̍̉̎̈́̕͝ǧ̴̹͇̮͔͆̇̌̋͋ ̷̙̰̙̮̭͓̬̪͔̖̝̝͕̥̐̓̉̀͌̈́̃̕͜͝͝ͅͅt̶̢͈͍̠̗͓͍̟̘͔̜̟̹́͋̋̽̃̔̆̿͘͜͝͠͝ò̴̧̧̰̭̦͉͕̝̣̖̺̹̟̹͇̆͊̎͜ͅ ̶̤̙̫̠̳̄̅̌̐̐̀̀̈́̔s̶̱̦͖̰͆̆͗̎̾͛͌̋͗̃̈́́͝e̷͉̔̏͑͊̄̓̀͐̉̓͂̈́̂͐̈e̵͙̞͓̠̩͉͗̈̀͘͜ ̴̢͓͔̘̩̱̻̬̘̜̺̘̳̒̐̅̇́̐́͌̎̒̃̌̉̅ͅa̵̡͔̬͖͚̭̖͓̾̂̊̾͐̈́͐͐̅͛͜͝ͅ ̵̢̣͎͚͈̳̥̻̞̟̜̟̻͂̏́͋̇n̶̝̯̤͍͛̈́͋̉̓̀͂̋̕ȃ̸̢͕̻̀̈͑̌̎͌̇ţ̶̲̤̩̭̞̘͈̰̎̌̅̈́͗̓̀̋́̿̓̈̔̋̚̕ì̶͍͇̝͖̹̞̞̲̀͐̿̐͝ͅͅͅv̵̛͔̭̲̰̦͔͖̦̫̣͐̎̌̈͜͝e̶̜̮̩͌̇̈̿́́̈́̾̊͆̾̂͛̎'̸̛̝͇̥̳̣̐͛̒̆̃̚͝ś̷̛̛̮̘̫͍͐͐̌̊ ̶̛̘̳͈͉̥̲̳̺̘̭̟̋͊a̵̯̓p̵͙̗̜̟͕͉̘͈̜̙̂̍͂̂̎͑͌̆͛͜͠͝͝͝p̵̝̜̔ͅr̷̺̚͝o̷̒̔̂̂̔̔̂͌͘͜͠ä̸̛͉̝̫́̐̑͊̐̈́̌͊̔͆́̈́̚ć̴̢̜͖̩̫̙̲͓̪̪̖̗̯͇̳͗̓̌̈͑͂́̚͝͠͝h̸̢͍͙̙͎̥͔̫̃͛͗̄̍͑̆̉̒͝ͅ.̸̛͓̥͉̜̇̒͌̆͊͐̂̍̒̂̚͘̚͝
̷̧̨̡̨̞̻̫͙̊̿͐̇͐̎̀̍̃͒
̶̡̛̣̘̝̭̺̟̯͙́͆̄́̓̍̉̂͂͋̍̅̊̀͝ͅͅ
̵̥̦͈̠̩̐̉̔̏̀̑̀̽̇̕͠
"Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it STOP!" UMP45 desperately pleaded. She did anything she could, covering her ears and hugging her body close, but nothing worked. She couldn't even muster the ability to try to shut herself down to end this… pain.
̶̡̘͙̯̹̮̟̺͍̳̍ͅ
̷̧̨̡̨̞̻̫͙̊̿͐̇͐̎̀̍̃͒
̶̡̛̣̘̝̭̺̟̯͙́͆̄́̓̍̉̂͂͋̍̅̊̀͝ͅͅ
̵̥̦͈̠̩̐̉̔̏̀̑̀̽̇̕͠
̶̛͖̗̓̂̋̈́͒͊̽H̵̝̗̻̝̹̲̥͖͓͚͈͇̝̣̎̿͜é̴̢̤̟͕̦̝̩̻̲̼̞̗̥͇̋͊͛͐̇̀̈̈̕͘͝͠ ̸̣̹̺͆͐̏͛͂͌̈̄̚͠͝ẁ̵̧̢̮̪̰͕͉̰̥̏̅̅̍̊͗̅̑͋͒͑ä̶̤̝̜̝͇͚̭̼͔̘̬́́̀s̸̛̳̱̺͖̝̦̲̀́̽̒̈́̓̎́̈́ ̷̢̧̳̻̦̘͔͔̰̜͑̾̿̋̀̀͗̅̅̇̀́͘͜͝͠͝ͅͅf̵̮̣̻̬̹̪̜̥̱͘ͅą̸̨̬͈͍̞͓͍̪̝͚̪̥͕͙͚͋͐̎͑̌̓̂̈́͘̚͝͠ȓ̷͔̪̬͍̭̙̯̭͕͉̮̻̎͗ ̸̧̼̐̈́͑̍̓̈́̄͒́̄́̿̕̕̕t̸͙̣͚̗̳͓͍̩̣̤̖̗́̈̋̔͋̒̾̒̍͊͐͝o̶̝̮̼͇̒̈́̇́͋̂̈́̃̈͛̀̊̓̕̕͠o̴̧̰͉͓̜̹̍̒̔͛̎̃͋̉͋͊͘͝ͅ ̵͉͇̍̈͝b̷̨̰̟̭͎̭̌͐̾͛ǫ̷̡̧̻̣̹̠̭̪̝͙̲͚͕̮̊́͆̒̋̀͛̃̈́̔͂̇̈́̉̕͠r̵͈̫̼̓̅̈́͛͝ḭ̵̡̳͉͕͆̋̑͠ͅn̴̗̣̔͛̓̇g̴̨̞̰͍̅̌̽̉̿̎̀̆̌̇̇̍̋͠͝ ̵̭̩̟̓̓̈́̄̽́͌͋͌́͆̂f̶̮̮̒̃͆̇̔̆͋̽́͐̄̔̚͝ͅo̶̢̼̫̣͙̹̯̮̱͈̰͉̫̞̫̦͋͊͆̽͂̂̌ṙ̸̨͇̝̰͍̤̼̰͇̟͉͂̋̒́̏̐͘͘͘͝ ̵̛̥̠̙̄̓͗̉̋͐̈́̔͘̕̕͘m̵̡̩̙̟̟̖̟̹͔͎͍̳̟̩̪̮̓̀͑́͗̎́̇͋͗̂͋̇͜e̷̡̱̥̤̘̺̝̯̓̉́.̴̢̡̹̳͇͔̜̝͖̫͖̺̲̫̋̑̄̋̊̕ͅ
Ḩ̸̨̡̢̦͓̜͎̘͔̟͝m̷̡̨̭̫͇̙̬̬͚̮̘͕̺̐̋͊̊̓͑̐͆̉͛̋̌̊̎̕͜ͅm̶̡̭̔.̷̢͖͑̒͗͛̏̇̃͒̉́͂͑͆̑̆̈́͜͠.̷̧͎͓͇̰̟̮̦̙͐̐̄͋̀͛̕͠.̸̙̂̃̇̈̏̐͌͒́̎ ̴͖̺̫͕͖̓̾̄̾̑͗͘͝͠Ì̸̢̻̰̻̳̈́͋͆̓̊̿̎̆͌̉̇̚ ̷̧̥̗̫͇͎̮̹̪̦̭̳̣͕̭̭̄̍̓̓̃̽̀͌̆͒̐̍̕͜͝ą̷̡̖̹̞̹̯̯̼̻̞̩̼̱͑̋͐̌̋̅̕l̴̛̛̙͈̗͍̯̙̹̱̳̣̣̗̮̦͖̈́̌͗̆̑̎̌̊ș̸̨̬͚̰̱͔͔͖̝̔ơ̴̡̛̜̗̜͚͙̇̂̑̈́̅ ̶̞͇̟̹̦̩͍͕̈́̎̂̅̆͒̈́̀̍̄̌̐̅͘͘͝͝ͅṣ̵͓͉̣͚̣̙̳͖̤͈͓̹̈́́̉̿̂̍͘̚ȇ̷͍̩̺͓̺͑̀͐̏͗̓̒́͑̚͠e̴̛͎̭͖̜̹͇̻̖̫̾̀͋͊̓͆̏͜͝ ̸̡̪̩̹͊̊̆̅̑̎̿̈́̈́͝t̶͈̤̫̺̫̝͖͓͚̑͌̄͜h̵̻̻͈͖̹̜͎̦̪̙̖̔̂͜͝ä̴̛͈̝͉̤̳̙̻̘̪̮̲̙͉́̄̎̿̈́̍͒̿͆̈̇̓̓͜t̵̲͈̰̽͂̈́͋̈̌̄̈́̕ͅ ̵̙̲̈́̈͂͌́͐͆͗͆́͒̓͝͝y̷̤͇̯̭͕͇͍̥̰̠͉̫̪̫̟͆̇̔̎̂ǫ̴̭͍̙͉̥͖̙͓̭̤̞͎͖͎̥͛͜u̶̧̧̖̬͕̜̞͙͈̣̟͕̦͍̞͚͇͑̄̍͐̀̀̎̆̿͠r̷̢̢̡̩̬͕͕̝͎͊͆͌̓̃̍͝ ̷̢̢̜̩͖̼̭̳̱̱̝̜̰̣͚̈́͂̃̒̋̓̈́͌͜͠m̷̨̖̦̯̤͍͗͆͋̃̈͒̌͗̇̂̈̽͆̈̊̾͠ͅͅę̷̻̻̝̯͍̳͙̩̤͚̜̮̟̲̩̠̌͂̈͐ṃ̶̢̡̨̧͍͇͎̠̠̫̠̙̚ơ̴̘̞̲̘͍̜̣̲̰̲͇͍̫͇͓̈́̑̎̽̄̈́̈̈́̐͆̔̉̒̈́͠ȓ̶̡̡͈̳̯̠͈̭̬̃i̶̧̨̛͔͚͔̻̜͓̜̗̮̩̠̿̔̔̽̅̇̿̉͌̎͒̃̿̕ḙ̷̩̹̭̬̗̫̘̞̈͠s̸̨͍͉̩͓̱̻͌́͐̊́̌͊͌͊̎̍̎́̾̒͝ ̶̨̨̧̟̺̞͚͉̦̦̩͎̭̣̯͈͙̊͊́͋a̵͔̩̭͎̜̞̖̫͎͉͛̀̀̉́̾̏̿̂͂̐̌̽́̚̕r̶̪̤̫̟̿̓͑̈́̆̽͂̍̈͑̓́͘͝͝͝͝ȩ̵͚̜͚̺̗̭͍͙̟̦͂́̀̎̄͑̉͊̔͘ ̴̹̻̪̭̬̬̱̤̭̜̞̱̗̍͂b̵̨̰̥͉̲̣̆̾̀̀̏̀̃̀̃̊̔̽͂͛́̚͜e̴̗̤͒̄̑ì̴̯̭͓͙̞͚̹̦͑̽̓̂̇̅̃͋̒̾̒͋ņ̴̛͉̹̰͍̟̱̺̯́̅̈̏̉̄͗͂̚g̷̛̲̳̺̘͖̭͎͉͓̏͌̏̑̔͌͌̆͗̒̀͑̃͆̌̕.̴̧͖̣̤͕͕̮̱̩͎͔̞͋̋̂̏͋͂̚̚͜͝ͅ.̵̼̍͂͗͊̄́̔̈͠.̸̡̲͉̦͕̤̼̣̣̝̱̬̯̣̂̎̈́̿̊͜͜
̴̯̗̬͍͇͒̐͑̒͜
̵̙͉̈́͂̈̌̔͂͒̐͂̕͝Į̸̢̝̗̫̠̟̠̦̝̯̞̭͉̞͚͐̈͛͌͌̊͘͝ ̴̨̛̙̾̽̃͂͊̅́̕͠s̵͚̓̋u̷̢̨̢̦̬̹̼͕̥̮̝̫̪͙͓͑̌ͅp̵̠̖̔͆̂̓͆͋̑̅̀͗̒͛͂̈̎͠p̷̣͙͚̥̗͚̜̫̮̦̦̯͖̩̺̗̈́̾͊̍͊͌̄̅̐̓̿̋̾͝o̷̡̤̫͓͕̹̦̲̙͇̗̭̦̒̀̄̏̕͜ŝ̸͍̹̩̱̝̠̟͖̝̣̼̫̠̃̾̊̑́͂̚͜͜͠ͅͅe̴̢̛̤̙̥̻̻̭̪̬͉͎͍̩̖̣̯͌͂ͅ ̵̡̘͓̥͙̫̪͋̋̇̏̋̂ͅÌ̸̡̬̟̯̥̝̠̉̐̽̄͐͑́͑͆͝ͅ ̷̧͈̅̿͋̉͂͛̎͒̀̾͐̏̓̈́̕̚͝c̴͈̬̺͎͈͐̔̈̇̎̈́̎̈́̀̈́̈́̒ȁ̴̡̨͇̪͎̪͌͆̈́͂̑̐̃́̓͑ͅņ̸̨̮̱̀͒̈́̆̇̀͝͝ ̷̡̼̳̰̦̰͉̯̘̤̻̦̝̬͑͊̊̍̿̂̚͜d̸̘̙͈̻̣̘̞̹́̃̇͒͑̏͋̈̒͘̚͠͝ͅę̸̢̧̡̫̫͔̲̝̥͖̠̳̫̗̬̻́́͑̔͛̍̓̾͆̈́̈́̋̇͝͝l̵̨̈̈́͌́à̸͔̘̤̙͔̫̩̰̃̓̒͐́͆̓̆̒͜ͅy̷̻̺͈̬̹̯̲̪͇̼̙̤̦̤̽̂̏ ̶̨̝̥̤̳͖̤́̾̀̌́̀͊̾̀̔͠͠i̸̧̭̞͉̳̼̼͕͕̋̇͌̽̂͌̈̓̊̚̚ṯ̴̢̡̡̲̫̳͎̥̳̯͎͕͍̲͔̓̿̎̆̎̀̃̽͑̿͂͒̋̿̽̀ ̴̙͎̦̲̞̣͎̠̗̤̫͙̹͓̗̓͒̎͊̇͐͆̀̀̂͊̍͊̕̕͜͝͠s̷̡̬̫̬̣͎̼̻̤̣͖̮̃̊́̆̐̍͐̈̋̇͝ò̴̘̭̟̦̩̻̮̂̊̋̅̓̃̀̿̚m̸͚̼̝̺͐́̅̌̓̓̐̋̇͝e̷̡̨̹̺͕̬͕̎͂̆͐̊̓̿͛̎͑̿͘̕͠ẉ̴̫͔̭̝̫̣͓̖̘̺͎͙̩͂̎̾̆̊̌̔́́͝ḩ̴̼̬̬͖͖̣̏͌̉̀͌̋ȧ̵̝̭̲̠̜͖̙̻̃̆̓̚͝ͅt̵̨̠̜͇̩͕̻̒͐̉̊͑͌̽͊͌̿̂̇͌͑̒͗.̷̠̖͓͖̹̠̐͂̓̊͒̓̈́̕ͅ
̷̨̧̢̼̘̰̗͎̪̝͖͕̮̻̻̓̀͆͗̽͘
̷̰̖͖͐̅̓̍̓̇͆̈͆̔͌̚
Then it stopped.
UMP45 let out a shaky sigh and slowly opened her eyes to see…
Stars. She was standing in a field of stars. But the more she looked around, the more her current surroundings changed.
It wasn't just a field of stars, but it was a familiar-looking beach. Slowly swaying palm trees, elegantly standing around a field of sand and clear water. Gentle waves caressed the shore as the wind delicately brushed against UMP45's face. The entire place was a picture-perfect beach.
Because it was. It was the exact same beach that UMP40 had shown her. The only exception was that it was night rather than day. The stars were far too big to be regular stars, some seemingly close enough that it almost looked like UMP45 could nearly touch them if she jumped while others seemed so far away that even the most advanced relic platform couldn't even shoot at it.
Nevertheless, the stars were beautiful. Each separated into their own respective constellations. Thirty-seven by her count.
For a single second, a small part of UMP45… a small, insignificant, illogical part of her hoped that maybe she'd died. That the afterlife was real and that T-Dolls, unlike what many humans claimed, could enter it, and be able to see UMP40 again. But it was too good a thought to be true.
A small glowing string akin to a lasso was tethered to her chest as if it could penetrate her body and connect to her core directly. The ethereal string was made up of purely blue flame but despite that, it didn't burn her. And strangely enough, she instinctively reached toward it, hesitantly grasping it in her hand.
She curiously stretched it and found that it looked like it had no limit to how far it could stretch.
A small voice, not the one that invaded her digimind, but a more comforting voice told her to throw it. Normally, she wouldn't be following the orders of a mysterious voice in her head, no matter how soft or nice it sounded, but something was different.
And so she did. She didn't know why. It was like her body was on autopilot. The string flew threw the air in a graceful arc before promptly missing one of the closer stars, with several nearby stars following it as it seemed to run away. One of them somehow tilted itself before shaking.
It took her a moment or two to realize it seemed to be laughing at her.
UMP45 narrowed her yellow eyes and tried again. She was almost successful the second time but the bunch of stars that she targeted continued to run away.
But finally, on the third attempt, she caught one. It attempted to run away like the others but eventually stopped, letting UMP45 drag it towards her. As soon as the star got close enough for her to reach out to touch it. It didn't dim, but the bright light, somehow, wasn't uncomfortable to look at. Instead…
Warmth. It felt warm. Like one of 40's hugs. The ethereal lasso then pulled it close to her chest before her body absorbed the star.
UMP45's body stiffened as knowledge flooded her head. Knowledge that she shouldn't have.
The star came from a subtype of a constellation called Knowledge. Specifically, the Abilities and Skills section. It was rather self-explanatory.
As for the star itself, it was called IMPACT CALIBRATION. And despite the loud banging that came with her saying its name within her thoughts, it was much more than she realized. All of her training before that.. T-that disastrous mission was on her marksmanship. All to make herself worthy of the attention of a commander long gone.
But this star didn't give her knowledge on marksmanship, but rather knowledge on repairing practically anything. Whether it be a computer or her own weapon, she could see how to repair it with just a few other items.
Well that, and she now knew how to perform percussive maintenance on both mechanical things and on people. Unsurprisingly, humans were fragile, even more than she originally thought, if you hit them in the right places.
The world filled with stars began to shimmer before the worn-down home she originally stood in returned.
UMP45 blinked and a quick check of her surroundings confirmed that she was in the exact same position that she was in before that whole… experience. Which meant she was on the floor, hugging herself.
UMP45 shuddered before getting back up onto her feet. The silver key was still in her hand. It stared back at her as if taunting her to use it. After all, it wasn't just that star that entered her mind. Three other stars joined too, she just couldn't visualize it properly at the time.
At least, that's what her mind instinctively told itself. She was remarkably calm
at this, she should have been mad or trying to figure out what happened but it was like she just come out of a relaxing sauna, all her worries about what happened to her seemingly slipped away.
The fact that… whatever gave her these abilities existed lent credence to higher powers existing. Guess humans got something right but that also led to several questions of her own. If not for how sedated she felt, she probably would've begun raging that they'd let UMP40 die.
But that same comforting voice inside of her told her, that none of them would answer.
UMP45, more carefully this time, inspected the silver key in her hands, its form having shifted into something slightly different. It had now become more practical, more streamlined. It was still beautiful but not in the same way as it had been previously.
She walked over to a nearby door and hesitantly put the silver key inside of the keyhole, despite the silver key's size, it slotted in perfectly. A quick twist and a step and she was no longer in the ruined house but rather in a perfectly blank white cube.
Some small trinkets were on the floor and it was clear that someone had used this blank room before and she'd simply inherited many of its features and connections. Her powers? She supposed it would be apt to call her new abilities powers…
Her powers informed her that it was called an Entrance Hall. A place that connected this pocket dimension to any other facilities that her powers could give her. Of which there was… two. A Workshop and a Weapons Lab.
The Workshop wasn't anything special. Except for a single, tiny, minute detail. Anything made within it would be 'fiat-backed'. Essentially, they'd regenerate within the span of two days.
Besides the fact that this 'small' feature existed, everything else about the Workshop was relatively mundane. Nevertheless, it was extremely useful for her purposes.
UMP45 hummed to herself as she walked through one of the two doors in the Entrance Hall, entering the Workshop to inspect it. And exactly as the description implanted into her mind, the Workshop was filled with some basic tools and equipment, alongside a small cache of supplies to get started.
It was designed for general blacksmithing and construction, functioning as a decent starting workshop for both but not excelling in either.
Although, notably, some of the supplies had already been used, likely by the corpse that she found the key on. That would be annoying, considering these basic supplies were limited. But there were supplies that would be replenished by 'fiat'.
It was something she had, again, inherited from the previous holder of the key. Besides the Workshop and the Weapons Lab, she had a Rare Material Cache containing exotic materials that she hadn't even heard of before.
Ten kilograms of materials that were deemed to be resistant to 'lightsabers', whatever they were.
Beskar, Phrik, Ultrachrome, and refined Cortosis. All ready to be crafted as she saw fit. Alongside some other exotic materials including the hide from a dragon. Whether it was an actual dragon or something that was just called a dragon was left up in the air.
All of this would be replenished after a year, so she'd be able to experiment freely so long as she was careful about it.
But she didn't know the full extent of their capabilities besides the fact that the alloys and metal were lightsaber-resistant. Therefore, she'd have to test it out when possible but the name, lightsaber, still implied many things. It could be a genuine blade that used lasers or it could be closer to a plasma weapon, either way, that meant the material could potentially be used as armor against more advanced weaponry.
Namely, the plasma weapons that Sangvis Ferri units used. Quite useful.
UMP45 left the Workshop with some visible excitement in her eyes. The last remnant of the corpse's 'gifts' was inside the Weapons Lab, which in itself was highly advanced, capable of analyzing, testing, and improving all kinds of weapons according to her newfound abilities. She'd have to use it later, maybe she could improve
Entering the Weapons Lab, UMP45 froze. Stopping right at the firing range for a few moments, lost in her thoughts before continuing on.
In the lab proper, were a series of 'holotapes'. Simply put, they were advanced VHS tapes. But what interested UMP45 the most was the data contained within these holotapes.
According to the knowledge inside of her digimind, they contained a series of blueprints, of a wide variety, from a company known as RobCo… including their versions of automatons.
Automatons, not T-Dolls, with simpler AI rather than Neural Clouds. But if she could even get one, it would give her a better chance of survival, and she wouldn't have to worry about them dying as much due to how simple they were. More bodies to be used to get her closer to her objective.
UMP45 gently picked up one of the RobCo Holotapes before she frowned, as a sudden realization hit her, her mood plummeting. They were tapes. They weren't something she could upload to her digimind.
She needed a tape player. Thankfully, they still used lasers so something simple could read them. The problem was finding something simple enough that could still play it.
And she wasn't a good engineer either. So, she'd likely not be able to build the damn things anyway.
UMP45 stared at the small stack of tapes, all waiting for their blueprints to be built. She closed her eyes, and softly let out a single word.
"Scheiße."
With help from IMPACT CALIBRATION, UMP45 managed to make some quick repairs to her chassis. It wasn't the best, considering she was missing many important materials to correctly fix her artificial skin, so she ended up using some Beskar to add some extra protection to her exposed parts. It wasn't pretty, but it was effective.
IMPACT CALIBRATION made sure that it wouldn't cause her any problems beyond making the skin on her arms and legs have sections made out of light grey Beskar. She didn't exactly feel good about using a somewhat unknown material but it was lighter, even if she was a T-Doll, she was more kitted for electronic warfare than straight physical activities.
But now, she had left her Entrance Hall. IMPACT CALIBRATION gave her the knowledge on how to repair things, but she still needed the materials to do so. So, she'd have to scavenge supplies wherever she could and from whatever she could.
The first two items that she would be prioritizing would be car batteries, for her to siphon energy from, and a tape player for obvious reasons.
With her Access Key being able to use any door to access her Entrance Hall, she didn't need to stay in one particular area. So, she could just keep moving forward, occasionally stopping to put her scavenged materials into her Entrance Hall.
And that's what she did for the next few days. Pulling out car batteries, siphoning power from them, and grabbing whatever caught her eye.
It was a long week or so, being all alone. All alone wandering the landscape with nothing but her thoughts and haunting memories to keep her company. Those same memories kept her going, making sure that she kept trying to reach civilization. She wasn't successful, only finding abandoned ruins and forests, but gathering supplies and tinkering with her abilities kept the worst of the memories at bay.
At least, she'd managed to get a small cache of car batteries that she could keep going for a few weeks. However, she'd still need to find a more consistent source of power.
The problem was that a consistent source of power needed to be bought, she couldn't use any public facilities for T-Dolls due to likely being considered dead. And illegal dolls, like her, weren't exactly welcomed at those facilities.
And to make things a bit more annoying… her abilities or whatever they were, given to her by whatever ass of a being was out there, hadn't given her access to more of those stars again. But she had a feeling that she would… just not now. Something was simply blocking her from doing so.
UMP45 let out a long, drawn-out sigh. Going back to her power supply problem, she had a few options.
She could probably sell some components through more illegal channels and eventually save enough money to access illegal charging facilities.
She could siphon power from city generators but that was likely even riskier than the previous option with constant patrols and inspections. With her specs, direct conflict was a horrible idea.
And there was also mercenary work. It paid well and she could probably bribe people to use necessary facilities. But it came back to her specs. She barely made it past her damn commander's standards. But it'd be the most profitable in the shortest amount of time.
A quick check of her internal systems showed that she had about fifteen hours before she had to begin siphoning the power out of her remaining car batteries.
UMP45 continued to wander the ruins of the newest town she'd found herself in. Hopping from abandoned town to abandoned town was all that she could do right now. She didn't know where actual settlements were, just a general idea due to remembering which direction Griffin & Kryuger inserted their forces in.
But every single town she came across was so far abandoned… or rather cleared. Plasma burns layered over buildings, freshly charred corpses laid on the streets, and broken weapons bereft of the soldiers and police officers that once wielded them.
UMP45 slowly strolled over to one of the corpses, one of the unlucky police officers who tried to resist. The flesh on his face was melted off. Small sections of his skull were exposed to the world, bits of bone fell onto the ground as she examined the body.
Perhaps she should've felt something. Sympathy. Pity. Anything. But nothing. He was simply a stranger to her, no one. And yet his eyes stared back at her as if pleading for help.
UMP45 grabbed the weapon still in his hand, a pistol, and slid it out from his limp grasp. The weapon wasn't in good condition but with a little help from IMPACT CALIBRATION, it could be fixed.
UMP45 stood back up, making sure the pistol's safety was on. It took a few moments of searching but once she found it, she quickly threw it inside her Entrance Hall to examine at a later time.
"A poor vacation spot, that's for sure," UMP45 muttered to herself, continuing to search the town for anything useful. There weren't any Sangvis units in the area that she detected when she first spotted the town but it was still good to be stealthy when searching the ruins.
And then she found it.
In an inconspicuous house, a vintage-looking tape player. It was, of course, in horrible condition. But still within the realm of being repairable. A small grin made its way onto her face as she pulled out her silver key and quickly stepped into her Workshop.
The RobCo Holotapes weren't extremely powerful as far as UMP45 knew, it had the designs for various automatons and even something called Liberty Prime, which was a stupid name but even something called an assaultron could be a good thing to vent at.
Her hands weren't meant to do repair work nor could she simply download the skills into her head without one of Sangivs or IOP's data packages, but she could let IMPACT CALIBRATION guide her movements like it did when she welded the Beskar onto her body.
It was, to be honest, great work for what she had available. The tape player looked as good as new, if not for the fact she had to make the outside out of bashed-together metal from various pieces of scrap.
"Finally…" UMP45's eager smile soon fell. She'd been so focused on surviving that she forgot another key fact about tape players. She didn't have a monitor of some kind to play them on. It'd only be audio. And she'd have to continue looking for something compatible with this old thing.
"Oh, you have to be kidding." UMP45 narrowed her eyes at the Holotapes, her grip on the tape player tightened causing it to bend slightly, "Scheiße." She said softly, trying to calm herself down.
"Scheiße!" It didn't work. The Holotapes were now scattered all across the floor of her workshop, "Useless." Her chest heaved up and down.
But before she could continue letting out her frustrations a sudden, familiar pressure hit her. It wasn't painful like before. Time seemed to slow down as she blinked.
̷̧̨̡̨̞̻̫͙̊̿͐̇͐̎̀̍̃͒
̶̡̛̣̘̝̭̺̟̯͙́͆̄́̓̍̉̂͂͋̍̅̊̀͝ͅͅ
̵̥̦͈̠̩̐̉̔̏̀̑̀̽̇̕͠
Ḿ̴͚̬̝̰̰͐̈͛̇͂̋́̅̑̿̇͘͝͝͠ì̷̤͈̘́̋ͅļ̷̛̹̱͉̲͇̟̱͚̻̥͍̞͇͍̓͋̾̌̆́̿̇̋̄̉͐̇́͘e̶̢̧͉͉̞̺̹̻̮̾̋̽̓͊̊̾̔ͅs̴̡̛͓͆̉͌͋̐̓̉͂̋͒̋͆̃͑͊͠ͅẗ̴̯̯̳͖̝̞́̀̓̐̍̈̊̑͒̊̀́̈̍͝o̸̡͚̝͉̭̼̞̭̮̅̒̔̎̈́́͗͜ṅ̶̠̳̩͉̰̫̝̫̩̟̯̊ͅe̴͍̊̃͂̂ ̷̲͇͈̥̱̲̬͉͛R̸̡̮̼͓̞͕̗̦̹̹̭̹̱̒̄̀͐̋̀̈́͐͌̈̚͜͝e̶̢͚̝̣͋̀̾̏a̷̢͔̗̹͚̜͓̥͍̟̭͈̤̖̙̳̒͌͐̀̂̄͐̎̅͆͊͘͘͠c̵̤͋͋̈́͗̾́͑̊̿̈́̑̓͊͌̾͝͝h̶̨̢̟̹̼̙͍̝͕͓̱͙̭͍̠̳̠̎͐͗͂̐͌̊͘ë̷̬͇̺͇͇̿̅̒̒͒͘ͅd̷̨̢̛̛͔̥͖̪̬̺̼̑̓͑̿͘̚
̷̧̨̡̨̞̻̫͙̊̿͐̇͐̎̀̍̃͒
̶̡̛̣̘̝̭̺̟̯͙́͆̄́̓̍̉̂͂͋̍̅̊̀͝ͅͅ
̵̥̦͈̠̩̐̉̔̏̀̑̀̽̇̕͠
Her vision became fuzzy for a moment before her surroundings shifted.
And suddenly she was back in the ethereal atmosphere of the field of stars, still looking like the Maldives. She stood in the middle of the beach, the constellations circling around her, almost curiously.
This time, she took a few more moments to examine all the constellations. Some were unique while others seemed to be connected to each other.
It took a few seconds of staring at each of the constellations for their names to come to her. And now knowing what they contained, she focused on the Knowledge constellations, which were separated into subtypes such as Mundane or Future Tech.
The Knowledge Mundane constellation would be the one she's aiming for. UMP45 pulled out the ethereal lasso and with a bit of a struggle, managed to snag one of the stars and yank it towards her.
It tried to resist but gave up after UMP45 dug her feet into the sand and kept on pulling, eventually letting her absorb it into herself.
And that was how UMP45 gained Peak ADVENT Technology
Knowledge flooded her mind once more, memories of an alien invasion and the days that followed, of how an alien civilization integrated its technology into human society. UMP45 remembered joining the ADVENT coalition as a scientist before defecting to join the Resistance against them. Still, the magnetic rifles, the body armor, the various monitors and cameras used to police a population, all of the blueprints and the skills needed to make them were added to her memory banks.
She felt a little cheated really.
Well not really cheated. A veritable encyclopedia of advanced technology was inserted into her mind. But the thought that this was considered mundane was both annoying and amusing.
She even got knowledge of some basic genetic modification techniques.
A slight problem came from the fact that it needed something called Elerium. But her mind wandered back to the crystals that existed in that Rare Material Cache. If those could be used as substitutes…
As the field of stars faded from her sight, she let out a soft laugh.
She was going to have fun with this.
Perks Received:
UMP45:
-IMPACT CALIBRATION (PREY)(100cp) (Knowledge: Abilities and Skills) - Gained by UMP45, Chapter 1
Also known as percussive maintenance. You're good at repairing things, simple items can be repaired with a few spare parts and a wrench, which is fortunate because most of Talos I's equipment is simple for ease of fabrication. Of course you can fix almost anything with the right parts and a little time and now know just the right way to smack an item with a wrench to fix minor faults(Or knock someone dead)
-Peak ADVENT Technology (XCOM 2)(200cp) (Knowledge: Mundane) - Gained by UMP45, Chapter 1
Before you defected you were working in some of the most top secret black projects any human had access to. You have an encyclopaedic knowledge of all ADVENT technology, minus some of the genetic manipulation techniques and basically anything that would give away ADVENTs dark secrets.
CP Banked: 200
Rules:
Start off with 100cp banked at UMP's start, free 1 starting roll (=200cp). Gain 100cp in the bank for recipients every 1000 words but the bank's maximum only increases after a roll or purchase is made. The starting maximum in the bank is 400cp.
̷̧̨̡̨̞̻̫͙̊̿͐̇͐̎̀̍̃͒
̶̡̛̣̘̝̭̺̟̯͙́͆̄́̓̍̉̂͂͋̍̅̊̀͝ͅͅ
̵̥̦͈̠̩̐̉̔̏̀̑̀̽̇̕͠
Ţ̴̠̹̯͔̰̘͚̣͙̥͍̱͎̈́̏̈́̈h̶̡̨̢̨̛̛̛͖̱̥̙̠͔̼̪̻̩͇͉̬̭̬͕̖̱̤͈̰̺̱́̑͑͗́͒̓̽̌̂̒̓́̅̿̓͑̌̅͐͆́̚̚͠ͅe̶̗̩͚͔̭͊͐̂̌͆̓͝ ̵̩̻̦̱́̄̈́̑̾͌̇́̅̈̾́̂̕͜͠͠b̵̯̺̞̺͎̣͙͓̜̟͍̰̔̃́͊̌͋̅͒̐͑̿̈́̍͛̔̄̂͊̿̉̀̀̓̕͝͝͠͝å̷̩͈͌̓͂̀̎̾͛͆̉̂̀ņ̷̛̼̺̝͈̦̻̻̬̣̩͍̗̹̤̭̯̤̼̪̜̰̏͛̈́̃̀̈́̎͑̐̍͌͆̋̈́̌̈́̊̀̅̃̔̒̕̚͜͝͝ͅͅḱ̷͈̠̺͕̹̤ ̷̨̤̗̯̱̳̙̪̯̘̝͚̱̻͈̦̾̀͌ǐ̵͉͇̭̼͖͉̫̜̙͖̲̹̍̈̌̓̃͑̐̑̍͑͒͑̊̇͌̀͝s̴̛̤̝̟̞̺͉͇͈̩͖͓̪̖̲͋̿̃͌̊͘͘ͅ ̵̢̧̛͔̞̹̘̳͕̠̩͓̠̱͉̯̰̦̻̎̄͗̿͒̎͑̿̓͊̈́͘͜͜͠ͅş̴̧̝̞͈̩̪͇̫̣̲̰̦̻̹̺̹͛̓̽̈́̇́̽̑͒̀͋̀̀͊͌̎̀̆̃̾́̈́͋̚͝͝ͅh̷̢̧̬͓̭̜̰̬͙̞̠͚̼͓̬͈̟̙̤̯̯͖̲͍̣͖͌̈́̈́̑̑̍̍͊̀̈́̆̀͑͂͌͘̚̕̚͝͝a̴̧̛̲̩͓̰̟̩̗͚̣̫̪̤̳̤͌̓̎̾͜͝r̵̗͔͔̙͔̔́̎ę̵̛͚̌̽̔̏̎͑̆͌͗̒̑̌̉́̈́́̓̋̄̍͒͝d̶̨̯͇̟̱̜̞̠̥̞̘̀̑̽̈̉̋̂̆̒̚.̸̢̨̘͕̠͔̲̩̯̘͍͎̭̰̳̺̗̳̞̥̖̠̭̜̝̤͎͑̐̈́̾̓͗̀͒̈̇̅͂͗̑͛̌̓̿͂̕͘̚̚͘͜
̷̧̨̡̨̞̻̫͙̊̿͐̇͐̎̀̍̃͒
̶̡̛̣̘̝̭̺̟̯͙́͆̄́̓̍̉̂͂͋̍̅̊̀͝ͅͅ
̵̥̦͈̠̩̐̉̔̏̀̑̀̽̇̕͠
UMP45:
Gain a perk for every milestone she reaches. She has some influence in deciding the perks, the milestones need to be bigger after every new perk, and she always captures new perks for every milestone. Perks are essentially chosen manually by me instead of random.