Forged 1.05

January, 2010

8PM

I sat quietly in the backseat of Alan's car; the only source of light in the alley was from the headlights of Alan's car.

"You sure you're ready for this, Taylor?" Alan said, his face barely visible in the dim glow coming from the dashboard.

I nod, even though I can feel my heart trying to escape from my chest. "I am, I can do this Alan."

With that said I slip out of the car and into the shadows of the alley before Alan can try to convince me to wait a little longer before going on patrol. If I didn't go now, there'd always be an excuse to prolong it. Refusing to look back I turn and start walking to the entrance we came through, each step echoing with a metallic clang.

I hear the engine rev as Alan drives out of the valley and then I'm left with only the sound of metal on concrete as I turn onto the street and begin heading down the road following the chained fence on the outskirts of the trainyard.

I really needed to add some padding to the bottom of my prosthetic feet—something like rubber maybe—at this rate I wasn't going to ever stop any crime because all the criminals would hear me from an actual mile away.

Besides that one little issue, I found the rest of my suit to be amazing. My helmet, although simplistic in appearance, was equipped with some incredible tech. It looked akin to a bike helmet with a more pointed visor to make room for the filtration system. Miniscule cameras dotted the helmet providing 360 vision to the threat detection system tagging threats no matter where they came from.

"Everything okay so far?" Alan's voice came through on my helmet's audio system.

"Yeah, just thinking about some upgrades. The suit's a bit loud."

Shoulder mounted rifles prepared to fire rubber bullets sat on top on the shoulders of my torso piece which was a framework layered with panels of metal on tracks that could merge when guided by the threat detection system to cover any singular location on my torso to provide maximum protection wherever was needed.

My leg prosthetics which looked skeletal in nature but they provided enhanced speed, jum heights and tripled my carrying capacity. I could outrun, outjump and outlift any typical goon.

Then my arm prosthetics gave me my true firepower. Providing strength enhancements similar to my legs, they were also fitted with the minigun barrels revolving I had developed ages ago. Capable of rapidly dropping scores of thugs in your location!

All around I was a walking tank and shouldn't run into any problems against your everyday thugs.

Continuing my steady pace I amused myself by imagining the faces a pack of merchant trash would have if they bumped into me in the night. That is if they were even coherent enough to recognize the threat in front of them.

I stopped for a moment. Something was off…I whirled around towards the fence separating me from the train yard and listened. I could've sworn I heard…Yes! There it was again, what sounded like metal scraping against metal was disturbing the otherwise silent night.

"Alan, I think I got something, I'm hearing something being scraped against metal."

"I hear it too, you can approach but be careful."

Looks like it was time for a field test. I jumped over the fence with ease, clearing 10 feet in a single leap. The shock absorbers easily caught me when I landed on the other side and looked.

I heard Alan whistle "That's certainly some impressive work you got there."

"Thanks Alan, I think I could double the height if I really wanted to."

The train yard was a maze of empty, abandoned freight containers scattered about. Well no better place to go then forward

Moving through the maze I clanked closer and closer to the source of the sound. I could hear grunts now, it was likely whoever was making that noise had heard me coming by now, so why were they still making so much noise?

"I'm closing in on the source of the sound ."

"Stay alert, it could be nothing. But you never know."

I rounded a container and there by a falling brick wall against the side of the container I just walked around, was what looked to be a kid my age, he—the hair and figure were definitely that of a guy— had red goggles a black bandanna over his mouth, and a great big Parka over his body.

"Who are you, I'm armed, don't get close!" he warned, a definite waver in his voice.

I felt bad for him, he was clearly having a terrible night before being caught unawares and defenseless. Luckily for him it was me who found him.

I raised my hands hoping to placate him. "Hey, I'm…well I don't have a name yet but I'm a cape. One of the good ones I swear, I'm gonna help ya get out of there if you promise not to attack me."

"Alan, found a kid. He's stuck, think he's a tinker, too."

"Good, see if you can help him out."

"Who are you talking to?" The kid asked, looking around the other paths in the maze of containers and scrap.

"Just talking to my…my tactical support at HQ" I said, and it was the truth slightly stretched to sound more professional.

He stared at me for a moment, thinking what, I wasn't sure. But eventually he nodded slightly and I approached cautiously before I grabbed the edges of the wall and pulled, the enhanced strength provided by my suit easily enough to pull the five-foot high wall upright so he could scramble free. The kid winced as he stood up straight, clearly feeling the after effects of being pinned under so much weight.

"Thanks," he muttered, trying to brush himself off.

"No problem. What happened?" I asked, scanning the area for anything that might have led to the strangers predicament.

He glanced around nervously. "I'm a new cape, a tinker…I've been coming by here often enough the past couple weeks. Looking for scraps and what not. I guess someone took notice because when I walked through the front entrance earlier I was jumped by about 4 guys and this crazy psycho girl who shot me halfway across the trainyard with this—."

"Psycho, WHO YA CALLING PSYCHO!" A voice screeched from above. I barely had time to react before a girl, looking to be in her late teens to early 20s landed in front of us, operating what looked to be a…a souped up pogo stick?

"Homebase," I said not wanting to say Alan's name with the nearby company. "We've got company. Psycho girl on a pogo stick."

And she really did look like a crazy person, Platinum Blonde hair in a long ponytail with hair frayed and flying all over. She wore some pretty skimpy clothes too, Short and I mean Shooooort jean shorts and a grey tank top. She wasn't dressed conservatively to put it one way.

"A pogo stick?" Alan sounded incredulous as he asked.

"I mean it's big for a pogo stick about the size of a motorcycle flipped horizontally, and it's got all sorts of weird shit coming off of it."

"Taylor you need to leave now, by the sounds of it I think you're looking at Squealer, resident tinker for the Merchants."

"Umm—sorry to interrupt, but what's the plan?" The kid asked, he looked dead pale from what little skin on his face and hands I could see. He also looked hurt, he was evidently trying to put a brave face on, but the way he kept one knee bent had me suspecting that if I chose to run, he wouldn't be able to follow. Even disregarding the speed enhancements my suit gave me.

"Taylor. Now. Leave." Alan sounded downright panicked now.

"Yea what's the plan? I have some ideas I'd just love to add!" Squealer squeaked out, her voice making me think of how a mischievous pixie, or a talking chipmunk.

"Sorry, this might be uncomfortable." I said to the kid.

"Wha—" He broke off when I lunged at him, scooped him up and over my shoulder and began running as fast as I could back the way I came from.

Squealers' voices ringing out behind me. "Hey! Come back here, I wanna talk with you guys too."

I don't think I even made it three steps before I saw her coming down in front of me, this time though I watched as a red triangle popped up overhead as the pogo stick connected with the ground and sank down towards the ground releasing a wave of force as it landed.

It hit me like a train, blasting me off my feet sending both the kid and me sprawling to the ground.

"Taylor, status report!"

"Got knocked down, but we're okay," I said as I pushed myself up. I glanced at the kid who was groaning and clutching his side. "You okay?"

"Yea, just peachy," he muttered, wincing as he tried to stand up.

Squealer cackled as she bounced in place where she had landed, a manicacle glint in her eyes. "Oh, did you really think you were getting away that easy? Stay awhile, let's have some fun!"

I gritted my teeth, assessing my options. Running was evidently out of the question, she could clearly jump around far faster than I could run, and I wasn't about to bet on my ability to jump compared to hers. I mean she had an actual tinker tech pogo stick meant for bouncing.

That left dealing with the threat, and fast.

"Stay Down," I whispered before I activated my suits shoulder mounted rifles, the barrels quickly locking onto the sole threat in the vicinity as I lifted my gauntlets and let the miniguns whir to life as I unleashed a hailstorm of rubber bullets at her, aiming for her center of mass.

Squealer yelped and crouched down behind the handlebar of the pogo stick, the bullets pinging harmlessly off its frame. "That wasn't nice! I just wanted to chat to some strapping young youth role models!" She taunted.

"You see, I was thinking its about times me and Skiddy went to the next level in our relationship and made ourselves a family." Squealers ramble sounded almost authentic which was disturbing on its own. "And I thought to myself 'well jee I heard a nice tinker boy was spotted poking around the trainyard scavenging, who better to adopt then such a poor needful kid!'"

"Can you walk?" I asked the boy while keeping my focus on Squealer.

"Barely," he admitted, his face pale with pain.

"I have a plan, we're going to let her jump at us and you need to stay face down flat on the ground when she does."

"Wha—you're asking me to let her kill me, are you crazy?"

"So imagine how blessed I feel to find not one tinker, but two! A girl and boy, what more could a prospective mother want." Squealer sounded downright maniacal now. "Yaknow, G-dog wasn't there for me when I got married to Skids, but he sure is here for me now!"

"No time to explain," I said as Squealer revved her pogo stick, lowered down and shot up at an angled arc towards us. "You need to trust me."

With that I pulled my attention away from him and I watched as Squealer came down, down, down and then when she was just a foot from the ground I jumped as high as I could.

My estimates about being able to jump double the 10 foot fence were far off, I must've only gone up maybe 15 feet, but it was still more than enough to avoid the ring of force that shot out from the Pogo stick. Leaving me in the air, falling down towards a gaping Squealer.

As I was coming down I pulled an arm back and shot it forward just as I was landing in front of Squealer who tried to hide behind her Pogos frame again, this time though the full force of my suits arms were on display, and the Pogo cracked in half sending Squealer flying back into a pile of scrap.

I landed with a heavy thbud, the shock absorbers in my suit taking the brunt of the impact but even then I still felt rattled. Squealer was sprawled out in a pile of trash, groaning but looking more shocked than hurt.

Are you okay? I asked, extending my hand out to the kid who was still lying flat on the ground, eyes wide.

He took my hand and pulled himself to his feet, wincing as he put weight on his injured leg. "Yea, I think so. How'd you know I'd be fine if I stayed lying down?"

I smiled inside my helmet. "I studied a lot last year, picked up some advanced stuff when I read ahead. By laying down your body gets hit by less of the force as there's less surface area making contact with the force."

"Huh, neat"

"Taylor, are you hurt?" Alan's voice crackled through.

"I'm fine," I replied, glancing at the squealer to make sure she wasn't getting up for round two. "Squealer's down but still conscious."

"Good job, I notified the PRT and their already on the way. They'll want a report, so you should stay put."

I nodded. "Got it, we'll stay here until the PRT arrive."

The kid looked around nervously. "PRT? We aren't in trouble are we?"

I shook my head, "No, we're fine. But they will want a report, we'll just tell them the truth and all will be fine."

He nodded and we fell into a silence as we waited, Squealer was now sitting up hunched in on herself, but she seemed content to stay where she was, muttering to herself about "family" and "tinker kids." Alan kept in contact, asking if everything I built performed well, which I was proud to say it had done the job well.

When the PRT finally showed up, their vehicles' lights flashing red and blue in the darkness, I felt a sense of relief. Soon we were surrounded by PRT soldiers as four moved to gather up a still muttering Squealer.

A revving sound had both the kid and myself turning to see a familiar figure driving in on their motorcycle. His navy blue tinker suit, partially hidden face revealing only a neatly trimmed beard, easily revealed him as Armsmaster. Symbol of brocktonite pride to many.

He approached us, his eyes scanning the scene before focusing on me. "Good evening," he said, voice giving nothing away of his feelings. "I need a report on what happened here."

I straightened up, trying to look composed and professional. "I was on patrol when I heard noises coming from the trainyard, upon investigation I discovered my injured friend here. I helped him out from under some debris when Squealer arrived on a tinker tech vehicle capable of unleashing blasts of force propulsing anything caught by it away.

"She jumped me earlier tonight when I was scavenging for parts, I was lucky she came to save me. She faced Squealer head on and kicked her butt."

Armsmaster listened to us intently, his expression unreadable behind his visor. "Impressive work," he stated, nodding appreciatively at my suit.

"Thank you," I replied, feeling a blush come on. Was now a bad time to mention I had once worn Armsmaster undies.

Armsmaster looked over both of us together, before settling back on me. "You have potential, have you considered joining the wards? We could use capable tinkers like the two of you."

"I mean…maybe, I don't have much in the way of tech cause everything good is so resource intensive—" the boy began before Armsmaster cut him off, still looking at me.

"Ward tinkers get access to funds specifically for tinkering, we also have grants that are given out for reproducible tech and various other achievements."

I snorted, not at all liking how little he seemed to care for my new friend who was now looking put out. "Please, the Wards just restrict our freedom. We'd have to go through review to get any of our creations cleared for use."

Armsmaster's lips drew thin. "The Wards offer resources and support that you wouldn't find elsewhere. We have state of the art facilities, training and protection. A structured environment designed to help heroes grow is not an infringement on freedom but a road to providing it."

I shook my head, "That's great, except I won't be able to achieve much of anything in the Wards. I'd be kept from doing any real good for the city, and with restrictions on what I can build. I'd rather just take resources from the gangs, they have stockpiles of resources that I could…repurpose."

Armsmaster studied me for a moment, then sighed. "It's inadvisable to take the path you're suggesting. Survival rates for independents are not good, survival rates for independent tinkers are even worse. Without the support of the PRT, you'd be on your own against any heat the gangs bring down on you."

"I understand the risks," I said firmly. "But I've had enough settling for less to last me a life time. I'll start making a difference now."

He nodded slowly. "Very well. But the offer still stands." He turned to look down beside me. "As for you?"

"Thanks—thanks for the offer, but if I can't build everything I want to in the Wards, maybe taking from the gangs is the right idea."

"Very well. One last question then, what are your cape names for the report?"

I looked at my friend, willing him to go first while I madly tried to think of one. It seemed he was in the same spot as me though as we were both silent for an awkward number of seconds until thankfully he spoke up, sounding rather smug.

"You can call me Kid, Kid Win." the self proclaimed Kid Win said with a proud smile on his face.

Armsmaster and I both stared at him for several moments.

"What? What's wrong with that?!"

Let me know what you think of the chapter, and what you think Taylors cape name will be. (Hint, it's related to her tinker specialty, so I guess what do you think her specialty is as well?)