blööh1 Chapter 46: one way, a 9 to 5 fanfic

One-Way Road [Toaru Kagaku no Accelerator / CYOA SI]

By: Cosmic Dream

I've been on a bit of a Toaru trip lately, thanks to A Certain Mental Isekai by Eotyrannus…

Status: ongoing

Published: 2023-05-31

Updated: 2024-01-19

Words: 122274

Chapters: 29

Original source: https/forum./threads/22570

Exported with the assistance of

One-Way Road [Toaru Kagaku no Accelerator / CYOA SI]

Introduction

One-Way Road 1 - Mechanicus I

One-Way Road 2

One-Way Road 3

One-Way Road 4

One-Way Road 5 - Level 6 Shift

One-Way Road 6

One-Way Road 7

One-Way Road 8 - Time Skip I

One-Way Road 9 - First Meeting (repost)

One-Way Road 10.1

One-Way Road 10.2

One-Way Road 11 - Sisters

One-Way Road 11.R

One-Way Road 12 - Level Upper

One-Way Road 13

One-Way Road 13.S

One-Way Road 14 - Mechanicus II

One-Way Road 15

One-Way Road 16

One-Way Road 17

One-Way Road 18 - Aftermath

Clairvoyant Trolling (omake, canon)

One-Way Road 19

One-Way Road 20

One-Way Road 21

One-Way Road 21.S

A Certain Studious Student's Life in Nagatenjouki Academy (reader omake, canon)

Such Misfortune? (canon omake)

One-Way Road 22 - Poltergeist

One-Way Road 1 - Mechanicus I

I've been on a bit of a Toaru trip lately, thanks to A Certain Mental Isekai by Eotyrannus, which I heartily recommend.

One-Way Road

Blood and oil, red and black, my hands were covered with it. As were the walls and the ceiling. And the incessant shrieking of a siren was driving nails of pain through the pounding mess of headaches that was my brain. I was standing at ground zero, inside the literal crater, of an explosion like I'd never seen.

Piles of charred refuse lay on the ground here and there, half shredded meat half mangled electronics. A metal handcart had lodged itself halfway through the white tiled wall, the surgical instruments scattered on the floor. Two bushels of spidery robot arms tipped with ominous saws and scalpels, were crushed into the ceiling apertures they came from as if someone had stepped on them.

I stared at my blood-covered hands with a zombie-like groan. Stuck between the urge to use them to try and alleviate that maddening headache and the revulsion and bringing that stuff any closer to myself. Where was I? Who was I? What the fuck was going on? And how could I freaking murder that infernal siren?

At least the last question had an easy answer. An instinctive twitch of my mind, as trivial as a wink, and the volume was cut way down in an instant. The most annoying frequency ranges were muted entirely for good measure.

That's right. I was the Accelerator, first ranked Level 5 esper in Academy City. The greatest success of the Ability Development Program, key strategic asset, potential army killer. The closest anyone had ever come to achieving SYSTEM, that fabled singularity of godlike power.

And it appeared that despite everything, some people still had not learned not to fuck with me.

In a huff I flexed my vector control field, adding new cracks to the floor. My presets were, for some reason, completely out of whack. Thankfully that took only a couple of seconds to sort that out. I'd gotten a lot of practice with that back when I had been too weak to keep up my field while asleep.

All the… stuff… that I didn't want on me fairly vaporized under the repelling force applied to it. My clothes might have been beyond saving, but at least they were dry now. The pounding headache, the chemical fog in my mind, the leaden weakness of my limbs, that was harder to deal with.

Vector field analysis. Target: Self. Foreign compounds and metabolites identified. Cross reference. Include newly gained knowledge base "medical expertise, dated 2023 A.D.". Process. ~~Tap into the madness place, just a little~~ .Shift specific diffusion vectors, flush them from synapses and interstitial compartment, sequester them to the bladder. Done.

I wasn't sure what exactly they had gotten me with, but it had to be some sort of anesthetic or reversible nerve toxin. Either way, I felt better now. Still nauseous and suffering from a nasty headache, but at least I was thinking a little clearer.

This was definitely not the time to wrestle with existential questions like "how the hell did I find myself in a fictional universe". Or "who am I really, mid-thirties medical professional or teenage person of mass destruction".

The first priority was to get out of here. The second priority was to make sure this doesn't happen again. Luckily, there was a simple solution to both: Violence.

The heavy steel doors of the operating room crumbled outwards with but a touch of my finger, then ripped off their hinges and blasted into the wall opposite with a resounding crash. I could hear voices shouting in alarm, nearly unintelligible under electronic distortion.

"Subject is on the loose." "The meat resists." "The Great Work must go on."

The clicking sounds of guns being cocked echoed alongside a high-pitched whine.

But guns had stopped being something to be afraid of years ago. I stepped out into the corridor in an uncaring slouch.

An automatic gun turret was hanging from the ceiling to the right. A squad of faceless humanoid robots were standing and kneeling to the left, guns already blazing away. Behind them stood a man in a red robe, half his face replaced with a metal skull and with a sort of halo made of antennas bolted to the crown of his head. That was freaky even by Academy City standards.

My vector control field registered more than a thousand bullet impacts in the first couple of seconds. That was some serious military hardware. All futile, of course. With the field set to reflect, their own lead storm turned the robots into so much swiss cheese.

The robed weirdo behind them was fine, however. Some sort of repelling field. That was actually interesting. I didn't think even Academy City had technology-based energy shields already.

Another continuous rain of electromagnetic radiation had been harmlessly reflecting off my field from behind. The ceiling turret appeared to be a microwave agonizer of some sort. Ridiculous. That sort of thing had worked on me when I was nine, but not for years at this point. Still, there were bad memories there.

I waved my hand as if swatting away a fly, twisting minor air turbulences into violent pressure waves. A series of sonic booms rattled the corridor and with a shower of sparks the agonizer choked off.

Even so, the robed cyborg remained standing and raised his ludicrously oversized gun.

"Purge the infidel!"

The continuously rising electric hum reached a peak and a flurry of incandescent blue bolts screeched down the corridor.

Naturally I expected my reflection field to do its 'return to sender' thing, but instead the world around me disappeared in an inferno of blue fire for about ten seconds. That was interesting. Some sort of electromagnetically stabilized plasma charge that reacted explosively with my field.

When the conflagration died down, all around me the metal of walls and ceiling was glowing red. Molten metal dripped down in several places.

I myself, of course, was completely untouched. Thermal energy is only a problem if it's maintained long enough that I can't hold my breath.

"My turn."

My grin must have been a thing of horror, because the cyborg feverishly yanked on a lever to eject something from his giant gun and scrambled to insert a new magazine or whatever.

Too slow. The floor under my feet bursts as I manipulate my movement vectors into an impossible jump. His shield bursts like a soap bubble.

With a horrid crunch my right hand clamped down on the arm carrying the weight of the plasma gun. My left arm goes through the cyborg's chest without appreciable resistance. One stomp of my feet later the last garbled electronic screeching was cut off. My vector field was set to 'irresistible force'.

With all my preset calculations in place, this time neither blood nor oil could stain my hands.

Discarding the robot hand holding on to it, I picked up the plasma gun. A curious design. ~~I would just love to take it apart. I must know what makes it tick.~~

But what catches my attention most of all is the ominous symbol on the casing: Half cog, half skull, inside an eight-pointed star. What. This should not be here.

Last edited: May 31, 2023

One-Way Road - Accelerator SI vs. the Toaru-verse Black Phoenix - A Harry Potter OC SI via Waifu Catalogue

The Pendragon Contingency - Warhammer 40K SI as DAoT!Arthur Pendragon Cosmic's dreams of distant worlds - Snippet archive

One-Way Road 2

More robots arrived while I was looking around for some tools around the more intact operating theaters along the corridor. These ones carried shotguns with various munitions. Slugs, shot, explosives, incendiary. Even one with rock salt and rusty nails.

All were useless against me of course. One stomp on the ground while I manipulated the vectors of force and tension and the floor under them exploded upward, scattering them like bowling pins. Then I broke them with casual kicks, steel and plastic bursting under the lightest touch.

Puddles of oil and hydraulic fluid stained the floor but not my sneakers. I had locked down my reflection field's whitelist as tightly as possible. Only oxygen and nitrogen, 21/79 mixture, are allowed in. Total exclusion for all other elements and compounds. It was better if I couldn't smell anything right then, anyway.

Some pinkish fluid dripped from one of the android chest pieces and I frowned. What the hell was that about?

Taking apart the armored compartment like a badly wrapped present I find a few organic parts inside a cracked life support pod. Some blobby bits resembling no organs I was familiar with, probably bioengineered tissues. And maybe one fourth of a human cerebrum, pierced through with hundreds of electrodes and sensor pads.

Has these whackos seriously chopped up people to build their androids? Or servitors, given the iconography? It could have been cloned tissue, I supposed. But I was sadly all too familiar with the depths this city's so-called scientists could sink for me to really believe that.

After a moment's hesitation I cracked open the other servitors and eventually found an undamaged brain pod. I put it in a laundry sack meant for OP scrubs together with my captured plasma rifle.

At this point it was unclear whether this was a sanctioned operation - and doesn't that say everything you need to know about the kind of place Academy City was - but if not, then I'd need evidence. ~~And I couldn't wait to take these things apart.~~

Another light push, another locked and barred steel door demolished. I expected more killer robots, but the room is empty except for what looks like a bunch of charging stations. Did those cyborgs just plug themselves into the same sockets as the servitors?

More broken doors, more empty corridors. No enemies. Though I did notice a sharp increase in uniform organic compounds in the air. Nuh-uh. Fool me once… but I survived and they wouldn't get me with gas or aerosol a second time.

"Anomalous Specimen Containment," that sounded promising. Especially on what looked like a bona fide vault door. Did they keep more espers like myself locked up in there? It could not be borne.

Vector field analysis. Target: Vault door. Field propagation… complete. Analyzing mechanisms. Simulating lock functions. Solving for correct opening sequence. Applying solution… abort, deviation detected!

There was a grinding noise followed by a reverberating crunch from inside the door. That fucking headache had peaked at just the wrong time. Whatever those fuckers had dosed me with, just flushing it out of my nervous system hadn't been enough to fully neutralize it.

Oh well. Brute force it was, then. Not as elegant, but with the pounding behind my eyes I was fresh out of fucks to give once again.

I took a couple of steps back, set my field to 'irresistible force' again, then walked straight into the wall next to the vault door. Plaster and bricks exploded outward, then a terrible squealing of tortured steel. Not armoring the walls just as well as the door was an amateur mistake.

The room I found myself in wasn't particularly large and contained nothing but two doors, one marked 'storage', the other 'containment'. Naturally I went for containment first. One broken door, another broken door, then I got a blast of napalm straight to the face.

A swift mental flick and most of the stuff went right back the way it came from instead of splattering off to all sides. But there was something wrong. Some part of it resisted my vector control and kept clinging to me. Only a fraction of the whole, but some of the heat gets through my field and even resisted my homeostasis protocol.

Wreathed in flames I couldn't see and within seconds it got to be uncomfortably hot inside my field. I dropped the bag with my loot evidence behind me, then switched my focus and calculation speed into higher gear despite the worsening headache.

There. I could feel it. Some anomalous energy was moving in defiance of the laws of physics. Fluid/not-fluid, not quite material, with some fractal inner structure that defied analysis by my vector field. A little like IPD interference and just like an esper ability there was a will behind it. I might have suspected Dark Matter to be behind it, but it was honestly too weak an effect to be his.

A shadow only half seen through the obscuring flames prompted me to dodge to one side while punching out with full force multiplication. Not fast enough, however. A huge canine jaw clamped down on my left arm with teeth that ripped and tore at my reflection field and brought me down to the ground.

Overclock mode, maximum priority. Adjust vector field to incoming attack. Measured vectors are nonsensical. Hypothesis: Dimensionality of physics simulation insufficient. Expand definition of possible vector spaces. Extrapolate from measurements to hypothesize full vector descriptions. 14344 possible solutions found.

There was a sound like nails on a chalkboard, a scream that stabbed into my mind like a knife. Teeth ripped through my skin, but the pain paled before the realization that once again I was vulnerable. Once again I would be tortured over and over until I finally managed to protect myself. Once again… no. With a mental wrench I tore myself out of the spiral.

Adjust vector field to incoming attack. 0 / 14344 countermeasures successful. Hypothesis: Real number space insufficient. Suppose imaginary vector spaces. Caution: Projected calculation time exceeds time to permanent damage.

With the processing capacity granted by my ability enhanced mind I could brute force just about anything that could fit into my reality simulation. But I had no theoretical basis for whatever this thing was. If not Dark Matter, then it had to be magic. But knowing that by itself didn't help me much, not when I was about to lose my arm.

Don't think. Feel. See not with your mind's eye, but with your soul. Don't calculate. Know.

It came to me then in a flash of intuition, an imaginary vector space definition that felt right, that felt like it matched the emotion and thought behind those ripping teeth more than their physical reality. Completely illogical though it seemed, I plugged it into my reflection field nonetheless and hoped.

Crunch. Teeth and jaw bones shattered under the force that they exert, turned back upon themselves. A knife-hand strike at the thing looming over me went through ribs and organs like an axe through rotten wood. A mental flex and flames and creature both were hurled away from me.

Breathing heavily I picked myself up. My left sleeve was in tatters, stained with my own blood. It had been months since something managed to force me to adjust my defenses, and now twice in one day. I hated it. I hated feeling so vulnerable. If you're vulnerable then you're a target. If you're vulnerable, then people will gleefully jump on you and make it worse.

I tore off the sleeve to examine the wounds. Canine teeth marks, none deeper than a couple of millimeters. Adjusting the flow of my blood to carry away any foreign particulates and energies cost me a few additional milliliters, then I stilled the flow until hemostasis.

On the other side of the room lined with fire retardant materials lay a huge black dog-like creature. With scales instead of fur and spikes along its spine I was pretty sure that nothing like that naturally existed, at least according to Academy City science. Was it some sort of magical hellhound then, like my other memories suggested?

It didn't really matter. My main priority had been to make sure that there were no other human specimens incarcerated here. Mission accomplished, and all it had cost me was some nasty scratches. Good enough.

After returning to the antechamber I ripped the other door from its hinges, ready for an attack.

There was just a boring near-empty room filled with metal shelves. Even so I was careful when entering. Despite all the shelf space, there were just three items on the shelves. A leather and canvas haversack, a metal disc maybe thirty centimeters in diameter, and a ring with a clear stone.

All of them to my newly discovered mode of perception had a presence beyond the obvious. Energies and properties beyond explanation in my current model of reality. ~~How utterly fascinating.~~

Some careful experimentation of the "poke it with a stick" variety revealed that touching them wouldn't have harmful effects by themselves. Neither the disc nor the ring reacted to my careful prodding in any way. The haversack, when I attempted to propagate my vector field analysis and found space knotted into a pretzel, induced a sense of vertigo so extreme I had to hold on to the metal shelves.

It was larger on the inside than on the outside. Some espers were capable of such distortions of space time, but none of them are capable of maintaining it outside their direct presence. ~~I had to have it.~~

With a shrug I packed the disc and the ring along with my other treasure evidence into the haversack and put the strap over my shoulder.

Whoever these people were, they were clearly meddling with things that the board of directors would not approve. There was some sort of treaty between Academy City and the magical superpowers of the world, wasn't there? I dimly recall something like that from my other memories.

Time to blow this popsicle stand.

By now the upper levels of this underground complex should have been either evacuated (if they knew what was good for them). Or they'd have roused and concentrated all their forces and I'd get to engage in some much needed catharsis.

Either way, there was only one way this could end for them.

Last edited: May 31, 2023

One-Way Road - Accelerator SI vs. the Toaru-verse Black Phoenix - A Harry Potter OC SI via Waifu Catalogue

The Pendragon Contingency - Warhammer 40K SI as DAoT!Arthur Pendragon Cosmic's dreams of distant worlds - Snippet archive

One-Way Road 3

There were elevators of course, but I hadn't been born yesterday. Well, technically the current me was born around ten minutes ago, but still. It was entirely too obvious a chokepoint.

So I just picked up one of the more solid steel doors that had been in my way… well, I tried anyway. Damn, those arms of mine were scrawny. Past Accelerator hadn't seen the point in physical training when his ability was so much stronger.

That was something I'd need to change. I was all too aware that there were challenges ahead of me that I would need to scrape every possible advantage to overcome. Plus, you know, mens sana in corpore sano.

Somewhat annoyed I kicked it up against the ceiling instead, the floor cracking under my other foot due to the redirection of force involved. Plaster rained down from where it stuck for a second, then came down again. My stretched out hand intercepted it and the whole complex shook as I blasted it upwards and straight through the ceiling with the force of a major breaching charge.

Subtlety? Fuck Subtlety.

Jumping three and a half meters up from a standing position was a simple feat with my powers. Plug in the numbers, adjust for the weight of my new haversack, execute. A little wave of my hand and the thick clouds of pulverized concrete were banished by sudden gale force winds.

The room I found myself in probably was some manner of conference room, but now it looked as if a bomb had exploded in here. Table and chairs scattered in pieces, nothing left of the frosted glass walls. No enemies either. Just fire suppression nozzles everywhere, blasting cold nitrogen gas from the ceilings.

After just a few seconds I could already feel my breath going faster but still lacking the oxygen I needed.

That was a smart move on their part. Suffocation was one of the few things that I had still not found a perfect answer for with my power. I could, if I let my vector control propagate through the air as far as possible, manipulate diffusion vectors to concentrate oxygen in my vicinity. But if there was none at all, then I was out of luck.

That is, unless I brought my own. And the medical labs downstairs had been well enough equipped. Reaching into my haversack I turned up the dial of the mobile oxygen flask and applied the nasal cannula at the end of the clear plastic tube.

It probably wasn't the best look on me, but then I was already missing a sleeve and the rest of my clothes were stained with a godawful mixture of blood and worse. I wasn't here to win any beauty contests, I was here to go through everything in path on the way to freedom. So the 'escaped lab experiment' look was, on reflection, quite appropriate.

A clicking and crackling announced the presence of concealed intercom speakers, then a voice rung out over the hissing of the suppression system:

"Cease. Your. Hostility. We want to save you, not harm you."

It was a deep voice, smooth and controlled unlike the electronic distortion of the cultist I'd met below. Almost but not quite natural and thrumming with curious harmonics. Most likely they were running it through an AI voice filter and modding setup.

"Yeah right," I scoffed. "That's why you had me on an operating table."

I couldn't see any cameras but I still lifted one hand, middle finger extended, in the direction of the loudest speaker.

On my way to the door I picked up a few chunks of broken concrete from the floor.

"The mind of God cannot inhabit weak flesh," the voice boomed over the intercom.

"To become part of SYSTEMthe Omnissiah we must leave behind the frailties of meat."

The door opened the moment I approached it, the key card reader flicking from red to green. I narrowed my eyes. They definitely had cameras on me then.

Walking down the corridor I kept an eye out for hidden sensors. Pressure plates under the floor tiles. Cameras in the lights. Probably microphones too, somewhere.

"And you have never heard of informed consent? Did it never occur to you to just ask?" My tone was as dry as it gets.

There was a pause and I pressed on. "If you aren't just talking out of your ass, you must have data. Studies. Simulations."

I didn't hold much hope that they'd take my implied 'we don't need to be at odds' at face value, but now I was curious. Knowing the flavor of their insanity could be useful if some of them got away and I had to hunt them down.

"If you had shown me proof of your claims, explained your ideas properly… self-improvement is a noble goal. Something I can get behind."

Another door clicked open at my approach. I could hear the hum of servo motors, the electrical whine of high-powered machinery and the clicking of robotic feet behind it. Finally.

Stepping through the doorway I found myself in a large, well-illuminated hall, half laboratory half machine workshop. There even were an inflatable clean room setup and an industrial scale matter printer at the far end.

But directly ahead of me the work benches had been set aside and a half circle of more than a dozen servitors were waiting for me. In their hands I could see several more plasma guns and a few other weapons of unfamiliar make and function, in addition to the conventional military hardware. But they all lowered their implements at a gesture from the figure standing behind them.

At least two and a half meters tall and massively built under their red robes, they had to be some kind of giant. Although, given that the other cultist had been more cybernetics then flesh, maybe this one was all metal, too. Four flexible robotic arms extended from their back, carrying various instruments. A mask of black metal, studded with lenses and other sensors, gave them a sort of insectile appearance and concealed any facial expressions. If they even had a face still.

More interesting still, I could feel a powerful IPD field swirling around the figure. Level 4 at least, and with a certain quality of solidity, or perhaps maturity, that I had rarely felt before.

That was curious. An adult esper with a more than insignificant expression? I had been under the impression that my generation was the first in which espers could reliably be brought to Level 4 and the first to produce functional Level 5s.

"Good."

Face to face, so to speak, their voice was even more impressive. Subtle harmonies extending deeper than any human vocal cords could reach, filling the room with a reverberating presence that I couldn't help but envy a little.

"Our goal is most noble, indeed. And our path is backed by immaculate data and mathematical proof."

With a slight gesture of one robotic arm a large screen rips from the wall and comes to hover beside him. Despite the dangling power cord it proceeds to rapidly flip through diagrams and dense text studded with mathematical notation.

Curious indeed. That wasn't telekinesis, but rather something like gravity manipulation? Space manipulation perhaps? But it didn't match any profile I was aware of, and I had memorized every Level 4 in the Bank. Know your enemy, after all.

And the way the screen was working without a power cord, that had to be a second esper supporting him from a distance. Electromaster? Technopath? I didn't know.

"The human mind holds limitless potential," he begins to declaim, "but our bodies of flesh are weak and doomed to fail."

"Mere meat," the word is tinged with visceral disgust, "cannot withstand or contain a power that approaches the divine."

The flickering images move too quickly to read properly, but converted into mathematical notation I can keep them in my calculation buffer. No matter how crazy this guy sounds, there may still be something to whatever freakshow experiment they are working on. ~~Take their pitiful efforts and show them how it is done.~~

"To reach SYSTEMthe Omnissiah we must become more than human. We must excise the frailties that hold us back and aspire to the purity of the blessed machine."

That actually made sense to some degree. Perhaps… no. Stop. I wrenched myself out of the light trance state I'd fallen into and noticed my heart beating in a rhythm matching the cadence of his words. What the hell was that?

Vector field analysis. Reflection mode active. Whitelist set to defcon 2. All incoming vectors below cut-off level. All incoming vectors below alarm level. No attack detected. Hypothesis: Interference by way of informational content.

Begin deep package analysis. Institute hypervisor layer to filter cognitohazards. Processing. Complete. Analysis reveals patterns in vocal subharmonics and visual light output of viewing screen. Frequencies match resonance frequencies of human tissues and CNS activity patterns.

No way. That fucker was trying to hypnotize me! Actually working high-tech hypnosis, by way of biofeedback-guided frequency matching and brain wave interference, no less. And since the energies involved never exceeded that of a loud voice and a high lumen screen, my reflection field hadn't defended against it.

Vector field adjustment. Filter light and sound frequencies matching the detected patterns. Institute randomized white noise distortion and micro-delays. Institute additional analysis protocol to detect higher level patterns and raise alarm. Save protocol under 'audiovisual hypnosis countermeasures'. Mental note: Priority research subject, cognitohazard attacks.

Alright, that was better. The cyborg's voice had lost its sense of presence, sounding flat and tinny now. The screen was still flickering beyond the capacity of the human eye to consciously register, but that would be filtered out as well now.

"Join us, Accelerator. Let us help you break through the limits of Level 5. The time of glorious ascendance is near. SYSTEMthe Omnissiah beckons."

Now that I could think clearly again, a sort of larger image began to emerge. ~~Elevate my mind to a higher level to see how it all connected. See the shape of reality and how to break it, make it mine.~~

One image in particular caught my attention: An esper brain connected to a quantum computing substrate with their IPD field encompassing and then resonating with the co-processor like another part of their brain. A way to expand the calculation capacity of an esper, possibly limited only by the available hardware.

But for that resonance to begin, if I had read the diagram correctly, there had to be a second IPD field involved in establishing the connection, not just the brain implant. Another esper, probably a technopath or AIM manipulator, would have to start the reaction. And by virtue of being the catalyst that alloyed brain and machine together, they would retain root access to the emergent gestalt mind. ~~Elegant in a way, but still so limited. I can do better.~~

Fuck that.

Even if I had been inclined to become more metal than flesh - and at least part of me sympathized with the sentiment of transhuman transformation, if not this particular execution - that was unacceptable.

I wasn't ever going to allow someone else to have administrator access to my mind like that. Not even if they weren't going to keep holding that leash on me forever afterwards, which going with this particular method they absolutely would.

I nodded slowly, deliberately matching the rhythms this whacko had tried to instill in me.

Sixteen servitors with various weapons. One cyborg, spacetime manipulation, ability boosted to Level 4 or higher, carrying various weapons and other technology of unknown design and intent. The very ground prepared by the enemy, sure to give them advantages.

Bring it on.

You wanted an answer from me? To this bullshit you're spewing? Well, here it is.

~~I'll show them. I'll show them all.~~

One-Way Road - Accelerator SI vs. the Toaru-verse Black Phoenix - A Harry Potter OC SI via Waifu Catalogue

The Pendragon Contingency - Warhammer 40K SI as DAoT!Arthur Pendragon Cosmic's dreams of distant worlds - Snippet archive

One-Way Road 4

I opened my hand and four chunks of concrete accelerated to just below the Mach barrier. Simultaneously I stomped my foot to shatter the floor underneath my enemies and scattershot them with the resulting shrapnel.

The result was much more explosive than I'd thought it would be, the world around me disappearing into light and auto-muted noise for a few seconds. When my sight cleared again I was standing in the middle of a molten crater. A shaped high-energy charge embedded in the floor?

No matter. My reflection had served me well, even redirecting some of the force to literally blow a couple of servitors away. Three out of four of the unknown high-tech weapons I'd targeted with my little projectiles were out of order as well.

The ones still standing were firing on me, but except for queuing up my test set of experimental countermeasures to coherent plasma bolts I ignored them. They were only hurting themselves after all.

Some kind of instinct, hailing back to the days when every day would painfully reveal a new vulnerability, triggered a burst of adrenaline. Ignoring the red-hot glow I threw myself to the ground in a somewhat awkward martial arts roll, just barely avoiding some sort of distortion in the air.

Trailing a bluish haze it clearly had come from one of the red-robed cyborg's robotic arms. The one that had unfolded into a sort of ax or short and broad sword, glowing with the same bluish light. At a distance, without consciously extending my field, my resolution wasn't particularly good but I'd still noted gravitic vectors going crazy in the path of that manifestation.

To an improbable degree, short of the immediate vicinity of a singularity, actually. It was a form of space manipulation rather than gravity, then. Edging into Level 5 territory, too. Why had I never heard of this guy before?

"A pity," the cyborg droned, voice amplified to such a degree as to be audible even over the din of weapons fire, "for you to choose the path of ruin."

Plasma gun countermeasure #17 was finally successful in not just bursting the coherent plasma charge on impact but actually redirecting it. The servitor disappeared in a bloom of bluish fire, his matte black plastic and metal casing vaporizing instantly.

The next incoming shot from the two remaining plasma gunners I redirected to the one holding the frequency-hopping pulse maser, which had been an annoyance throughout the last couple of seconds. Not so much for its non-existent threat as for the constant distraction caused by the changing attack characteristics.

Two more plasma shots impacted on my field, crawled along its surface like glowing worms, then shot off directly towards the cultist's head.

"Yeah, no. I chose the path of not becoming a hand puppet to some cult leader high on his own supply."

A ring-shaped device of some sort lit up underneath the cybernetic giant's robes and the plasma shots deflected harmlessly to the side.

The man brought down one of his humanoid arms, palm down. All around me cracks spread through the floor weakened by the explosive charge and redirected attacks. The ruined form of the android nearest to me collapsed as if something huge had stepped on it.

"Was that supposed to do something?" I affected a mocking tone.

Gravity hadn't had a hold on me for years now, no matter whether it was natural or artificial. My field's default setting automatically normalized it when I wasn't playing around.

The machine cultist gave no indication that he had even heard me. "You will learn. You will know suffering. And you will come to us, begging for us to save you. It is inevitable."

With the servitors fallen silent and the three still functioning retreating a few steps, I supposed it was time for the main course. My turn.

A stomp, supersonic scattershot projectiles from the ground. A wave of my hand, tornado-force turbulence lashed out towards him, collapsing into a thunderclap fit to shatter stone on impact. Then, kicking off the floor, I shot into the air, pinballing off the ceiling and landing behind him quicker than the eye could follow.

My hand reached out. A single touch would be sufficient… but I had to throw myself aside at the last moment, as the glowing blade came around with inhuman speed. I wasn't quicker than his internal radar or whatever he was using, I supposed.

I crashed straight through a work bench, scattering tools and devices all around, before I arrested my movement in an instant without a care for inertia.

There was a terrible noise and ahead of me a hole thirty centimeters across bored through a walk-in freezer, through the wall behind it and into the earth. The edges were twisted spiral-like and glowing with heat, but not enough for thermic energy transfer to be the main principle of whatever that had been.

That would have hit me if I hadn't stopped where I did. And even coming close to the path of the shot, I can feel with my vector field how space is twisted and puckered around the central axis, only slowly unclenching now. A gun-like implement at the end of the upper left robot arm was venting coolant with a sharp hiss.

If it was just gravity that did the damage, then my field should hold. I was pretty sure spaghettifying wasn't in the cards, so long as my defenses were active. But that instinctive sense of alarm every time I got close to one of his attacks warned me that there had to be something more to it.

I ripped a leg from the nearest workbench and went through the familiar mental contortion that would let me extend my vector field through it as if it was a part of me. As inhumanly quick as that bladed arm of his was, I didn't want to get too close.

My projectile attacks hadn't been successful, barely causing a few rips in the cyborg's robes. Spatial distortion would make for a near-absolute defense to physical attacks. The question was, did he need to see it coming? Could he defend from all sides at once?

Once more I kicked off to propel myself forward with superhuman speed. My form was terrible, probably painful to see for any actual martial artist, but then I could cheat. The bladed robot arm came down in machine-like reflex, the edge glaring a monochromatic blue. But I'd been ready for that. I redirected the movement vector of every atom in my body with a simple mental flick and the tip of my improvised weapon met the blade head on.

Feedback screeched through my mind, not painful in itself but worsening my still aggravated headache. An explosion of light so energetic as to set things on fire a dozen meters away detonated at the point of contact.

I turned my leap into a sort of glide on touching down, coming to a halt in a skater's pirouette brake, facing my opponent. The metal tube of my improvised weapon was shorter by several centimeters, the tip shorn off by something impossible sharp.

Not the physical blade, nor the immense gravitic forces that my vector field had redirected and amplified to the point of vaporizing matter in an energetic manner. No, there had been a sort of discontinuity at the edge of the blade, an absence that my field could not affect. Allowing myself to be hit by that was an absolute no-go.

My opponent hadn't come away unscathed, however. Mere burned tatters remained of his robe and the right side of his head and shoulder were half-melted. The robot arm too, had lost quite a bit of dexterity judging from its awkward movements. Good. Unlike mine, his defenses weren't persistent or instantaneous.

Once again the cyborg gestured with his humanoid hands, this time in a circular motion. All around me, across half of the large room, rubble and fallen objects began to rise into the air just a little bit as gravity was completely zeroed out. Not bad. Knowing that he couldn't affect me directly with gravity he was trying to restrain my movements. Zero G meant that if he could trap me without anything to push off, he might get a clear shot with his spiral gun.

Naturally I didn't play along. Clapping my hands together a shockwave spread in all directions, doing very little to the cultist's metallic armor but shaking the air. In its wake my vector field expanded, every air current touched by the consequences of my ability falling under its influence.

A single shockwave became a storm, crashing against the opposite wall then folding in upon itself. All currents bent into a circular shape, a whirlwind arose carrying all manner of loose objects with it and relentlessly hammering my enemy. Faster and faster, tighter and tighter, the force of the winds reached beyond any natural phenomenon.

It was a surprisingly low effort use of my power, a bit like using your hand to accelerate a spinning wheel every time it slows down. Good thing too, because I had to figure out what exactly my enemy's power did.

Vector field analysis. Data points on record: Gravity amplification. Spiral shot. Discontinuity edge. Currently maintained zero gravity effect. No data for theorized spatial distortion shield.

Kicking off a flying soldering iron I avoided another beam drilling a dozen meter deep hole into a wall. A return shot with a hypersonic tablet fails to get through his deflection shield. No matter.

Hypothesis: Opponent's power distorts space through mechanism distinct from influence of baryonic mass. Dark matter manipulation? Discard. Implausibly large energies required. Application of 11-dimensional principles of movement? Discard. Teleporter countermeasures report no impact.

A series of gravitic pulses in alternating direction and increasing frequency emanated from the two ring-shaped attachments on the two lower robotic arms, then suddenly space seemed to break down in a circular portal. In a blink the cyborg stood outside the raging whirlwind, oversized fingers and lethal blade both reaching towards me.

Overclock. New data point: Portal generation. Discontinuity matches the all-cutting edge effect. Vector field propagation through spatial transition. HypothesSsSsSsSsss S ~~crew that, I'll never get anywhere thinking in a linear fashion like this. Time to dip my thoughts into the sea of pure reason, let the light of inspiration illuminate me.~~Hypothesis: Esper power is brane distortion, directly folding three-dimensional space through the higher manifold.

He'd chosen the moment well. No convenient objects were near me to kick off. But then, air currents could serve just as well. I might not have mastered true flight, but this I could do. Allowing myself to be carried with a downward current I avoided the blade and whipped my weapon straight through his humanoid arm.

Not a drop of blood spilled, only oil and hydraulic fluid. As I had thought, there was barely anything human left to him. Some sort of internal cut-off mechanism prevented the shockwave vectors from propagating to the rest of his body, however. Still, one limb down, seven to go.

Parallelize calculations. Simulate possible mechanisms. Processing. Mechanism outside bounds. Hypothesize possible countermeasures. Processing. 412 solutions found. Testing required. Implement solutions at gradient throughout vector field.

The blade came around again and this time I chose to meet it head on with my reinforced table leg. Time seemed to slow down as I pushed my mental overclocking to the maximum. The blade met the tip of the metal pipe and started to cut through it lengthwise on its way to me.

Explosions of light and exotic particles blasted off in sequence, one for every 2.5 millimeters cut through. A constant hammering of feedback and data flow drilled through my brain.

Solutions 1 through 255 discarded, ineffective. Full analysis of vector field perception data exceeds remaining time to contact. Prioritize solutions requiring more than 63 microseconds to cut through in order of resistance posed. Revisit hypothesis with narrowed down solution space. Processing. ~~Add a little bit of sparky black magic.~~ 43 solutions found. Implement solutions along remaining gradient.

The half-melted black metal mask gave no indication of emotion, but I imagined there was a degree of grim satisfaction at finally having me under his blade. That is until, just 15 centimeters before the discontinuity blade would have hit my hand, his irresistible force met an equally unmovable object.

Vector field analysis. Solution 36 successful. Discontinuity arrested. Extrapolate general theory of manipulation from confirmed experiment data. ~~Make a flying leap of intuition.~~ Simulation complete.

Implementing vector control. Grip edges of ripped brane and re-align. Opposing esper power detected. IPD interference. Overriding. Opposing personal reality strength is insufficient. Discontinuity closed. ~~Mwahahahahahah!~~

With a flick of my wrist the glowing blade and the serpentine robotic arm fairly disintegrated to shrapnel as I redirected all the energy contained in the snapping shut of the discontinuity into kinetic force. Only a stump remained of its head, but the zero gravity field persisted still.

Moving my arm by way of kinetic vector control more than muscle I whipped the weapon in my hand - more of a shiv than a metal pipe now - straight through the distortion shield projector and into the cyborg's torso.

And through. Fractured pieces exploded everywhere. And with a heavy dual thump the two halves of my bisected opponent hit the ground as his esper power collapsed.

"Tell you what," I said contemptuously over the fading noise of the rapidly dying whirlwind. "If I ever get so desperate as to require someone else to do my thinking for me, I'll look you up."

There was a pause broken only by the beating of my heart in my ears and the sound of my heavy breathing.

"That is acceptable."

The voice came from the ceiling, different from the cyborg I had been facing. It was loud enough to set the heaps of rubble to vibrating.

"We can see that you are mired in ignorance and misconception still. But you will learn. After you have seen the true depths of despair… we will be waiting."

There was a rising whine followed by a heavy thump and the upper torso of the bisected cyborg imploded in upon itself with the familiar feeling of spatial distortion.

Immediately afterwards lines of orange fire snake through its limbs with the hissing of thermite charges. The weapons held by the servitors similarly started hissing and spitting sparks, the lights flickered and the few remaining intact screens in the room cut out. No, my loot!

Then the very ground under my feet bucked upwards with tremendous force, jets of blue and green flame stabbing upwards. Sequential charges detonated all along the walls and with a rumbling noise I could feel even through the suppression of my field.

And then the ceiling fell down on me. Well, fuck.

Given that the nasal cannula was still in place, being buried under god knows how many tons of reinforced concrete wasn't a death sentence for me. Not like it would have been for, I don't know, just about everyone else. But it was still fucking annoying.

My reflection field alternating between irresistible force and immovable object modes I started snaking my way roughly upwards through the mess of concrete and steel. Constantly trying not to think about the last time I'd had to do this and the nightmares that occasion still gave me sometimes.

Finally, after what might have been minutes or hours, I couldn't tell, my arm breached into open air and I pulled myself up. I must have looked like some sort of monster, caked all over with concrete dust and breaking from the ground like a zombie from its grave. Choking clouds of dust and smoke still hung in the air, pierced through by a dozen or more laser sights that swiftly closed in on me.

"This is Anti-Skill, acting under counter-terrorism act 31," an angry voice sounded through a megaphone.

"Drop your weapons and put your hands into the air. Any use of esper powers will be considered armed resistance and met with overwhelming force."

I just sighed wearily. "Really? Are you fucking serious?"

Things did not in fact get better after one of them finally recognized me.

Sure, immediate violence was off the table then, rightly considered useless at best and suicidal at worst.

But they still somehow had it in their heads that the facility I'd come from was a legitimate research laboratory full of civilian scientists whom I had murdered and blown up for shits and giggles. Or something like that anyway.

It hadn't helped that after the first two assholes tried their "you're in big trouble now, boy" spiel on me I had set my field to total reflection and taken a nap. I didn't feel like surrendering my loot the evidence I'd gathered in my haversack either.

I didn't think there was much that they could do, even if I had done what they thought I had. Or if I had just walked out and ignored them. But satisfying though it would have been, odds were it would have led to further annoyances down the line.

Eventually cooler heads prevailed. Possibly helped by the fact that the SAR espers they'd brought in couldn't find any trace of the supposed victims. And that ground-penetrating radar turned up lots of broken androids, models that should have been restricted to the Academy City (inofficial) military branch.

They brought in a third guy then, of the non-asshole variety this time, who actually listened to what I told him. And then that old bag Yomikawa Aiho, who fancied herself my guardian or something, barged in, cussed them all out, and just dragged me out of there.

At that point the only thing I wanted was a shower and a bed, but I still got dragged by the hospital first. Then Aiho's apartment for dinner and some counseling bullshit.

I knew that she did all that because she cared, but it was hard to bear when all I wanted was to be alone, get some rest and time to properly think.

Eventually that too was over, though. What a shit storm of a first day in this place. At least tomorrow couldn't be as bad. ~~Not when I had science to do!~~

Last edited: Jun 1, 2023

One-Way Road - Accelerator SI vs. the Toaru-verse Black Phoenix - A Harry Potter OC SI via Waifu Catalogue

The Pendragon Contingency - Warhammer 40K SI as DAoT!Arthur Pendragon Cosmic's dreams of distant worlds - Snippet archive

One-Way Road 5 - Level 6 Shift

The next morning, freshly showered and bandages renewed, I felt much better already. I still wasn't exactly eager to think about existential questions of identity and cosmic significance. But now that I wasn't riding the knife's edge under constant threat of death, it was clear to me that regardless of the supposedly fictional status of this universe in those other memories, the information contained was probably good.

And that meant that there were a number of things that I should probably investigate in addition to those cult whackos.

Potential threats came first, though. Actually looking in the mirror this morning had prompted a moment of breaking into cold sweat. Because I had realized that the thin line of red on my forehead, not even requiring stitches, must have been where they had been this close to opening up my skull with a rotary bone saw.

So, wearing one of the neat hoodies in my wardrobe to conceal my very recognizable hair, I went out and started looking into what kind of suicidal lemming had poisoned me.

But, as it turned out, abducting the 1st ranked Level 5 for unsanctioned experiments was kind of frowned upon by the board of directors. Anti-Skill and a few trusted clairvoyants had basically taken the cantina at the Geomagnetic Anomaly Research Lab apart and proceeded to knock on a whole lot of doors throughout the night.

On the upside, the investigation was the topic of every bit of water cooler talk within two blocks. So by just lounging about with prominently displayed but silent ear plug headphones I learned that the most likely subject was one of the cantina personnel who'd acted a bit strangely the previous day and had disappeared right after his shift. Mind control, shapeshifter, or just common bribery or insanity were all discussed, but nobody knew for sure.

Personally, knowing that the machine cult had workable tech-based hypnosis and brain implants, I guessed he had been a less than fully consenting accomplice. And that his fate likely hadn't been kind. Still, a dead end for now.

I looked up the bearer of the Imagine Breaker and primary protagonist of the media from my other memories next.

And if the investigation into the circumstances of my bad day was a major police action, then regarding the death of one Kamijou Touma I only found a figurative crater. Someone, quite possibly the chairman himself, had dropped the investigation equivalent of a rod from god on everything and everyone involved. And their dog and their relatives into the ninth generation and so on, so to speak.

And whatever they had found, there was no way I'd ever get the true story unless I got my hands on someone with privileged information.

Officially Kamijou Touma had died when he tried to intervene in a mugging gone wrong and got a bullet to the head for his trouble. The identity of the perpetrator, original victim as well as any witnesses were sealed and the entire block where the crime scene had been located, was literally taken apart and transported away. For completely unrelated and long planned reasons, supposedly.

So, another dead end. I took apart the burner phone I'd begun using when the scale of the shit storm had become apparent, dropped it down the next gully sink, and swiftly walked away.

Taking apart the captured tech was much more promising. The Geomagnetic Anomaly Research Lab naturally had labs with isolation procedures, Faraday cages among other things, and getting one to myself was just a matter of not taking no for an answer.

With my vector control field spread through the secondary EM isolation layer of the hood workbench I removed my loot from the pocket dimension of my bag and proceeded to perpetrate Science! on it.

By the time the afternoon rolled around and I resurfaced from my flow state I had all but figured out the servitor pod. Without the base cell cultures I wouldn't have an easy time replicating the organoids. And without the computer to connect to the implants I'd have to build basically half of the hybrid android brain from scratch. But there was still a lot of interesting stuff in there.

What I hadn't found was a smoking gun. Sure, lots of the tech involved was based on advances and publications I could look up, but none of the designs and compositions were close enough to really put suspicion on the authors. Maybe Anti-Skill could find out more with an intact sample that I had stripped the self-destruct out of. But I'd have to go through Aiho and that would make politely blackmailing them for their own results more difficult.

The plasma gun, now that was an interesting piece of tech. Especially since it was far beyond any published advances in the field. Unless one of them was a genius that was frankly wasted on such a group of whackos, they had to have managed to get their hands on some kind of military black project. Probably by way of some more mind control shit.

Now, I personally probably wouldn't get much use out of it given that my own abilities were so much more powerful. But being able to hand out a few of those could turn a bunch of Level 0s into a serious threat to anyone short of a Level 5. ~~And I already had a few ideas how to turn the damage output up much, much higher.~~

A couple of days later none of the available leads had turned up anything. The excavation of the base was still ongoing, but it had already become clear that even those electronic devices that hadn't self-destructed had been wiped with beyond military protocols. The DNA evidence from organic remains and components had found no match in any database, civilian or otherwise, either.

The machine cult had clearly gone to ground with all the grace of some serious tradecraft, not to mention the advantages of mind control, teleportation and a technopath involved, and Anti-Skill wasn't getting anywhere.

I had made some inquiries with the 'dark' side as well, predictably without result so far. But the offer of a favor from the Accelerator himself was something that carried weight. If those people came across something relevant, they more than likely would take the opportunity to make me pay through the nose for it.

And I was carrying the EM band scanner I'd cobbled together from normal (if Academy City grade) consumer electronics and an innocent quantum encryption module that had crossed my path at the wrong time. The cult was practicing proper tradecraft, so they'd have abandoned the frequencies, channels and encryptions they'd been using before. But if they had overlooked so much as a single known associate MAC address on a device within half a kilometer of wherever I went, I'd know.

For now I had bigger fish to fry. Or rather not to fry, as the case may be.

Even just looking back with my new perspective it was clear to me that some of those guys who had sold the Accelerator of the past on the Level 6 Shift project had been shady as fuck. And with my meta-knowledge of the Sisters… there was simply no way I would be taking part in that butchery. I had some standards.

But to make sure I hadn't misremembered anything - and, incidentally, to justify my change of mind to the ever-present watchers - I would need to gather more material intelligence.

Technically I was an experimental subject rather than one of the researchers with the Level 6 Shift project. Something that the Accelerator of the past hadn't cared about. It had been just business as usual to him. But it rubbed me the wrong way something fierce.

A lack of official credentials was an obstacle that had at least one simple solution, though.

"Dr. Okumura."

The overweight man startled almost to the point of jumping up from his chair at the sight of my resting bitch face at full power.

"Move aside, would you kindly? I need to look a few things up." I gestured to the screen he had been working on.

He swallowed. "Erh, pardon me? Can't you…"

One fingertip touched the backrest and both chair and man slid out of the way with conspicuous preternatural smoothness, coming to a stop in the corner of his office.

"I'll be done in a second. You just… wait over there, will you?"

I slipped the visitor stool in place and started tapping on the keyboard to bring up the project's cloud drive. After a moment I paused and threw the biometric access device over to the now rather pale Dr. Okumura.

Seeing his anxious and confused expression I decided to give him a fig leaf to hold on to.

"There's been a mixup with my login. Supervisor Nokleben will fix it as soon as he gets in, no doubt, but I don't have time to waste with such nonsense."

"But, even so, it's against regulations to…"

I intensified my glower and he trailed off into unintelligible mumbles before falling silent and obediently putting his finger on the device.

A nod of acknowledgement and I went back to work, ignoring the man sweating in the corner.

Full org chart and contact information, yoink. Initial proposals for Radio Noise and Level 6 Shift and full (if partially redacted) experimental protocols, yoink. Specifications and documentation of the cloning and flash growth process, yoink. Documentation for the mental formating, OS and software burned in via Testament, yoink.

I'd have to find someone with higher access rights to get the actual source code, though.

Another annoyance was that I couldn't directly copy any files off the terminal at the research facility. It simply was not possible to transfer them to an unauthorized device.

I got around that by infiltrating the display screen with my vector control field and copying the signal configurations to the input cable of my tablet. It was clunky as hell compared to what a competent electromaster could do, basically at the level of making a series of screenshots. But it worked.

And, at least for now, that capacity of mine wasn't known to the higher ups. Any electromaster of Level 3, I knew, was considered a walking security breach and would trigger special protocols in terminals of security rank A or higher.

I hadn't actually done much practice in the field of actual signal analysis and manipulation with my power before and I wasn't really sure why. If even two-bit electromasters could do it, why shouldn' I?

Was it that the Accelerator of the past had been adroitly discouraged from that line of development? Keep the experimental subject ignorant, and all that? Perhaps even subtly conditioned to look down on such things?

It wouldn't have been too hard, given their total control over my environment all the way until Aiho and her team had dismantled the Special Ability Institute.

But I wasn't going to be their well-behaved little lab rat.

From my other memories I knew that I held tremendous potential in that regard. In that timeline a different Accelerator had actually hacked the brain of Last Order. On the fly. Racing against time. Not to destroy, but to save and restore. Without any prior knowledge of the mental architecture and software. ~~In a cave! With a box of scraps!~~

Although, on second thought, he'd taken apart more than ten thousand of the Sisters at that point. Who knew what fucked up shit he had done to them. So he probably hadn't been entirely without prior knowledge.

Anyway, I'd dust off my old comp sci textbooks, look up a few darknet resources and start working on that alongside my other projects. I absolutely didn't want to be reliant on what other people might or might not tell me. Without ways to acquire intelligence beyond 'just threaten the right people' I would be screwed sooner or later.

But carefully, without tipping people off I was looking into such applications of my power. ~~Secret weapons are the best weapons.~~

But anyway, for now it was back to the matter at hand.

The way the Radio Noise network was described in the emotionless clinical language of the proposals and documentation, it actually made some sense. Limited esper powers, but under the control of a distributed artificial intelligence that would analyze every experience and learn from every mistake.

It was supposed to grow through iteration and destructive testing until it would collectively exceed any human mind in breadth just like its collective processing space was on par with a Level 5 even at baseline. And with the patience and inhuman attention to detail of an AI it would push the 'primary experimental subject', me, to improve across every possible metric of power development until I reached the limit of Level 5 in every possible way.

And then, by means redacted from the version of the documents I had, they would push me over the edge.

Fuck. That sounded way too reasonable. ~~It's for Science! Why sweat the details?~~

I had to look at this in greater detail, not just the top level overview. More than likely I was getting blinded by the pretty buzzwords and pop science summaries, just like whatever committee formally approved this shit show.

Unlike the rest of Japan, Academy City had no problem with skipping grades and the Accelerator of the past had tested out of school years ago. And only part of that was due to pressure from above that the Number 1's time couldn't be wasted in compulsory education.

Genetics and the Ability Development Program had gifted me with a mind that could outdo any individual computer even Academy City could build, apart from the singular and irreplaceable Tree Diagram.

And honestly, who knew what kind of black magic Aleister had used in the creation of Tree Diagram. I wouldn't have been surprised if it was Powered by a Forsaken Child or worse. It was that far beyond the rest of the available computational technology.

In any case, it had been a simple matter of spending a week cramming three dozen textbooks into my head, then doing a stupid test, and it was done.

But speedrunning education this way and taking high school graduation as the finishing line, even with Academy City's outrageous standards for STEM subjects, wasn't ideal. For one, it left me without some of the tools and experience I needed to really make the most out of the scientific resources I had access to, officially or unofficially.

Sure, I could cover a lot with the extranormal intuitive leaps and possibly atemporal processing that I suspected lay at the core of what the mad scientists of a different universe's Europa called a 'spark'. But there were dangers that came with overreliance on that particular resource that none of my vector control field defenses could protect me against.

In the long term, I'd probably need to go back into education, in some capacity at least. ~~Knowledge is power, power enough to take over the world!~~

But first I'd do a proper literature review on this shit. Follow every reference down to the bedrock of absolute basics, until I really had the whole picture.

Then I'd go on a fact finding mission to see things with my own eyes. See the Sisters.

I sighed and rose from the uncomfortable stool. Before leaving I paused before the nervous wreck in the corner.

"There will be no need to make a big deal out of this little arrangement, will there, Dr. Okumura?"

I looked down straight into his eyes while looming over him. "No need for either of us."

I didn't necessarily like the reputation my past had saddled me with, but it was useful at times. Few people actually knew how exactly my body count had come to pass and exaggerated rumors had spread far and wide. So an implied death threat was eminently believable.

"I see we understand each other."

More of a transition and setup chapter. Transition to what? As I said, I'm flying by the seat of my pants here. Might have to actually do some research, even if it runs counter to the original plan of "just do whatever".

Last edited: Nov 13, 2023

One-Way Road - Accelerator SI vs. the Toaru-verse Black Phoenix - A Harry Potter OC SI via Waifu Catalogue

The Pendragon Contingency - Warhammer 40K SI as DAoT!Arthur Pendragon Cosmic's dreams of distant worlds - Snippet archive

One-Way Road 6

Academy City had been founded on the principle of providing the best possible education to aspiring scientists and promoting a greater understanding of the world for the benefit of all humanity. Or at least that was the official line, anyway.

The kinds of resources available to those sincerely trying to better themselves, especially when they had already proven themselves trustworthy (or were considered key strategic assets), frankly boggled the mind:

Online libraries carrying every possible kind of textbook and scientific publication, AI-driven tutoring courses, video lectures all the way to the post-graduate level, dedicated VR spaces and simulation time on computers exceeding anything the rest of the world had to offer. And that was without going into all the user-created content produced by a city boasting more than 1.8 million students on nootropics.

It was one hell of a drug to a spark.

Even while trying to keep the side-tracking and episodes of 'I have to try this out, ~~for Science!~~' to a minimum it had taken me several days to do the full review on the stolen intelligence.

The top level documents were masterpieces of dehumanizing language. The Sisters were only ever referenced as 'network nodes', 'Radio Noise terminals', or most often just as 'units'.

But there was nothing in any of the documentation, papers and experimental data that truly contradicted or even hinted at an exception to the established scientific theory of esper powers. More specifically, the fact that the development of a personal reality absolutely required a living individual mind and personality.

If the individual 'nodes' didn't have sufficient self-awareness and consciousness to form a personal reality, then they wouldn't be able to express an esper power at all and wouldn't be able to connect to the network in the first place.

It was something that was simply glossed over, if extremely smoothly, with all the talk of an entirely artificial gestalt intelligence.

And for all I knew, they were right that the Network as a whole would not suffer. Even if something like a self-aware overmind developed - while there was no proof at this point in time, I knew that fully sapient IPD gestalt entities were possible - its form of existence might be even further removed from baseline human experience than the Network's.

They simply discounted the cost to the individual sisters at the bottom of the pyramid.

I shook my head to discard thoughts of unproven esoteric psychic phenomena ~~even if they were utterly fascinating~~. Before I could think of such things I had to write up my findings in a form that would stand up to scrutiny.

The Accelerator of the past would have scoffed at the idea, let alone have had the patience to write up a scientific paper. But I would take whatever measures I could. Most likely the scientists involved in the project already knew, on some level at least.

Still, if I could convince even one of them with a reasonable argument, then that was still one less potential bodybag if things went completely tits up.

Biological Safety Research Laboratory #4. Now there was a name to discourage a deeper interest, bland but with a subtle hint of danger. Being a concrete box behind barbed wire and an empty lot covered by entirely too many cameras only added to that.

This was where the final 'product testing' was conducted before shipping the 'completed units' to the experimental labs.

Vector field manipulation: Transparency mode v.07, start-up test sequence: right arm.

A flicker like a badly calibrated screen ran along my hand and up my arm, then it stabilized and both hand and arm disappeared from sight. Nodding in satisfaction I extended the effect over my whole field. Absolute darkness enveloped me.

It wasn't perfect invisibility. The naked eye would be completely fooled when I redirected light that fell into my vector control field to simply flow around me. But my literal work-around to achieve EM transparency wouldn't conceal me from LIDAR or radar in the upper gigahertz range or higher. Assuming they were configured with proper paranoia in mind, anyway.

Not even Academy City would use that sort of tech when going for a security by obscurity approach, though. There was just too much of a chance that some random tech aficionado or esper with relevant extranormal perception would notice.

The greater problem was that I was completely blind, of course. I could, sort of, extract raw information from the active redirection of visual range lightwaves. But visual processing was a rather complicated matter and even after looking up a bunch of relevant algorithms I had quite a way to go before I would be able to rely on it.

It might actually turn out to be easier to figure out how to plug the data straight into my regular visual cortex instead.

For now I had to accept that my awareness was shit in proportion to how invisible I was.

That's why I had used a laser rangefinder and calculated out the parabolic arc ahead of time. The jump itself was a mere formality this way, every vector forced to conform exactly to my projection.

I hit the edge of the roof and instantly spread out my vector control field to hold me in place instead of my arms. Pressure sensors were everywhere except on the rooftop AC units. So I used reduced gravity hops to move from unit to unit to reach the inner parts of the complex.

It was a bit like playing an ASCII-art platformer game, I supposed. Only without any retries or reloading.

After a minute or two I reached an inner courtyard. The cameras here were mostly inward-facing, so I risked reducing the transparency over my pupils in order to see properly, if a bit dimly.

Two men in white coats were smoking in one corner of the courtyard.

"Their eyes, they creep me out, man," I could hear one of them say to the other.

"But the rest of them isn't too bad. Fully functional, if you know what I mean. And they're nothing if not obedient."

"I bet I could just order one of them to, you know," he made an obscene gesture. His friend laughed nervously.

I on the other hand could feel the urge to kill rising.

"It's not like they'll survive the experiments anyway," he continued. "Nobody would know and nobody would care."

"You're a swine, Takeshi," the other man said in a long-suffering tone.

Oh yes, I'd remember that name.

"Besides, the network would remember. And if anyone ever asked they would answer in that lifeless tone of theirs. With date and time and GPS coordinates. Then you'd better hope Nokleben gets to you first. He'd just shoot you."

"The Old Man on the other hand, if he finds out you tainted even a single variable in his sacred quest for the holy grail…"

He shuddered and 'Takeshi' grimaced as well.

"True. I've heard from Yoshida in nutri-science…"

As the two of them put out their cigarettes and turned towards the door I drifted down from the roof behind them under one tenth of Earth gravity.

As the first of them brought his key card to the reader I reached for similar-colored lanyard dangling from Takeshi's coat pocket. I wasn't exactly a trained pickpocket, but then I didn't need to care for angles, leverage or flexibility. Under my vector control the card slid out smoothly and unnoticed and retracted behind my transparency field.

Then I followed them into the facility, my sight once more restricted. It would take a high-quality camera and AI monitoring of the feeds to detect the two points of preternatural shadow moving at eye level, but this was Academy City. Invisibility wasn't an Outside Context Problem here.

I'd always hated sneaking games. I could never stand the tension and more often than not the first mistake would turn the whole thing into a bloodbath as I released all my frustration.

That wasn't really an option here. The consequences of being caught would, at worst, be a slap on the wrist in terms of punishment. But I'd lose the initiative. Not to mention take a hit to my pride. So I pushed on.

After way too much hassle and a few close calls I was looking through the grille of a ventilation shaft down into an examination room. A young, brown-haired girl in a simple patient gown was sitting on a metal examination couch, idly dangling her legs and looking around the room.

To the side a balding man in a white lab coat was working on something on a computer while humming to himself. At a sharp look and disapproving expression from him the girl stilled immediately, coming to sit quiet as a statue.

So this was one of the Sisters in the flesh. I'd already seen the growth tubes taking up a large part of the complex, but the glass and fluid within had significantly distorted my view from my less than ideal angle.

Apart from being uncommonly well-behaved she looked entirely… normal. Just a young girl that needed to visit the doctor.

Something in my mind unclenched slowly. After spending close to a week deeply immersed in the dehumanizing language of the data I'd stolen, despite my rational conclusions and despite all that I knew from my other memories, a flicker of doubt had set in on an emotional level. But seeing was believing.

Something beeped urgently and the doctor stood up with an annoyed grimace.

"What now? You, stay here, don't move. I'll be back soon."

I waited just a moment after he left the room. The girl on the examination couch idly began humming, clearly trying to imitate the scientist who'd been working on her.

After unlatching the grill, I attached a little device of my own creation to the camera next to the outlet, then dropped down into the room. I touched down light as a feather under my diminished gravity and allowed my transparency to fade entirely.

The girl clearly noticed my arrival since I was making no effort to hide from her. She stopped humming but continued to look straight ahead. Was it due to being ordered not to move, I wondered?

Circling around the room to enter her field of vision I gave a little wave. "Hello there."

"'Hello,' says Misaka, since she has no orders not to speak."

Her tone is not lifeless exactly but still lacking in inflection and emphasis. Like an AI generated voice. Was that by design, to ease the dehumanization? Or just due to a lack of socialization?

And her eyes… I could see how the scientists would find them creepy. But to me they reminded me most of the eyes some of the other subjects at the Special Ability Institute had possessed. The ones who had not been blessed with the most outrageous esper power on record. Who had reacted to the inhumane treatment by retreating into themselves entirely.

Before the number of test subjects at the Institute had fallen to just one.

"'Who are you,' Misaka inquires, wondering at the strange mode of dress of the interloper."

I tried to smile reassuringly. "They call me Accelerator. I'm a fellow experimental subject in the Level 6 Shift project. It's nice to meet you, Misaka…?"

"'Misaka is designated Misaka 1 because Misaka is the first unit of the production run,' explains Misaka, while reviewing the personnel records."

"'There is no 'Accelerator' listed here, but there is 'experimental subject 1',' continues Misaka with an implied question."

"That's me," I confirmed. "So, Misaka 1, do you know…"

I was interrupted by a strange sound like a growling little kitten. Misaka 1 had tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable but the cause readily apparent enough.

"Are you… hungry? Are they not feeding you enough?"

She nods then shakes her head in quick succession. "'Misaka missed nutritional intake this morning due to the necessary tests,' Misaka says while efficiently answering both questions with one sentence."

"I see." I rummaged in my bag for a bit, more for effect than by necessity, then withdrew a chocolate bar and offered it to her. "Here. You need to keep your strength up."

The girl obediently takes the offered sweet and examines it with an air of confusion.

"How many of you are already out of your tubes and about, anyway," I inquired while she was busy trying to figure out how to open the wrapping.

"'Seven units at this site prepared for the initial phase. Misaka 1 was the first,' Misaka informs absentmindedly."

Then she bit into the bar. It's subtle, but for the first time some animation enters her body language.

"'Oh!,' says Misaka as she chews, 'there were flavors like that? There are so many, and so sweet!'"

"It's just dark chocolate with strawberry and melon. There are many more like this out in the world beyond these walls."

I held out another bar, somehow feeling like I was leading a child astray with promises of candy.

"So," I asked while Misaka 1 continued to munch on chocolate,"are you aware of what they have planned for you?"

"'The Misaka Network will take part in an iterative destructive testing and improvement cycle with the goal of instigating a major power development,' Misaka recites, wondering why Accelerator would ask about that."

"In other words, the experiments will be invariably lethal. You will die. Your sisters will die. Are you really alright with that?"

The girl pauses her chewing for a moment.

"'Misaka is a network node unit. She is not alive. She cannot die. All recorded data will be uploaded to the Network,' Misaka explains what everyone should already know."

It actually hurt to hear her say that so blandly. I clenched one of my hands into a fist behind my back.

"You can think, can't you," I tried to take a different approach. "You don't need the network to put thoughts in your mind. You would be thinking and acting like this even on your own, right?"

"'That is correct,' confirms Misaka. 'Being able to deal with transient disconnection is part of the criteria for experimental readiness.'"

"Then by definition, if you can think, if you can conceptualize the very idea of 'you', then you are a person. An individual. Even if you're also part of a larger network."

My voice echoed oddly in the small, bare examination room, as I lost myself in the passion of the argument for a moment. ~~When the fire of pure inspiration is infused into words, all shall listen.~~

"Your memories may be recorded, but you - Misaka 1, the person sitting before me, making new experiences and new memories - will end. Cease. Never to experience anything ever again. An irreplaceable loss to the network, no matter how many of you there may be."

A slight crinkling of her brow was probably as close as she came to a frown.

"'That does not match the data the Network was given,' Misaka objects, while experiencing a new and unpleasant feeling of dissonance."

"Because they have an agenda that is better served by deceiving you. By your death. But I won't be a part of that."

Steps from outside, approaching along the corridor, interrupted us.

"Well," I said, grimacing a little. "Think about it, will you?"

I rapidly folded a printout of my long-form objection paper into something no larger than a stamp and passed it to her. "Don't let them find that."

"Oh, and Misaka 1… if they don't explicitly ask, they don't really need to know about my little visit, don't you think?"

She wiped her face with her other hand, removing more than a few chocolate stains.

"'It sounds logical,' Misaka admits while she hides the evidence of her own misdemeanor."

I smiled and patted her head. "See you around."

I'd meant to get to the point of putting the Level 6 Shift project on ice in this chapter, but then it was conversation time instead. Next chapter, hopefully.

Last edited: Jun 1, 2023

One-Way Road - Accelerator SI vs. the Toaru-verse Black Phoenix - A Harry Potter OC SI via Waifu Catalogue

The Pendragon Contingency - Warhammer 40K SI as DAoT!Arthur Pendragon Cosmic's dreams of distant worlds - Snippet archive

One-Way Road 7

Calling him frog-faced was an unkind way to put it. But I could sort of see where they were coming from. Not that I would ever say it out loud.

"How are you, young man?" The Heaven Canceller greeted me with a kind smile.

It wasn't the first time we'd met. He had been my doctor ever since the fallout of the Special Ability Institute raid. In retrospect I was sure there was some sort of list of VIPs that he would personally attend to.

But his kindness and dedication to his patients were the real thing, no pretense at all.

Going by his appearance he might have been a sixty year old working a stressful job but just as easily a very spry eighty year old. Of course, given one of the tidbits I knew from my other memories, it was actually closer to a hundred. Academy City did have the best anagathics in the world.

Certainly a long enough time to acquire his legendary skills.

And it was all the more impressive for him to maintain that kind and empathetic attitude through all that he must have seen. My other memories commiserated.

"Healing well, I hope. I was sorry to hear of your ordeal the other day. Misusing drugs meant to heal is an evil thing."

I just nodded as the doctor moved to auscultate heart and lungs by rote, before taking a quick look at the scratches left by the hellhound's teeth.

"No inflammation, looking all good here," he confirmed happily, then sat back clearly having noticed that I had something I wanted to talk about.

It was one of the things he did that made him so effective as a doctor. He could tell when asking questions and trying to reach a swift diagnosis was less indicated than just waiting for the other to open up. Something that couldn't be easy in the fast-paced, high-pressure environment of a hospital, even one that answered to him.

He had even managed to draw the barely monosyllabical ten year old Accelerator of the past out of his shell, just a little.

"Is it safe to talk here," I asked after a moment. "I mean, really safe."

The Heaven Canceller raised an eyebrow, but to his credit didn't seem to be merely humoring me.

"In this office? I do believe I can make it so."

With a press of a concealed button on his desk something clicked at the door and a faint all-around humming arose at the edge of my hearing.

There was always UNDER_LINE, of course. Well, maybe. I didn't actually know for sure. Either the nanoscopic machines had some automatic avoidance protocol or my vector control field simply could not distinguish them from common metallic dust.

But then I wasn't trying to hide from Aleister, in fact that was the opposite of what I intended.

I looked up from where I was woolgathering. "Are you aware of project Radio Noise?"

If he was surprised at the mention of a special access project then he didn't show it and just nodded slowly.

"I am aware," he confirmed. "The ethical challenges of human cloning were and remain significant. And there were some discrepancies in oversight, which contributed to the ultimate discontinuation of the project."

"Then," I pressed forward, "you are unaware of the Level 6 Shift project spearheaded by Kihara Gensei?"

"Level 6 Shift," he frowned as if hit by an unpleasant memory.

"It was a thought experiment proposed by Gensei at a medical conference. Utterly unethical, of course, and in extremely poor taste to even try to simulate. But… "

Seeing my thunderous face he faltered and his expression fell into pure dismay.

"They didn't…"

"They did," I confirmed, my voice grating iron.

"Supposedly sanctioned at the highest levels. Dozens of laboratories and institutes involved. A multi-billion Yen budget. And thousands of clones have already been grown."

With every sentence the doctor's face fell further.

"The experiment, no, the murder is supposed to begin on Monday."

I reached into my bag and drew out the stack of printouts I had prepared.

"This is… "

Words failed the famed Heaven Canceller as the full picture assembled itself in front of him from a dozen separate documents.

"Monstrous?" I suggested.

He drew in a long breath before sighing deeply. "That this city we built to advance human understanding for the benefit of all would fall so far. The worst thing is that after all this time I'm not even surprised. Just stunned at the sheer scale of it."

He looked at me speculatively. "But since you're here telling me about it rather than going along with it, I gather that not all is lost."

With a cunning look the Heaven Canceller leafed through the papers and drew out one in particular.

"… by Anonymous?" He looked at me over his spectacles. "Publishing unpopular challenges to the status quo under that titulation has a long tradition, I suppose. But you can be rightly proud of this."

I looked away. "I was planning on sending it to everyone involved in the project, including myself, the day before the first planned experiment. Leave a bit of ambiguity."

"And then on Monday… if I simply don't do it, there is not much they can do," I said simply.

"Attempting to coerce me is not workable. Such an escalation… ," I shuddered at the thought of how much blood might be on my hands at the end of it. "No, nobody wants that."

"But the clones, the Sisters, they can't just stay floating in their tubes forever. They need medical assistance, a solution to their limited lifespan, and places to live. People to take care of them."

"I can't do anything about that."

"And the other problem is Kihara Gensei, who is a very dangerous and well-connected man. Who apparently even managed to have the project sanctioned in secret by the board of directors."

"And he is not someone who will let something as trivial as ethics, project shutdown, or even official censure hold him back from his obsession. Or so some of my sources have said."

Privately I had already resolved that if he just gave me a reason, any reason at all, I would end him. He was just too dangerous.

I could feel Heaven Canceller's eyes on me, a strangely sad look passing over his face at whatever it was he saw.

"I'm not looking to get involved in politics again," he finally said. "But this old man is not entirely without means. There are some who'll still take my calls."

That was, of course, the main reason why I had approached him.

The Heaven Canceller was not a player in the game played between the directors or by the chairman on the world scale. But he was a piece on the board that could not be described as minor, either.

What he had was ample, hard-won experience and connections. Connections all the way up to the chairman himself.

In that regard his power far exceeded mine.

"Let me make a few inquiries and get back to you. "

"And as for the Sisters, I'll make sure we're ready to receive and take care of them."

"Thank you." I took a deep breath. It was honestly a relief to have him on my side in this.

The morning of the first experiment found me slouching next to the entrance to the underground complex. With the hoodie drawn deep over my face and a shawl against the frigid January air I probably made for the classic picture of a delinquent.

The phone in my pocket gave a beep and I briefly looked at the screen.

"Tch."

Gensei still had enough pull, that anything permanent was off the table, it seemed. And Heaven Canceller was asking me for restraint. Ugh.

I made my way inside where the connection was cut off. As I took the elevator down I straightened out my posture and put away the hoodie. Underneath I wore one of my usual shirts with a geometric pattern vaguely resembling stylized arrows. Warning colors, one might say, or more prosaically brand identity.

Though my age would work against me, they needed to take me seriously for more than just the lethality of my esper powers.

Though that was always there as well, of course. Briefly there was a shimmering in the air around me as I ran an algorithm test. Then twisting, unnatural shadows. Pure theater of light manipulation. But then, a bit of theater might be what was required.

The scientists working with - or rather on - me had grown used to compliance. Grumbling, dragging, ill-tempered and sometimes malicious, but compliance nonetheless as long as they knew to push the right buttons.

No more.

I left my bag at the coat hook outside the room overlooking the experiment space. The door opened easily under my hand

Most everyone was already there, the department heads and team leaders. And many more were looking in via telepresence, their faces filling one of the large wall screens. All here for the long awaited beginning of the momentous Level 6 Shift.

The air of anticipation called to mind the arenas of the ancient world, full of prosperous Roman citizens waiting to be entertained by the blood and death of the desperate and the condemned.

On one of the monitors I saw a close up of Misaka 1 waiting in the concrete box below, wearing the Tokiwadai uniform and carrying a handgun. Ave Caesar, morituri te salutant.

I had to look away.

"Ah, Accelerator," a slightly overweight and balding older man addressed me with the air of someone who was used to being obeyed. Dr. Shimadzu, head of experimental design.

"They're actually waiting for you one level down. Everything is already set up for you."

'So step on it, hop, hop,' being the subtext.

Ignoring the implicit order I took a few more steps to place myself in a central position.

"Actually," I spoke up, making sure that my voice would carry and waving the rolled up manifesto of the imaginary whistleblower with my right.

"Before that, there is something that we should clear up."

All eyes turned to me and a ripple of discomfort swept through the room. Later I would review my bodycam and mark the faces of those groaning or making dismissive expressions, and sort them under the heading of 'assholes'. The ones who had known and just not cared. Put names and addresses to them.

"You lied to me."

Dr. Shimadzu, perhaps unfairly singled out, sputtered.

"You lied to me about a hell of a lot. And not just once, but about everything. Consistently for weeks and months."

"Spurious accusations by a disgruntled former employee," a different voice interjected suavely. Dr. Okane, CTO of Higuchi Pharmaceuticals. A smooth snake if there ever was one.

"There is nothing there but alarmist rhetoric from a known troublemaker."

He would have continued further but I cut him off with a sharp gesture.

"Don't even try." I looked around the semicircle that had formed, meeting their eyes in turn, but none of them held for long.

"You cloned a bunch of children for me to murder. Don't try to cover it with pretty words, that's what it is."

More objections to my drastic words arose in a confused jumble. Nobody liked being tarred with that brush in public, however accurate it may be.

"Enough."

The voice of Kihara Gensei from the speakers of the wall screen wasn't particularly loud but it silenced the room in an instant.

"This discussion serves no purpose. The progress of science requires sacrifice. It has always been thus."

Those eyes of his, even through a telepresence screen, were even more effective on his own people than the implicit threat of my power.

"We are the ones who are ready to make the necessary sacrifices. We have worked long and hard to make this project viable. Dedicated our blood and sweat and our livelihoods to its success. All to realize that greatest and perhaps only hope of realizing all that science has promised us."

There was something to his words that drew people in, that made everything seem reasonable, logical, even inevitable. The fire of a zealot under the white coat of a scientist.

"And now, now that it is on you to bear the weight of those hopes - as you agreed to, as you promised to do - you're letting childish notions and undisciplined emotions get in the way? Are you really so selfish that you're willing to destroy everything that this city has worked for just to spare yourself some small measure of hardship?"

What an alarming perceptiveness coupled with a lack of human understanding. Yes, I didn't want that blood on my hands, but not just because of what it would cost me. And did he seriously try to turn this around on me?

"Nothing built on the mass murder of innocent children can be worth achieving. This cannot be the correct way to achieve SYSTEM. Are you trying to achieve the calculations of God or to create the Devil here?"

There is a sort of horrified fascination in the eyes of the present scientists that someone would dare argue in this manner against the Old Man.

Something fey lit up in Gensei's eyes at my acknowledgment of his ultimate goal. "Then…"

"I won't do it. Not like this. I won't allow it. Find a different way."

"I see." And Kihara Gensei's image on the screen winked out.

There was a long moment of silence accompanied by a collective exhale of held breath.

"But… the experiment," Dr. Shimadzu starts again, in a bewildered tone as if he couldn't understand what was happening. "What about the experiment?"

"No," I said simply, punctuating the word by slapping the rolled up paper into my left hand.

"You signed a contract," Dr. Okane tried feebly. "You committed yourself to this project."

"A contract full of bullshit," I scoffed. "I'd like to see you try and make it stick."

One man, gaunt with greasy-looking black hair, pushed to the front. Dr. Amai, former superintendent of Radio Noise and cognitive programming team leader for the Level 6 Shift project.

"Listen to me, boy, I have been on Radio Noise since the very beginning."

There was something wild and desperate to his demeanor. Something that drove him onward even after his boss had already conceded that there was no sense in discussing things any further.

"You say that they are alive, and maybe that's true in the strictly biological sense. But that's it. That's it! There's nothing in their minds that I didn't put there. Pure neurological programming."

"These bodies, these biological substrates, came to be because we made it so, and they will die to further the cause of science. You can't back out now. You can't!"

Did that fucker get off on watching little girls get murdered or something? My restraint, already stretched thin, was near its limit.

He was spitting now, his face contorted with emotion. I actually saw some of the others in the room taking a step sideways to distance themselves further from the increasingly unhinged man.

"It's what we built them for. It's what we programmed them for. To die as part of the experiment is their entire purpose for existing!"

My gaze briefly strayed to the monitor still showing Misaka 1's face and I saw red.

First the metaphorical red tint of rage beyond reason, then red for real as I put my hand into his chest and around his heart.

"Ẅ̸͎̬̺́̔e̷̱̠̦̎ ̶̫̪͆́m̵̟̂͝ư̵̳̣͎ş̴̐͜t̶̹̆ ̸͎̤͆̚a̸̩̞̐̓̄l̵̨̦̉l̵̳͕̋̈́ ̴̨̑̓͘m̸̨̆a̵̻͇͘ͅk̸̲͉̺͊͝e̸̞͐̕ ̴̔͜͝s̷̮͊a̶̙͐̇̉ḉ̵̥͔̿r̴̹̥͚̃ï̶͔͒f̶͉̥́͘i̴̳̰̊c̵͎̣̳͠e̵̼͔̗͛š̷̙̦̐ ̴͇̃f̷͖̲̪͗̓͂õ̸͉̇̕ȓ̸̡̝ ̸͉̒̃s̶̡̱̏ç̶̤͈̒̒͛í̵͈͌̓e̴̱͎͗͌̀ṋ̵̟̰̅̕c̷̡̻̈́͒e̷̜̭̓,̴̪͗́ ̸̯̣̜͋́ī̷̯̳̐s̸̟̎ ̶̰͑͆ẗ̸͚̲͉ȟ̵͝ͅa̵̦̍̔̚t̶̪̎ ̸̦̱̯̀̕̚i̴͈̻̇t̴̞̆?̷̨́̈"

With my left I fed the rolled up paper, unnaturally stiffened under my vector control, through his teeth and down his throat. Then with my right gripping his heart I proceeded to torturously rip out every drop of blood in his body and expel it through the back like wings of crimson.

For good measure I made sure that not one of the others in the room escaped being splattered with red too. ~~Not quite a proper blood eagle, but it did make my point.~~

Perfect silence. The others stood wide-eyed and frozen as the body dropped to the floor, looking barely human anymore.

"Î̴̩͋s̵͎̲͘ͅ ̵̧̰̂̃͜a̵̢͙̎̀ǹ̵̟̖ͅý̷̥̯̠͛͝ò̷̧̪͇͠͠n̷͉͚̋͆̂ë̶͇̍̔ ̶̼̆e̷͓̯̿̆̎l̸̟͇̘̓̋ŝ̷͓͛̈é̸͎͈͚ ̴̲̞̠͘g̵̪̻̊̈̕o̵̭͂́i̴͕̹̖̐̂n̶̖̑̓g̵̪̥̲͂ ̸̧̘͉̃t̶͓̤̒͘o̶̗̼͝͝ ̷͎̈̇͐å̶̯̕͠d̶͉̼̉͗̚v̴̫̓̆o̷̼͛͘͝ḉ̷̯̗a̷̯̼͚͠t̵̳͆͆̚è̸̮͜ ̷̼̊̊f̸̬̊o̷̦͌̋ṛ̶̂̎ ̸̣̾͝m̴̞̪̀͝ù̸͖̯̺ṛ̵͍̅ͅd̴̢̆e̵̮͉̫̅̈́r̵̲͕͚̓̎ȋ̸̱̻͇̅̚n̸̡͎̈́͊͒͜ğ̸̩̪̯̈́̋ ̶̱̜̿c̸̢͚̈h̶̯͐ͅi̴͙͂͘l̵̼̳̇ͅd̵̥͔̾̏r̴̪̔ę̷̲̩̇̈́̉n̸͎̊?̴̳̀̐̏"

My voice literally shook the walls. ~~Show them. Show them all.~~

"What? Was this not what you wanted? Me stretching my abilities in ever more creative violence. Are you not entertained?"

"I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty, as you can see, but even I have standards."

At what point had I activated the 'writhing shadows' script anyway? I had no conscious memory of doing so.

One of them had his gun half drawn from its holster before he had clearly thought better of it. A man of Western origin, clean shaven with blonde hair and an athletic build for his age. Keitz Nokleben, project security supervisor.

"And you! Are you seriously about to try and defend that piece of shit there? Or are you just another concentration camp guard, dutifully 'following orders' while the ovens burn?"

"A̷n̸s̷w̵e̷r̶ ̶m̶e̶!̵" My voice struck him like a whip.

"I didn't know!" The man's voice was a tortured thing. It ripped from him as if against his own will. "They told me they were just biological robots."

He drops the gun and falls to his knees crying and covering his eyes. "I swear, I didn't know. ~~Master.~~"

I took a deep breath, then nodded curtly. That was not the reaction of someone complicit. It stood to reason that not all personnel had the ability or inclination to chase down the truth scattered through a hundred and fifty-one primary sources.

And this had already been a bit less theater and a bit more genuine loss of control than I had intended. ~~Nothing wrong with a little bit of madness now and then.~~

"Alright. I'm going to take the Sisters out of here. You people do whatever."

Doorknob in hand I turned back once more to the gathered scientific elite standing like statues, splattered with blood.

"And just in case any of you should get the bright idea of, say, bringing in some cleaners to murder the witnesses and bury the evidence…"

My broad, malicious grin must have been horrific from the way the men and women flinched as one.

"I have the names of each and every one of you," I let my pointing finger cover each of them in turn, "and if you start playing at genocide then I will make sure that you all get to join them in a nice and cozy mass grave."

I wouldn't, of course. That would be extremely disrespectful to their innocent victims, being stuck in the same grave. And I would make sure that there wasn't any third party doing false flag operations first, too.

"Do you think a signature on a piece of paper can protect you? Do you think Anti-Skill can? Or your little black ops groups?"

"T̷̺͈̀h̸̼̋̃̋į̴͔̎̒͘n̵̦̠͋͝k̶̪̩̀̐ ̴̠͐a̴̪̳͝ğ̸̦̜͇a̴͔͉̺̐ĭ̴̦̲̋͝n̷͙̪̳̏̆̋."

"'Is this part of the experiment,' Misaka asks as she tries to look everywhere at once."

Armed and fully clothed Misaka 1 led the gaggle of six other Sisters in patient gowns after me out of the elevator and into the crisp January air outside.

"The experiment has been abolished," I explained. "We're going to see a medical specialist, a friend of mine, to make sure that you'll be alright."

"'Is this what the outside air is like,' asks Misaka rhetorically, while drawing in as much as she can. 'It's so different.'"

That was Misaka 7, sniffing with her nose held high.

"'That must be the sun we have heard about. It's so much brighter than the lamps,' says Misaka while marveling at the beauty of it."

"Don't stare at it too long, Misaka 16, or you'll hurt your eyes."

As long as they kept to their position in the single file formation I could address them by their number, but if I lost track even once I would be lost.

"'Do you have more chocolate,' asks Misaka, trying to confirm the existence of the treat the Network has learned about recently."

I slipped an electronic omni-key into the door of the largest car in the employee parking lot.

"Everyone in, then you can have chocolate."

Misaka 1, in her Tokiwadai uniform, rode shotgun as befit her clear leadership position.

Misaka 32 on the other hand got to distribute the chocolate bars, gaining her instant popularity with the others.

Driving on the left side of the street was a bit of a hair-raising experience without prior experience. My passengers were not immune to impacts as I was.

"'Accelerator called us Sisters children earlier,' Misaka complains, objecting to the term with good reason."

"'We are grown to full functionality. Our brain capacity exceeds most adults. We have many skills.'"

"And yet," I said softly, "how much of this world have you experienced, Misaka 1? How many people have you interacted with, who have treated you as persons rather than as lab equipment?"

I briefly took my eyes away from the road to meet hers. "It's experience that lets us grow as people and not age or growth hormones or implanted skills."

"I'm not one to talk in that regard, really," I mused, returning my focus to the traffic. "In truth, many would call me a child myself, still."

"Most likely you will grow in maturity to match your biological age and beyond quicker than normal girls with the way you can share your memories and experiences. But for the moment children is what you are. There is no shame to it, everyone starts out this way."

"'Mmh,' vocalizes Misaka, not entirely convinced but not inclined to argue further at this time."

She poked the car radio. "'Radio. Like Radio Noise. Does it make noise then,' says Misaka, while trying to find the connection."

"Was that a pun? See, you're already learning new things."

Something sparked between her hand and the car radio.

Electric guitar chords started strumming at high volume. "Livin' easy, lovin' free…"

"'Is this what is called music,' Misaka asks, uncertain how to classify this event."

"Rock n' Roll," I confirm to the question from the backseat, subconscious nodding along with the rhythm.

"'I like it,' says Misaka, determined to learn about this phenomenon."

Then one of them imitated me. Then another.

By the time we arrived at the hospital I had an entire car full of Misaka clones headbanging and some of them trying to sing along to the chorus.

"… on the Highway to Hell."

What was this, I don't even.

So much talking, so little violence. Is this even still an Accelerator story? All I wanted was to get done with this quickly and efficiently…

Last edited: Jun 2, 2023

One-Way Road - Accelerator SI vs. the Toaru-verse Black Phoenix - A Harry Potter OC SI via Waifu Catalogue

The Pendragon Contingency - Warhammer 40K SI as DAoT!Arthur Pendragon Cosmic's dreams of distant worlds - Snippet archive

One-Way Road 8 - Time Skip I

"The restructuring of the institutes involved in the production is almost complete and they are all implementing the Heaven Canceller's treatment plan. Within three months all of the Sisters should be decanted and six weeks after that the treatments complete."

"Good. Still no sign of foul play anywhere?"

Keitz, that is security supervisor Nokleben, had taken to giving me regular reports. Having access to all aspects of the project he was well-positioned to keep an eye on things.

One dramatic refusal peppered with death threats and a symbolic rescue did not put an immediate end to an X billion Yen project involving hundreds of people. Such things had an inertia all of their own. Dealing with the logistics and financials involved had to be a nightmare.

But everyone who had been present for my inspired rant had been suitably cowed. Some of the more extreme cases to the point of an actual conversion experience. And that crowd had included every department head or team leader who could make it, physically or via telepresence.

Old man Gensei, of course, was not deterred in the least. He had, reportedly, initially been spitting mad at the delay to and likely complete shutdown of the Level 6 Shift.

But there had been a suspicious lack of support for him from above. Which I had taken to mean that the Heaven Canceller's connections had come through. Depending on how important my position as #1 truly was to Aleister's plans, conveying my position into the right ears might even have been enough.

I did not kid myself that this was an influence I could wield freely, however. The #1 I might have been, but against the true powers of Academy City that didn't mean much. Not yet. ~~In time I would make it so.~~

In any case, Gensei had pivoted quickly enough and now no one was sure whether he was in a state of serene acceptance, possessed by a perpetual glacially cold rage or simply consumed with intense planning for his next experiment.

He had also further intensified the precautions he had taken ever since the Machine Cult's abilities of audio-based hypnosis had come up, Keitz had found out. Reportedly Gensei exclusively used voice-to-text subtitles in video calls and telepresence now.

"There are still only rumors regarding the long-term prospects, though," Keitz continued. "Politics have gotten involved, so the discussion is too far above my level. No significant movements on the Dark side either, apart from the usual attempts at scientific espionage."

"Continue to keep an ear to the ground," I instructed. "If someone wants to turn the Sisters into their private army, abscond with the project data and technology to replicate them, or whatever else they come up with… I want to know about it."

"Yes, master."

There was a moment of awkward silence. It was something of an embarrassment to me that Keitz still sometimes slipped up and addressed me as 'master'. That hadn't been what I intended, no matter how useful it had proven.

But things being as they were, all I could do was move on and take responsibility. ~~A ruler takes care of his vassals.~~

"Moving on… "

Slipping my headphones off my head I leaned back on my bench in one of the bigger shopping centers in Academy City to look at the early March sun through the large atrium windows. With my vector field there was no chance of being overheard, so there was no reason not to make such calls in public.

Besides, not many would make the connection between the teenager with with black hair and blue eyes lounging on a public bench and the infamous blood-soaked #1. And no, I wasn't messing around with hair dye and contacts to conceal my rather recognizable usual coloring.

Color, after all, was just a matter of which wavelengths of light were being reflected by an object. And reflection was my specialty.

The calculations for a complete physics model of 150.000 individual hairs and their natural movements in response to wind and other forces, not to mention reshaping my vector control field to conform to their surface exactly, were surprisingly intensive for such a frivolous use of my power. But if I squinted just right I could consider it practice.

The reason I had taken such an uncharacteristic precaution was because it had eventually come out how the 'Machine God' cult had managed to get one over me.

And as I had expected, that had prompted a steady stream of more or less incompetent copycats, all trying to make their rep by going up against the #1.

I had moderated my responses in proportion to the degree to which they endangered innocent bystanders and how much they annoyed me. Most of them would, after lengthy stays in the hospital, eventually regain their mobility.

Then there had been the asshole who had tried to gas an entire movie theater full of people, including children, with a fentanyl derivative to get to me. Out of him I'd made an example.

It had only added to the annoyance that apart from all the cheap tricks their abilities had almost all been either boring or weak or both. Which wasn't to say that a level 2-3 ability couldn't be extremely effective with the right skills and tactics. But not in the hands of those troglodytes.

Was I turning into a battle junkie? I hoped not. But it couldn't be denied that high pressure clashes of esper powers absolutely were water on the mills of ability improvement.

But today in particular I wanted to avoid any such complications.

People watching, though the old Accelerator hadn't been particularly fond of it, had taken on a new meaning lately. In a shopping center like this, frequented primarily by students of the Ability Development Curriculum, I could feel IPD diffusion fields emanating and swirling and interacting everywhere.

I could even make guesses at what their powers might be just from the 'taste' of the fields: Psychokinetic. Pyrokinetic. Some sort of clairvoyant. And that one felt a bit like a teleporter, though probably too weak to do much with it. It was fascinating.

Common knowledge held that these fields were too faint for humans to notice, only being detectable by way of the specialized equipment used in the System Scan. Or when two esper powers clashed directly and with full force.

But apparently that wasn't the case for me. I hadn't noticed in the heat of the moment, but it had begun after my first encounter with those 'anomalous specimens', which were almost certainly magic. And the sensitivity of my perception had only further increased the more I had tried to grasp the principles by which my three samples of that mysterious force worked.

Progress on that had been limited, though. I could tell that they ran on some form of energy foreign to the theories of physics I was aware of. Or rather three different types of foreign energy, each item having their own flavor so to speak. It wasn't much of a leap to equate that to the 'mana' or 'vital energy' that supposedly powered magic, but putting a name to it didn't make understanding it any easier.

The haversack was easy enough to use and I had gained a lot of interesting data on its spatial manipulation of the 'pocket dimension' variety. Watching, or rather sensing it in action through my vector manipulation field was wild. The mechanism behind it however remained obscure. And I still hadn't yet found a way to spoof the way it somehow knew which item I wanted to withdraw.

The other two items were even less convenient in that regard.

To my new and unexplained sensitivity the ring gave the impression of being something like a shield: Entirely reactive in nature, waiting for some sort of event or stimulus to appear in the vicinity. I had taken to wearing it on a cord around my neck, just in case I encountered whatever it was meant to guard against. Maybe then I would learn more.

The metal disc on the other hand had me entirely stumped. My best result was in an extended sensory deprivation session, where I gained an impression of a hugely complex interface. It felt a bit like a six-dimensional aircraft cockpit, but dark and non-reactive as if it was missing its power source.

If I could just risk more forceful interaction, then I'd be able to tell more, I was sure. Maybe even learn to direct and control this power. But I didn't want to break these irreplaceable objects and I was wary of the esper/magic interaction my other memories had warned me about.

I took one last sip from my can of coffee, then crushed the can into a near-solid block of aluminum and threw it into the next trash can. In my other memories I hadn't been fond of coffee, but Accelerator had been very nearly addicted to the stuff.

A high-pitched yell drew me from my thoughts. Three girls in Tokiwadai uniforms were moving through the crowd of shoppers in a partial diamond formation with a fourth having abandoned her position to run ahead towards me.

"'First,' yells Misaka triumphantly, having reached the goal ahead of everyone else."

Misaka 32, distinguished by her pixie cut, seemed entirely unrepentant at having broken formation under Misaka 1's disapproving gaze and whatever communication passed between them through their Radio Noise connection.

"'Hello,' Misaka says her greetings, hoping to convey that she is happy to see Accelerator again."

Unlike some of the others Misaka 1 hadn't changed her appearance away from the 'default', but I still recognized her easily enough. Not only was her IPD diffusion field probably the strongest and most clearly defined of the Sisters I had met, she had also taken up a bit of an oldest n-tuplet sister role among them.

"Hello again. It's good to see you all doing well."

Misaka 13 with longer hair than the others and carrying a violin gig-bag and Misaka 78 with her large headphones said their greetings as well.

This wasn't the first of these outings. I would have been fully content to simply know that the Sisters were well taken care of. But no, the Heaven Canceller and Aiho had conspired to keep me involved and my protests had fallen on deaf ears.

I would have thought that between the anti-social tendencies and the murder I'd make for a terrible role model and that people should be keeping impressionable children away from me. But they'd clearly disagreed.

And once I had been confronted with fait accompli in the form of a group of Misaka clones looking forward to an outing planned behind my back, I couldn't very well say no.

Misaka 1 was carrying a long shopping list on behalf of more than a dozen other Sisters who could not be here today. She was frowning with concentration as she took the lead and plotted out our course through the shopping center.

"'Piggy-back ride, piggy-back ride', demands Misaka, wanting to see things from a higher perspective."

With a long-suffering expression I indulged Misaka 32 as we moved up the escalators.

I had been trying to improve my physical fitness, if with middling results at best. Kind of wiry was better than scrawny as a stick, I supposed. But if some guy other than the late Touma with an absolute negation ability ever showed up, I really didn't want to get beaten in such an embarrassing way. So I stuck with it. Carrying one of the Sisters was something I could do.

"'Can we go to the electronics store as well,' asks Misaka in the hopes of finding a phone to fit her specifications."

I looked at Misaka 1, who nodded. "'I will adjust the plan', concedes Misaka, though it is a divergence from the previously agreed upon path."

Misaka 13 was the most quiet of the quartet, watching the people around us with a measure of suspicion, the latch of her violin case never far from her hands.

"And two more of the chicken udon, there you go."

"'Itsh sho good,' criesh Mishaka, astounded by the tashte."

That's right, for Misaka 78 this was the first time she got to eat restaurant food. I smiled at the antics and gave a nod of thanks to the waitress, probably an upper year high-school student doing a part-time job.

It had only been a couple of hours but I was already exhausted by the effort of being social.

"'Onii-chan, onii-chan, can we have ice for dessert,' asks Misaka in a penetrating tone, planning to use further psychological warfare if the answer is the wrong one."

Misaka 32, it was clear, had turned out to become a bit of a brat and had already found a couple of buttons to try pushing to get her way over hapless adults and adult-adjacent persons.

But I still was glad they were showing so much individuality and animus after just two months of freedom.

"You girls be nice for your brother," the waitress admonished lightly with a smile.

"'Accelerator isn't our brother, he's our boyfriend,' Misaka states happily."

I choked on my rice for a moment. The waitress' judgmental glare bored into me like a laser.

"Ah," I finally managed. "That particular term has an additional meaning beyond 'a friend who is a boy', one with very different connotations. You might cause a dangerous misunderstanding if you use it carelessly."

Four faces full of question marks turned to me and I started to sweat.

"You should let the adults explain it to you. Like Heaven Canceller or Yomikawa. Or Madame Heart."

The latter was an older lady running an orphanage that had taken in a number of the Sisters. She'd seemed nice, if a bit rigid.

"'Why,' asks Misaka, not understanding why she shouldn't just look it up on her new phone."

Misaka 78 proudly held up her newest toy, which hopefully would last longer than a couple of days this time before she took it apart.

"'Mmh. Mmh,' hums Misaka as she plans to prove her competence in using modern media for research."

"'I see,' nods Misaka, as understanding her mistake. 'It's a matter of different social relationship categories. A misclassification may give offense or cause emotional injury.'"

The others nodded in perfect unison, which some might have found creepy. I thought it was adorable.

She continued tapping and sliding for a minute, then she tilted her head in confusion.

"'I don't understand this, though,' admits Misaka with some concern. 'Are they wrestling? Is this an anatomy study?'"

I nearly spit blood. "Give that over here."

Abusing my vector control I took the phone out of Misaka 78's hands with just the tip of my finger, quickly navigated away from that page and purged the history.

"There. New rule, for all of you," I stated with a solemnity only slightly diminished by my previously frantic demeanor.

"Safe Search is to remain active until Heaven Canceller confirms in writing that it's alright to turn it off."

"'Rule has been logged,' states Misaka, wondering why her sisters must always make trouble."

Misaka 1 and I exchanged a long-suffering look.

Even if she didn't understand the exact problem, being de facto the oldest and apparently by inclination one of the most responsible of the sisters she'd become my ally of sorts in riding herd on the rest of them.

"And you still should let the adults explain it to you," I added.

"Brother or not, you should listen to him," the waitress interjected, clearly amused at the interplay now that the misunderstanding had been resolved.

"With these things it's best to ask your guardians, even if it may be embarrassing to do so. The internet is full of misinformation."

I gave her a thankful look for supporting me. It was looking like it would be a big tip.

"'Never trust just one source,' Misaka confirms darkly, having already learned this lesson."

Misaka 13 was quieter than many of the others and a bit gloomy, but no less a valued part of the network. And she was a crack shot with the scaled down plasma gun.

"So, how about that ice cream?" Seeing that the main course had somehow vanished in the interim I took the opportunity for a change of subject.

Good thing that the stipend for a Level 5 could cover all manner of financial troubles.

Time to skip ahead a little. I thought about having one of the suicidal lemmings try their luck to showcase a bit more of the tech Accelerator has been working on in his spare time (including some self defense options for the sisters), but decided against it in the end. Hope it didn't up as too much summarizing this way.

Last edited: Jun 3, 2023

One-Way Road - Accelerator SI vs. the Toaru-verse Black Phoenix - A Harry Potter OC SI via Waifu Catalogue

The Pendragon Contingency - Warhammer 40K SI as DAoT!Arthur Pendragon Cosmic's dreams of distant worlds - Snippet archive

One-Way Road 9 - First Meeting (repost)

Nothing really new here, just a few little touch ups on the original version. But we're all caught up now.

Around mid-April:

"Come on, babe. We can show you a good time, can't we boys?"

"I said, piss off," the girl's language was offensive but even more cutting was her utterly dismissive tone.

With a sigh I closed my tablet. There was no way I'd be reading a dense scientific article by Dr. Kiyama with that clown show in the background. Not without blocking out all sound and peripheral vision, anyway.

I'd chosen this diner for being relatively close to one of the 'bad parts of town', if such a thing could be said to exist in Academy City. I didn't quite remember when in the timeline the whole Level Upper affair started, so in addition to keeping an eye on various message boards and darknet exchanges I spent some time hanging out in places like this in case I'd come across rumors of shady dealings of the interesting sort.

The price of that, of course, was increased interaction with the less savory part of the citizenry. Well, at least they were honest about what they wanted. Give me ten of these over a single white-coated mass murderer with a fancy doctorate, every time.

"Come now, girly. Your man's not showing. See now, there's a good girl. We'll make it worth your while, don't you worry."

Rising from my seat with a sigh I returned my tablet to my trusty haversack and started sauntering toward the front of the diner.

No hardened criminals, I assessed, just a group of high-school gangster wanna-bes.

The girl, though. She was younger than I'd have expected in a place like this and wearing the uniform of the famous Tokiwadai middle school. With a very familiar shade of brown to auburn hair in a short cut and a flower hair clip, could it be… ?

She didn't seem to be actually resisting being maneuvered out of the diner, giving more an appearance of being reluctant than actually doing something. And the wanna-be gangsters were keeping their hands to themselves for now, mostly looming, coaxing, and standing or walking closer than appropriate.

Even if it wasn't the actual Railgun and just someone copying her style, Tokiwadai didn't admit any student below Level 3. There shouldn't be much they could do against the girl's will… but I was already standing. Following them outside it was, I supposed.

By the time I arrived at the alley next to the diner things had escalated a bit, but not too much. They were standing around her now, boxing her in, pressuring her implicitly while putting a more positive spin on it with their words.

"But I don't want to go with you," the auburn-haired esper complained. "I want to go home. Let me go please."

Expanding my senses I could feel the IPD diffusion field she emanated like the electromagnetic heartbeat of a star. Power greater than any other I'd felt since developing this perception. With that strength there could be no doubt about her identity even if I hadn't seen her face.

Unfortunately the wanna-be toughs rightly assessed her reluctance as insincere. And predictably they drew entirely the wrong conclusion, taking it for playing coy, which only encouraged them. This would end in tears for sure.

"Gentlemen," I interrupted the unfolding scene. "Don't you think you should take the lady at her word? Before something unfortunate happens?"

I wasn't sure whose irritated glare was more heated, the Railgun's or the high-schoolers. The only outlier was high-schooler number five, who appeared to recognize me and went pale as chalk. Unfortunately he also appeared to be too stricken to talk, only mutely backing away. And so his friends proceeded to dig themselves deeper still.

"And what do we have here, huh? A white knight?" The lead tough frowned as he looked at me. "More like a white freak. Fuck off, asshole. Find your own whore."

I sighed and closed my eyes as the events took their inevitable turn, crackling lightning, screams of pain and all.

"… and for calling me that word," the electromaster finished, "that's worth an entirely new round of punishment just for you!"

"Don't you think they've had enough," I interjected as she wound up for a new round of tasing, trying to be the voice of reason.

"Look, he's already pissed himself. I'm guessing you don't actually want to kill them… ?"

Actually she had shown remarkable control and judgment with regard to the strength of her electric discharges. Sure, if one of them had some sort of pre-existing heart condition that might have been trouble. But then fixing a ventricular fibrillation probably was within her power easily enough.

"Hmmpf." The Tokiwadai girl tossed her hair back. " Someone needed to teach them a lesson."

Ignoring the others who were now slowly starting to crawl away, she turned back to the leader of the high-schoolers, who froze like a rabbit before a snake.

"Isn't that right? You'll treat girls with respect and courtesy from now on, won't you?"

The high-schooler's tearfully stammered apologies and promises seemed to placate her somewhat.

"Fine," she scoffed. "Run. But if I ever hear another word about you messing with a girl like this again, you'll wish you'd never been born!"

As he hobbled away, the Railgun rounded on me with a defiant look in her eyes.

"And you! You got some kind of complaint about how I dealt with those bozos? You think I should just stand there and take it?"

Lifting my hand in a gesture of peace I shook my head, smiling. "Not at all. They were out of line. Asking for it, really. "And if it had been someone else, someone without a strong esper ability they were harassing, they'd have been in real trouble."

"Hmmpf," she nodded. "Damn right, they were out of line."

"And from what I saw, you were careful not to do permanent damage to them", I continued.

She relaxed a little, seeing that I wasn't about to be confrontational about it and even agreed with her.

"I'm not convinced they'll truly learn from this, however. Except maybe to avoid Tokiwadai uniforms… ," I tried to lighten the mood a little, prompting a little 'hah'.

"That might be the smartest thing they could do," she agrees, grinning now. "Some of my schoolmates might react far more… disproportionately."

"Oh dear," I exclaimed in mock dismay. "Then I might actually have had to step in to save their lives. What a reversal of fortunes."

If I took her at her word then that painted a picture of Tokiwadai that was kind of terrifying.

Misaka Mikoto laughs, relaxing fully now that we're joking. "Being forced to save the villains, what fate for a White Knight."

"I suppose you're going back on your white horse now, riding to the rescue of some other girl who is actually in need of rescue?"

I matched her grin. "The white horse is out to pasture, I'm sorry to say. Got to ride the trains like everyone else."

We laughed, but Mikoto quickly grew serious again. "I just hope there aren't too many more of those guys around, harassing girls. Low-life scum, where do they get off, treating girls like that?"

"I certainly won't be defending their behavior," I began delicately. "Scum is absolutely the right word there."

"But I can kind of see how they got that misconception in their heads in the first place. That diner is a known meeting spot for 'compensated dating'. So, when a pretty girl in a school uniform is sitting in there on her own after dark, possibly waiting for someone…"

"That… you… I wasn't!"

Spark flew around her, crackling like a transformer about to explode.

I wasn't sure if the color on her face was from rage and humiliation over what I implied those guys may have thought of her or from embarrassment over the compliment. Either way, it was a cute look on her. I was dearly tempted to bully her more.

"I know," I said simply and disarmingly. "You in particular would never have any need to resort to such things."

"Exactly!"

"Why, if it was a date you wanted, you'd have your pick of just about anyone."

"Yes! Wait, no! I mean, that's not the point!"

Somehow her blush became even deeper.

"Most likely they would have to hold a grand tourney for you to decide who was even worthy of asking on their knees for the beautiful princess' favor."

I held one hand to my chest, the other moving in an elaborate gesture to accompany an exaggerated courtly bow.

"Raaaaaaargh… you!"

A lance of lightning stabbed out from her ahoge to hit the crown of my head… and disappeared without a trace as I grounded it instantly. Not even an actual superconductor lightning rod would come close to my vector control ability.

A flurry of expressions crossed her face, from exasperated embarrassment, to surprise and regret at her loss of control to finally settle on confusion. "Huh?"

"Yes, princess?"

"Don't call me that!" This time the electrical arc was firmly intentional, but equally without effect.

"Interesting weather phenomena we're having," I commented, the corner of my mouth twitching in amusement.

"You… you are doing that on purpose," she yelled, outraged. "Saying those things, doing… that."

Smirking now, I held up my thumb and index finger as I backed away a little. "Maybe a little."

"Aaaahh!" This time she let me have it with both hands and a significantly higher amperage.

Grass burst into flame at my feet at the edge of the street, ground blackened and even melted in a few places.

"So violent," I shook my head in mock dismay. "I really am in danger now. Best I run away…"

Mikoto really got into it then, hammering me with repeated lightning strikes at continuously escalating power, while I started to move further back from the street and towards the riverside.

"Stand still and take it like a man!"

Adjusting electron flow vectors remained, of course, as simple as ever. With a bit of mischievousness I extended my field outwards a bit, gathering ionized air molecules into broad streaks that caused the Railgun's strikes to miss by increasingly large margins with no apparent reason.

"How are you doing this?"

"It must be the heavens smiling down on me, to gain the attention of such an interesting individual as the famed Railgun."

"I'll show you heaven!"

Something thrummed like a guitar string but so deep as to be at the very edge of hearing. I could feel her IPD diffusion field blooming outwards, buffering me like solar wind, as the electromagnetic stellar heartbeat became so fast as to blur together.

"Oh my."

I continued to play the clown even as the clouds far above filled with sheet lightning. With my vector field I could feel the electromagnetic fields all around going crazy, building up to a grand crescendo.

This. This was the true power of a Level 5 electromaster. The electromaster, in fact. Misaka Mikoto, the Railgun of Tokiwadai.

Something shifted at the center of her, solidifying from an ephemeral touch into rock solid fact as she brought all her strength to bear. Was that her personal reality overruling physics? I had never felt it this clearly or so strongly.

I couldn't take her lightly when she was like this. The interference of conflicting psychic abilities was not easy to predict. Power mattered and calculation capacity, but also emotion and willpower. If she brought out her absolute best effort and I just played around, it wouldn't be entirely impossible for her personal reality to overrule mine for just an instant.

The flickering of the sheet lightning in the sky reached its peak in intensity and simultaneously Mikoto brought down two clenched fists as if moving against tremendous resistance. Lightning surrounded her whole body like an electrical aura, then shot upwards as a questing streak of guidance lightning.

"Hnnnngg, Judgment of the Heavens!"

No more passivity and jokes. I condensed my will in a snap, expressing my personal reality into absolute dominance over every vector around me.

Then the titanic fury of nature, a weight somehow exceeding the purely physical parameters of voltage and amperage, crashed down on me in the form of an impossibly big lightning strike.The world disappeared in white light and silence.

But I wasn't content with just a simple grounding or reflection. Seeing the Railgun go all out like this had lit a fire inside me as well. I wanted to match her, do something new, and exert myself to the fullest to show her the respect due to a worthy opponent.

Around the untouchable center of my physical self a complex set of redirection vectors opened like a lotus flower. Every part of the titanic electron flow that hit upon my vector field was caught and forced into a new course.

Directed electron flows, electromagnetic field vectors, streams of air sublimated into plasma by the enormous energies, all bent into a dazzlingly complicated interplay dancing all around me. Overlaid, interwoven and alloyed together. ~~Show your majesty.~~

For a few seconds, after the blinding flash and deafening thunderclap passed, three halos hovered above my head like the crown of a deity. Rings of captured lightning circulating through rapidly spinning plasma, ringing with bell-like tones in three part harmony.

Then, with a downward gesture of my hand the phenomenon broke down and grounded itself, sizzling at my feet for a moment before silence asserted itself. Real silence, to match the darkness all around with every electrical light within two hundred meters destroyed.

"Impressive," I acknowledged quietly with a nod of respect, my joking act dropped completely.

That was beautifully done. Really, if other people had possessed senses like mine then I would sort of understand why some people challenged me despite having no chance at winning whatsoever.

There was something majestic about seeing another Level 5's masterpiece in expressing their personal reality to such an extent. Like poetry in motion, utter technical mastery of the mathematics involved and the sublimity of a will that bent the very world into a new shape.

I hoped that my answer was similarly well received as the gesture of respect it was meant as.

Mikoto didn't answer for a while, bent forward with her hands on her knees, wheezing with the exertion.

When she looks up there is a curious duality in her eyes. A hint of fear and something else as well.

"Who are you?"

"I am known as the Accelerator," I said simply, giving a small bow. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Oh." She was silent for a moment after that. Then, she started chuckling, eventually progressing to a full belly laugh.

Shaking her head and grinning ruefully she conceded: "Trying to teach a lesson to the actual #1. I never had a chance, did I?"

"Precious few things are absolute in this world," I replied seriously. "There is always a chance. And if there is not, then make it so."

"That last technique, that was beautifully done. And I don't doubt that you have not shown even a fraction of your arsenal."

I grinned. "It was the best showing I've seen in a long time. At our level that's not something trivial."

That space-bending cyborg a couple of months ago had been a greater threat, but that was with all kinds of technology and cheats to prop him up, which marred the beauty of his esper power.

"That was fun," Mikoto admitted. She smiled, more comfortable and natural now.

"Misaka Mikoto," she introduced herself. "Also known as the Railgun. Nice to meet you, too. You're… not as bad as the rumors say."

She glanced around, looking a little guilty at the mess we've made of the meadow and the blackout in the distance. "I… may have gone a little overboard."

I made a dismissive gesture. "The city has insurance for that sort of thing. Although… we may not want to be here when the authorities get here. Unless you like getting lectured."

By unspoken agreement we began to walk away from the scene of the crime along the river bank, swiftly but not quite running, accomplices in crime.

"Really, it wouldn't be so bad if I was just allowed to go all out even once in a while," Mikoto complained as we walked.

"Ever since I got to Level 5 it's always 'don't do that at school', 'that's too dangerous for the System Scan', or 'you could hurt someone if you lose control'. I have so many ideas, but so little opportunity to really stress test them. Can you believe that was the first time I got to do cloud-to-ground lightning for real?"

"You need to stretch yourself to improve," I agreed. "There is a military testing ground in District 23, where I like to go to test certain power applications. Hardened against EM pulses, too."

"And they'd, what, just let a student go in?" Mikoto seemed doubtful.

I smirked. "You'll find that, student or not, there are very few doors that remain closed when it's one of us Level 5s asking."

Not to mention that we Level 5s were strategic assets for Academy City. They'd hardly prevent us from honing that capacity.

"But if you don't want to risk it, we could go together," I reassured her.

She threw me a side glance with a calculative expression and a newly kindled fire in her eyes. "I wouldn't mind a rematch. Don't think you'll get off that easily!"

I laughed. "Gladly. Only steel sharpens steel. It's a date."

"Not like that," Mikoto protests blushing. "As if… I don't… and you're, like, a college student!"

"I'm sixteen, actually. Although in terms of maturity… ," I tease, laughing as I have to deflect another arc of electricity. "But seriously, I just meant 'date' as in a fixed plan."

Of course, my choice of words was fully intentional in terms of their likely effect on her. But she doesn't need to know that.

"Speaking of which, though. What were your plans anyway, hanging around at that place?"

She looked away embarrassed. "I'd heard rumors that some girls got harassed there and wanted to do something about it. Guess I know how that came about, now."

"Well," I chuckled, "at least one group of local boys will think twice before trying that again."

Somehow, despite the initial volatility of our meeting we had fallen into an easy rhythm. The couple of minutes until the next bridge across the river seemed to pass in an instant. And when we parted there, it was maybe not yet as friends but certainly as friendly acquaintances.

She really made the most adorable expressions in reaction to my teasing.

I considered elaborating more on the timeskip, but decided to just go with catching up to the 'present'. Thus the repost of sorts. Now I'll have to do some serious thinking about what to do next. One more slice of life / fast forward chapter, then Index and Level Upper come into play, is my current idea. But we'll see.

Also, my week of vacation in Toaru-land is coming to a close. Tomorrow it's back to work and I won't be able literally spend most of the day writing or brainstorming. Ideally that would mean just slowing down a lot, but life rarely is ideal. Lost momentum is hard to regain. Best to keep expectations low, then you'll only have positive surprises…

Last edited: Jun 4, 2023

One-Way Road - Accelerator SI vs. the Toaru-verse Black Phoenix - A Harry Potter OC SI via Waifu Catalogue

The Pendragon Contingency - Warhammer 40K SI as DAoT!Arthur Pendragon Cosmic's dreams of distant worlds - Snippet archive

One-Way Road 10.1

Part 1 of 2, if you want to read the whole chapter at once check back by Sunday or so.

"Do you know what a railgun is?"

A hypersonic arcade token inscribed a line of burning white across the field toward me. Standing firm with my arms spread I took it on the chest and with my vector manipulation calculations already preloaded I slapped it aside. The shot went straight through one of the targets as if it wasn't even there and blasted a crater into the backstop of the military firing range.

"Now that is a finishing move," I applauded.

Beyond the enormous physical forces involved, there was also a massive weight of manifest psychic power behind it. Mikoto wasn't just shooting a 'fire and forget' projectile, she was putting the significant gravitas of her identity behind the technique, the name of which she had taken as her name of power.

I felt it, to be sure, unlike regular bullets. Nevertheless it was far away from straining my deflection.

I grinned in anticipation. "But… you're using those tokens to avoid over penetration and excessive collateral, right? If that was not a concern however, how much further could you go?"

Mikoto's disappointed frown at the ease with which her signature move had been neutralized gave way to a thoughtful expression and then a grin of savage anticipation.

My plans to further my education had run into a little snag. Given my spotty and lackluster records and the way the subsidies given to schools for esper attendance didn't apply to universities, enrolling would have been more difficult than expected. If I didn't want to lean on my status that is, which would surely have involved bothersome PR stuff and counted against me in terms of academic reputation.

The least annoying solution I had found was to enroll in a high school with a strong advanced course program (which in Academy City meant all the way up to what would be university graduate level elsewhere) and even stronger cooperation programs.

Thus, once again, I was a proud high school student. Not.

But Nagatenjouki Academy were entirely happy to take the subsidies for a Level 5 student, make arrangements for online materials and exams, and not put up any fuss over my perpetual truancy. Given certain previous incidents that hadn't even been a hard sell.

Meanwhile I had access to a host of educational resources, including courses and consultations at the three cooperating universities. ~~They shall award me the title of doctor soon enough.~~

Whip-like streamers of vibrating black particles suspended within electromagnetic fields scourged across the broken up concrete landscape, leaving deep gouges. One of them struck me across the legs and burst into so much dust.

A second one I caught on my arm and pulled, taking control of it away from its mistress - for all of a second, before it too lost coherency. It had only been a few tries, but I could already tell that the algorithms Mikoto used were tricky. Eventually I'd figure it out, though.

"Still holding back, are you," I taunted. "Where is that vaunted strength you wanted to show me?"

I stomped, causing the ground underneath my opponent to break open into a fissure three meters wide and dozens of meters long. To both the sides large spars of crumpled and shattered ferroconcrete burst upwards.

But rather than falling, Mikoto catapulted herself upward, suspending herself high in the air for a moment with magnetic repulsion. Ferromagnetic particles gathered from all sides, including the newly exposed metal bones of the broken concrete, and gathered behind her like wings of black.

"You asked for it! Don't blame me if you end up crying."

She surged forward, wings darkening the sky above me before they hammered down on me in ringing metal fury. The concrete under my feet fairly disintegrated. And if my resilience had been based in any kind of regular physics I was sure I'd be ground to so much slurry enfolded in a tightening grip of unending vibro-saw 'feathers'.

As it was, not one particle touched my skin, the feathers breaking into dust against my reflection.

"Magnificent," I exclaimed, amplifying my voice to be heard over the infernal din. Incredibly lethal against anyone with a defense less absolute than mine. And the presentation was worthy of a comic book superhero.

Then I pulsed my vector control field outward, asserting control over the clouds of falling uncontrolled particles and whipped them into a cyclone around me. Faster and faster I accelerated them, more and more particles breaking from their electromagnetic suspension and into my control. And once they were mine she couldn't take them from me, not when they were so close and I kept my grip on their vectors tight.

Mikoto drew back the parts she still controlled, but I'd already assembled a veritable tornado of black winds. It was unlikely to do anything against her, I admitted, but it sure looked impressive. Swiftly adjusting my field to transparency I slipped out of the howling vortex, then sent it towards my opponent. Keeping control even at range was a true challenge, but I persisted.

Mikoto had landed beside one of the ferroconcrete spars, undaunted by the approaching storm. Her face twisted with concentration she made to try and retake control by ramping up the electromagnetic field strength to ridiculous levels and pulsing it unpredictably.

And current by current, layer by layer she succeeded in interfering with my calculated trajectories.

Just as a savage smile began to form I lunged around the cover I'd used to approach, hand outstretched. Despite her intense concentration, somehow she still noticed that something was amiss and tried to duck, but I was faster. One tap to her shoulder and it was all over.

"Your loss."

For a moment she looked up at my slowly decloaking form in confusion. Then she slumped. Out of either of our control the black tornado careened sideways towards the tower overlooking the battleground before falling apart.

"Invisibility now? How many tricks do you have?"

But when she looked up again, her eyes were blazing despite the loss. "Next time I'll get you!"

What a violent girl. The way things had been going in these little spars, if she ever did get me I was in for prosthetics and a lengthy recovery phase. If not a coffin.

I had never had so much fun in my life.

"Looking forward to it. Next week?"

1st Teleology Particle Accelerator Laboratory

The sign wasn't particularly impressive, just a small plaque at the bottom of six other similar signs in front of the nondescript building. This place saw a lot of scientific startups pass through, beyond the garage (or, in this city, school lab) stage but before they either failed or began to pull real money.

But it was mine. ~~The first step to my future empire.~~

I even had a grant already. A small one, true. Just enough to cover rent for the building and the necessary equipment for a few months. Maybe to hire a few post-docs without better prospects, if I pinched every penny. But still.

Although it would have been easier on my pride if they had made it less obvious that the selling point was my name and not any kind of scientific merit. After all, I hadn't even submitted a full grant application yet, only a preliminary placeholder with a vague mission statement.

Simply put, I was through letting myself be treated as a lab specimen. If some institute or company wanted to profit from researching my ability or pioneering new power development methods, they'd have to approach me as a peer.

"You want to shoot at me with that thing?" Mikoto's expression was skeptical at best.

"No worries, this isn't a regular gun," I reassured her. Although in theory, unless the bullets were non-ferromagnetic, she should absolutely be able to deflect or decelerate regular bullets, too.

"This beauty here is a coherent pulse plasma rifle." I demonstrated by blasting a melted crater in one of the ferroconcrete blocks downrange.

Mikoto gaped at the sheer destruction.

"Proprietary technologies aside, the principle is not that far removed from a plasma railgun. The plasma charges are susceptible to electromagnetic interference."

"There is no way a Level 5 electromaster wouldn't be able to beat it, right?"

"…" Torn between doubt and pride Mikoto vacillated for a moment. Esper powers might be hilariously dangerous, but there was something uniquely intimidating to the sight of such a huge barrel pointed at you.

Then she made a decisive bring-it-on gesture.

I switched the fire selector down to 'cold plasma' for the first attempt, of course. Pure kinetic energy transfer, basically equivalent to dial-a-yield beanbag rounds.

Not that I told her that before lighting her up.

"Yes, yes, I get it," I cut off the lawyer droning on my earpiece phone.

"Military version approved, the non-lethal variants require safety trials. We expected that," I acknowledged while soaring high in the air over a busy highway.

Apparently the Machine Cult hadn't wanted to share their advances in plasma weapons technology and not patented anything. Perhaps they thought that self-destruct charges were enough copy protection. Now my improved designs had been filed under my name in a bit of petty revenge.

"Are we ready to offer licensing to the Academy City military then? Infantry and scaled up versions?"

With a light tap I landed on the roof on the opposite side of the street, only cracking a single tile for once.

"If they bite, then the fees should cover the trials for the non-lethal variants, right?"

I lined up the next jump on my AR glasses' navigation display and kicked off into another soaring jump. Full flight was still hit and miss but I could jump like nobody's business. Together with a special navigation app it made getting around the city quite a bit faster.

"Yes, whatever. So we don't go into the red on that. But I'd expect Anti-Skill to be quite interested in a better non-lethal arsenal. I have a connection there I can approach."

Vector field manipulation: Aerodynamic envelope active. Extend range and increase crosswind acceleration, duration: 3 seconds.

A high-flying drone in my way was swept aside and tumbled for quite a bit before catching itself.

"Of course that would be more profitable. But there would be risks. I have enemies, you know."

I touched down on a somewhat dilapidated rooftop. The chevron-shaped miniaturized mass spectrometer on my shirt's collar gave a coded vibration and my vector field automatically switched to full exclusion. Most likely it was another false alarm but I wouldn't be poisoned again.

"Something has come up. I'm going to have to call you back."

"No, you do it like this…"

An errant spark flew off her bangs and the open frankenstein computer cluster between us started beeping like mad as one security protocol after another fell to Mikoto's electromastery.

The screen flickered and then one window after another opened, showing the files we'd defined as 'the secret'.

"There. Easiest thing in the world." Mikoto beamed at my stunned expression.

I already knew she was good at hacking, but this…

In a city as deeply networked as Academy City, running on information technology at every level, and rife with dangerous secrets, Mikoto's dominance over any kind of electronics was frankly OP as fuck.

That had been the same kind of top level security used for strategic scale black projects like the Level 6 Shift. Along with a few experimental countermeasures of my own that I'd tinkered with while thinking of the Machine Cult's technopathy.

Not even air gaps were a perfect defense against electromastery at this level. Maybe there was something to those rumors that optical computing was already in use at the highest levels. The board of directors certainly wouldn't accept living in fear of a middle-school girl reading all their dark secrets.

Vector field perception: Stable infiltration of processor, chip set and peripherals. 1.34 seconds of recorded electron flow vector data at pico-scale resolution. Apply abstraction layer protocols. Processing. Model complete. Correlate physics distortion field interference to identify all electromastery based read or write actions for analysis. Processing.

I would probably never match her ability to hack servers at the other end of the city from a piddly little handheld device. And I had to put a great deal of conscious effort into what she did as instinctively as breathing. But as long as I was close enough to propagate my vector control field through the computation substrate, I should be able to learn from her.

Picking away at a story half an hour at a time snatched here and there does hit differently. Different 'tool marks' too, probably. This chapter was meant as a quick 2k word montage of extremely brief scenes illustrating roughly mid-April to early June, hinting more than showing. But it ballooned a bit to more than twice the intended word-count, perhaps not necessarily for the better. Whatever. The second part shouldn't take much longer.

Last edited: Aug 16, 2023

One-Way Road - Accelerator SI vs. the Toaru-verse Black Phoenix - A Harry Potter OC SI via Waifu Catalogue

The Pendragon Contingency - Warhammer 40K SI as DAoT!Arthur Pendragon Cosmic's dreams of distant worlds - Snippet archive

One-Way Road 10.2

Tanaka Hiroshi, CEO of Mizuho Biomedical, found himself woken up by the sudden and overpowering sensation of falling. He scrambled to find something to hold on to but his body wouldn't obey his panicking mind, moving slowly as if through syrup.

Deep underneath he could see streets and less high-rising houses, a familiar perspective from the rooftop garden of his penthouse apartment. But normally he was standing on the observation deck with a woman or two, not suspended in the air well over the edge.

Although 'suspended' may be the wrong word, given that the zero gravity he experienced was even more unnerving than being actively held from a two hundred meter fall. It was a constant drone of adrenaline in his veins, a baseline of panic that only got worse as his rational mind realized exactly how deep in it he was.

There was a man standing at the railing. A man with white hair and eyes that seemed fairly luminescent with red under the light of the moon was grinning like a maniac at the predicament Tanaka Hiroshi found himself in.

None of his security systems had been alerted. None of his highly paid bodyguards had done a thing. Even the biomonitor bracelet on his wrist was calm and dark despite the way his heart seemed determined to beat its way out of his chest.

"Good evening, Mr. Tanaka," the man said, the simple greeting at odds with his menacing tone. No actually, now that he looked again, it was just a teenager, maybe high-school age. But the voice… that wasn't the tone of a child.

That dark promise of endless pain was something Hiroshi had only heard from some of the worst sort of 'contractors' he'd had to employ in his rise to the top. To hear it from the lips of a teenager, and one with power like this, was deeply unsettling.

Hiroshi recognized the face, of course. It had been part of far too many briefings lately. He recalled the psychological profiles. Those fumbling attempts to reconcile a body count that would make any serial killer proud with compliance even in the face of experiments that couldn't be called anything short of torturous. And then a seemingly completely out of nothing shift into a moralizing position, completely at odds with his previous interest in achieving power by any means.

But as Hiroshi looked into those eyes and his bowels vibrated in fear he realized that this wasn't a child before him, this was a devil. And the devil grinning at him with eyes red as blood was out for murder.

"You're not a stupid man, Mr. Tanaka. No one could have reached your position while being stupid."

Hiroshi tried to say something, pleading or threatening even he wasn't sure, but his vocal cords remained still while the unnatural being continued to speak.

"That's why I'm sure that you must have some backing on the board of directors for you to dare interfering in this particular matter. Nakimoto? Yutani?…"

His captor proceeded to name more than half the names of the board and Hiroshi, recognizing an interrogation when he saw one, did his best to still any reactions he might show. How successfully he couldn't tell. The esper himself gave nothing away, holding him within his absolute power without any sign of strain.

"But you are clearly not in possession of all relevant information. You see, whatever support you have, it will not be enough. At best it would require some concessions, a few additional legal expenses… and then your ridiculous suit to deny the Sisters' proper legal status and remand them to the creditors' possession as part of the debt settlement will fail."

As he had shifted from interrogation to monologuing, the home invader's tone had become increasingly more intense, some powerful emotion reverberating with his words that made Hiroshi fear for control over his bladder.

"You will never get your hands on them," even at a whisper the statement hit him with all the intensity of a shout, red eyes blazing. "There are eyes on them and interests at play far above your station or mine."

"But I'm not a patient man, Mr. Tanaka. I don't like to wait for the mills of politics and corruption to do their work as I know they will eventually. So I will cut this short."

The devil eyed him as if already measuring for the first cut. And Hiroshi was still unable to so much as make a squeak of terror.

"Stop it with the bullshit red tape. Or I will return and literally hang you with it. And that's if I'm not motivated in particular to really get creative."

The devil grinned and it was a thing of horror. "Think very hard about whether dangling from the highest spire in the Mizuho corporate empire will serve your purposes, Mr. Tanaka."

Hiroshi must have given some indication of assent because there was an utterly disorienting shift and then he was lying on the imported marble next to his swimming pool. And he was heaving his guts out, as if his body suddenly got hit with all the zero g related nausea that hadn't affected him until now.

"Thank you for the pleasant meeting," the devil child said in clear mockery of proper etiquette. Then his voice turned dark. "I'm sure that if we meet again it will be even more fun."

And between one heave and another the first ranked esper was just gone.

It was some time until Tanaka Hiroshi managed to get to his feet again and gather his wits enough to check in with his security team. None of them had noticed anything, or could even explain how he'd gotten from his bed to his observation deck. At this point their complete failure wasn't even a surprise anymore.

There was clearly more to the termination of the Level 6 Shift project, Hiroshi considered over an expensive imported whiskey, than the (clearly ludicrous!) story of that devil getting cold feet at the sight of the experimental setup.

No, the whole thing was clearly part of a big move in the power games of the directors. Someone had gotten to the Accelerator and was using him as the sharp tip of their spear. And whoever it was, they had assembled a crack team to support the nigh-invincible murderer. A teleporter and a security expert, possibly mundane but more likely esper, at the least, judging from the way they had effortlessly defeated his security.

Message received.

He had been stupid to let thoughts of recouping some of the lost investments influence him into getting involved even after the word had come down. He wasn't at the board level yet and if he ever wanted to be, then he'd have to move extremely carefully now. Being the catspaw of a director was profitable only if you got out of it better than you were before.

His patron wasn't the type to take disloyalty lightly, so he'd absolutely need to present the changed situation in the right light. But Tanaka Hiroshi was nothing if not practiced at falling on his feet and lying through his teeth. He would survive, he always did.

And he would definitely have new directives for Legal first thing in the morning. Because part of that was making sure that the devil never ever came for him again.

A crushing weight bore down on me and it was all I could do to hold it up. The heavy machinery all around me creaked and hissed, then the weight let up again.

"This doesn't make any sense."

Tashiro Kenji, sports science postgraduate at Shinasame University and my personal trainer, peered at the readouts on his screen in perplexity. But the data reported by the hundreds of sensors embedded into my workout clothes remained the same, continuing the trend of the last couple of weeks.

"Are you sure you aren't using your power at all?"

I just looked at him and, for a moment, supported my movements with active vector manipulation. Three different alarms popped up on his monitoring station.

"Alright, alright," he conceded quickly, hands raised in a defensive gesture.

"But I still don't understand it," he continued under his breath. "It's not a regular training effect because the increase in muscle mass is far less than proportional to the exerted strength. It's not a matter of your uncanny body control because we corrected for that."

I smirked at the side look Kenji shot at me, disturbed and envious in equal measure. The internal applications of my power went far beyond merely optimizing blood flow and oxygen supply.

With my internal vector perception I could achieve a kinesthetic awareness of my body beyond anything a normal person would ever have. I could see where the movement and force vectors of muscles, tendons, bones and joints were imperfectly aligned, leading to loss of efficiency and potential damage. I could model the biophysics involved in every movement, from walking to martial arts techniques, and optimize them.

And with vector kinesthesia as a constant feedback I could train those mathematical solutions into my subconscious 'muscle memory' and might, in time, even achieve a degree of body control that would make a Bene Gesserit proud.

It wasn't a high priority since active internal vector control was more potent by orders of magnitude. But the more I could do without consuming processing capacity - and any internal biological manipulation was extremely intensive in that regard - the more capacity I'd have available for active use.

"And it's not a Broken Limiter effect either," Kenji continued unaware of my musing, "because we haven't done any breaking point exercises and there are none of the usual signs. Besides, you're an esper, so that sort of training is strictly contraindicated. With a Broken Limiter you'd probably spontaneously combust or something."

Even with all that perception brought to bear, I still didn't have a good scientific explanation myself for the frankly implausible trajectory of my all-around physical capabilities in the last weeks. Everything was working exactly like I thought it should, but the results were significantly beyond the plausible. And what Academy City science thought was plausible was already pretty extreme going by my other memories.

All I had was a hunch.

Both the Accelerator of the past and the me from the other memories had considered their bodies more of a vestigial remnant attached to their minds. So keeping up my motivation for physical training in the long term had been rather difficult. After trying a few other things, I had turned to moving meditation and autohypnosis to bridge the gap and it had helped.

There was no unambiguous correlation to the effects that mystified Kenji but it was the only thing that had changed apart from the actual training.

But, if I was somehow unconsciously tapping into what, unlimited human potential? Shonen tropes? The platonic ideal of athletics? Then that had to be some sort of magic. Which I knew existed, so those stories of martial arts masters achieving 'supernatural' feats probably weren't all that far-fetched in this world. But it shouldn't be possible. As an esper there would be side effects.

Like Kenji had said, I'd probably explode.

So more likely it was an esper thing rather than a magic thing. Both techniques were also part of the regular ability development curriculum after all, if you looked past the different terminology employed. And come to think of it, both Mikoto and Meltdowner were abnormally strong and resilient for their physical build, weren't they?

Were there examples below Level 5, too? Espers whose powers were not directly related to body enhancement but who still showed abnormal abilities in that field? Or was it an effect that only became significant enough to measure at the highest levels of esper power?

I would have to do more research.

I closed the inconspicuous gray plastic case, hiding the decidedly non-standard clockwork mechanism inside, and proceeded to make sure the signal laser was properly aligned. Working around a technopath opponent, especially one who might as well be Level 5 with all the augmentations those Machine Cult guys had, was seriously annoying.

It was clockwork and low bandwidth symbolic signals that I was reduced to, since I wasn't sure at what point a mechanism crossed the line into something the cult leader could affect. Was it just electronics or was it any information processing system close enough to 'machinery' rather than 'life' that would count? And if so, was it a matter of substrate, mechanism or information content or density?

That line of thinking had led me into some serious Rube Goldberg stuff as well as things like having the sensor packages assembled automatically and without watching the process. Planning around psychometry was also a pain, but smart as those crazy fuckers were they would surely try to get their hands on a good clairvoyant.

And I wasn't content to just sit and wait for their next try. Hence this new attempt at sniffing them out. It had taken far too long, but I had finally managed to finagle a crystal structure that would change if exposed to the form of spatial distortion the cult's teleporter was using.

Ironically I wasn't sure if it was regular science or some sort of psychic fuckery. Because the only way these things were possible for me to create was by using my power at its best resolution to manipulate diffusion gradients almost to the point of moving individual molecules and induce a mind bogglingly complex set of oscillations until it felt just right.

I had arrived at the process mostly by giving myself fully to ~~the madness place~~my extranormal intuition and working backwards toward the territory of known science was laborious to say the least. My leading theories were some sort of complex emergent order induced at the sub-atomic femto-scale in response to my power manipulation. Or alternatively that I just pushed my personal reality on it so strongly that the resulting material continued to work by my rules rather than regular physics.

Dark Matter did something like that, so it was possible. If that was the underlying principle, wouldn't that just set him to screaming?

Either way, since there was no way I could ~~win the scientific accolades due to my genius~~publish anything until I was done, it didn't matter for the moment. The important thing was that I could set up another variety of sensors that might be able to detect cult activities.

And if I did and got a solid lead on one of their higher-ups, well, I wouldn't screw around with half measures.

"I win!" Mikoto crowed triumphantly.

"You win," I conceded graciously.

With the stipulation that any damage to the active skyscraper construction site would be a loss condition, she had won the power-aided extreme parkour duel fair and square.

Damn, she was fast. And mobile. With all the load-bearing elements of the construction incorporating large amounts of ferromagnetic materials she could walk on walls as easily as on level ground and slingshot herself forward or around corners at high speeds. At full exertion she even surprised me with full flight, 6 degrees of freedom and all.

More importantly, she had been practicing her mobility techniques with an eye to avoiding damages from the beginning. Something I had rarely seen any point in.

In a straight line I could easily accelerate faster than her. If I didn't care about damage to the surroundings, it was no contest at all.

But constrained like this, together with her 360 electromagnetic awareness field of hers that I had yet to find a counter for, the advantage had been hers. And thus she'd won this challenge, any similarities of which to what children might call esper tag were completely coincidental.

"So, what do I get?" There's a mischievousness there in Mikoto's eyes now in addition to the well-earned triumph.

I laughed. "Are we playing for stakes now? I'm game if you are… "

A bit later we were sitting together on the highest I-beam with a refreshing cold drink and enjoying the light breeze. Neither of us were much concerned with heights, given our abilities, and the view over the city was fantastic.

"You'd be welcome to the title, you know," I mused, "if you could convince the scientists. Being the #1 has brought me little but hassle. Endless processions of challengers. Years of painful experiments. And a ton of attention from some really fucked up people. It's been a real pain in the ass."

I sighed, resisting the urge to throw something. "I'm not particularly social by inclination. But when everyone either fears you, sees you as a stepping stone towards their own greatness, or wants to cut you open to see what makes you special… "

"It's been kind of lonely," Mikoto agreed, putting into words what I had resisted naming. "Advancing through the levels as fast as I did, I had no small amount of envy aimed my way myself."

"I was 'strongly encouraged' to transfer to a higher ranked school where I didn't know anybody," Mikoto frowned at the memory, "and then I left all my new classmates behind again to join Tokiwadai."

"Don't get me wrong," she moderated herself. "Tokiwadai is a great school. But… It's a very different place from what I was used to. All clique politics and people smiling in your face while they think about how they can best take advantage or saw at your chair. Sometimes I think I'm the only normal person there."

She breathed out sharply, expressing her frustration. "It didn't help that Mental Out was there first and that she hated me at first sight. The cow just looked at me as if she'd seen a ghost and then completely refused to even acknowledge my existence. And as a faction leader already grasping for the top spot, when she cut me that had a certain weight."

"That had to suck," I commiserated. "Being undefeatable doesn't mean people can't make your life hell."

I knew that very well. My own memories of being 'the outsider' at school were more distant and somewhat overshadowed by the escalation into a mass casualty event that they culminated in. But it had been deeply unpleasant. That was when elementary school Accelerator had begun to reject trying to be sociable in the first place. And of course there had been plenty of other incidents in the years since.

"It wasn't fun," Mikoto confessed in clear understatement. "But strangely enough it got better after I blasted two of the worst of them. I mean, they called me a violent maniac when they thought I couldn't hear, but they still respected me more."

"Some people listen to reason only when it's expressed as reality-bending mathematics. But who knew that Tokiwadai worked by prison rules," I pondered. "Does that make you one of the gang leaders then?"

Mikoto scoffed, crossing her arms in a gesture of emphatic denial, though I could see the corners of her mouth twitch a little at the way I put it.

"No, I don't want any part of that bullshit. But I've still found a niche for myself, of sorts. Proper respect for the abilities I've worked so hard to gain, though that 'Ace of Tokiwadai' title makes me cringe. Some friendly acquaintances."

"And Mental Out… " Mikoto groaned. "Actually, given her twisted personality and those annoying mind games of hers, it would be more peaceful if that oversized shrew was still ghosting me."

"But," she perked up again after a moment, "my new roommate may have a bit of a problem with impulse control, but she's a good person and a good friend."

Mikoto gave me a teasing side-look. "Kuroko probably wouldn't approve of you though, Mr. Delinquent. Or worse, your bad influence on me. Why, just look at me, you've turned me into a proper delinquent already."

I laughed out loud. It was true, from a certain perspective. While that combination of t-shirt, ripped jeans shorts and a baseball cap looked good on her, they certainly weren't a proper Tokiwadai uniform. Add to that illegal presence on a construction site, subversion of electronic surveillance and security systems, use of potentially dangerous powers in public, loitering in inappropriate places,…

"Yessss," I hissed dramatically after I could stop laughing. "Having fun is all part of my insssidious plan to corrupt you to the dark side. Soon, soon you will be ready. And we will rule this city as master and apprentice."

Star Wars as a franchise did apparently exist in this universe, I had found. The six sequels had gone in a very different direction here though, and were generally considered superior to the prequels at the least. The last one had come out only the year before last and was still hotly debated in relation to the original trilogy.

"Oi," Mikoto complained. "Apprentice? Don't underestimate me! If anything I will be the Dark Empress."

"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow. "You'd rather be my empress then?"

She blushed and hastily forged on: "I'll be the empress and you the beastly leader of my legions of doom, the nightmare of all who oppose me! Don't you think that's more your speed than imperial politics? Know your place, peasant."

She was clearly imitating someone's haughty tone in particular, though I didn't recognize the particular reference.

"Actually," I rejoined amusedly, "that doesn't sound too bad either. I'll take it… if you can make me submit. You know what you have to do to prove your mastery."

Mikoto raised her hand and twisted her face into a grimace. "Unlimited power!"

My vector control field dispersed the lightning of her sudden yet inevitable betrayal, of course, but we both had a good laugh over that.

I didn't keep track of how long we sat there talking and joking.

Eventually Mikoto's phone chimed and she sighed. "What is it now, Kuroko…" Then she jumped up in electrified alarm. "Oh shit, curfew! Ten minutes? I'll never make it."

Rising as well I stretched. It was late, sure, but still quite a ways from dark. But from what she had told me, the dormitories were rather strict.

"I can get you there in time," I offered, struck by an idea. "If you're willing to use your marker on that?"

Mikoto looked at me dubiously. "Really? It's half an hour just for the train ride."

But I just looked at her. Girl, don't you know who I am?

"Alright, fine," she gave in, looking pained. "Do it. How though? Do you have a helicopter on call or something…"

No doubt she had been looking forward to holding that victory over me for quite some time. But the thought of her draconian dorm overseer clearly overrode other concerns.

"Simple enough. We're going by air." I squatted down slightly and pointed to my back. "Hop on."

"Seriously?" Mikoto seemed at war with herself for a moment, but then her phone beeped again and she resolved herself.

By now I had a regrettable degree of experience in giving piggy-back rides, though it hit quite differently when it wasn't one of the childish Sisters.

Vector field manipulation: Recalculate thrust vectors and envelope for altered aerodynamic profile and mass distribution. Processing. Done.

I had the preliminary work already done, because I'd figured it was only a matter of time until Misaka 32 or one of the others asked. I hadn't anticipated it being Mikoto herself.

Reshaping my barrier to make this work took several seconds, since the resulting vulnerability was something inherently opposed to its nature. But that was the only way to make sure this was safe.

"Alright," I said to Mikoto once everything was in place, "hold on and please take care not to shock me. For this to be safe I have to extend my barrier around you. If you light me up like this I'll die for real."

Well, that was a bit of an exaggeration. If I reacted quickly enough my internal vector control could mitigate quite a bit. Probably.

"Mmh," Mikoto hummed in assent, her breath tickling my ear.

I took two quick steps forward, then dove off the steel girder in a leap into the open air and hurled the two of us through the sky.

Eight minutes, less three to four reserved to get inside and into her room. 16.4 kilometers as the crow flew. Trivial.

Vector field manipulation: Engage ramjet mode.

"Eeeeeeeeeeee!" Mikoto held on for dear life while screaming in my ear.

"Sorry to drop in on you so late."

Despite having met a large number of Sisters and gotten to know several of them through various events, Misaka 1 was the one I knew best and whom I defaulted to as my primary contact.

"'I don't mind at all,' says Misaka happily, while wondering what has Accelerator smiling even though he sounded so serious on the phone."

It had been a very good day. But that was kind of the problem.

Despite the late hour, the cafeteria on the 8th floor of the Kanasaki University Muscular Dystrophy Research Institution building was still quite busy. Groups of Sisters were eating meals or engaged in board games at many of the tables. There was the clatter of cutlery and dice, but unlike with a more normal crowd there was very little talking. The Sisters had their network after all.

"'Adjusting to different time zones is part of our preparations for deployment,' Misaka explains, having noticed your questioning look."

A decision had come down a couple of weeks ago and a plan developed and implemented with a speed that made me suspect this had been a long-planned contingency. The Sisters were to be distributed to cooperation partners and research institutes around the world. There they would assist in security matters and participate in various kinds of research.

I'd gone through the list with a finely toothed comb, of course, but nothing had sprung out as suspicious. And it wasn't like any of the Sisters could be held incommunicado without the others noticing immediately. So there probably wasn't any too shady stuff involved. Yet.

"You're getting better with non-verbal communication," I commented.

There was a slight drawing up at the corners of 1's mouth in response. She'd been trying to learn to emote more in the ways non-networked humans did, but it was still a work in progress.

We talked a bit more about the different assignments the Sisters would have out in the world. Soon they would go from knowing only narrow confines of the various Level 6 Shift laboratories and the brief snatches of the Academy City experience when they could get a pass to seeing more of the world than I ever had.

So many places all over the globe, so many interesting things to do, and with their network they would share it all. I was a bit envious to be honest. But they absolutely deserved this. Maybe it could even be considered a bit of compensation for the cruel way they had come into the world.

"I saw Mikoto again today," I finally returned to the reason for my visit.

"Nobody has told her about all this yet, have they?" I gestured to encompass the cafeteria and by extension the whole Radio Noise and Level 6 Shift mess. "I thought maybe the Heaven Canceller would even if the auditors wouldn't…"

Misaka 1 just shook her head.

"Tch. What a bunch of ass-covering bureaucrats. It's not my fucking job to clean up after them."

1 tilted her head slightly. "'But you still think you should do it,' inquires Misaka, suspecting that Big Sis would prefer Accelerator's way of 'cleaning up' to that of a law firm engaged by Higuchi Pharmaceuticals."

"Maybe? It wasn't any obligation of mine, at first, to be the bearer of weird as hell news," I tried to put what bothered me into words.

The metal of the table twisted under my absent-minded fingers. "Except… I got to know her. And now I feel like I would be lying to her by not telling her, you know?"

"'I understand,' says Misaka while nodding in agreement. 'Keeping secrets from your friends can damage trust and the whole relationship', recites Misaka, repeating what she has learned from a psychology textbook."

She paused briefly. "'And,' Misaka continues with a mischievous air, trying to tease Accelerator, 'that goes double for romantic attachments.'"

"Anyway," I coughed, pretending that I hadn't heard that, though I don't think I was entirely successful. "It's your lives. So I wanted to ask before I went and said something. And do you want to introduce yourselves?"

Misaka 1 considered that in silence for a moment. I could feel the synchronized hum of their IPD diffusion fields as the Radio Noise network traffic spiked.

"'It's alright,' says Misaka, as she nods to show her assent through what is called body language. 'And it would be nice to be able to meet our big sister.'"

"She might not react well at first," I warned. "It might be some time until she warms up to you."

"'Even so,' says Misaka, as she firms up her own resolve in response to the network's majority opinion. 'We want to meet Big Sis. I'll do it.'"

"Alright. I'll call you once I hear back."

That would not be a fun conversation. So much potential for awkwardness and grief. Give me a life or death battle instead, any time.

Then we both jumped up as one as a screeching hum cut through the entire cafeteria. The sight a couple of tables away nearly gave me a heart attack. Damn it. The disruption field mode of the electro-batons I'd made for them was for extreme cases of self-defense. Not for swordfighting atop the cafeteria tables while making lightsaber noises.

Hope the unlabeled pov change wasn't too confusing. Should I mark it as such? It was a bit of a last minute addition as the idea hit me while riding the train this morning and, as my process goes for this story, I figured 'sounds cool, let's do it and worry about everything else later'. And if you're wondering how not-insane Accelerator comes across this way, well, he has been working a bit on those audio-based hacks he learned way back.

Also, looking back on the full chapter I guess I kind of had Star Wars on my mind for some reason? Eh, let's say that Accelerator recently watched his new universes versions of the movies, possibly with the network leeching through the eyes of a few representatives, so that's part of his in-character thought process.

Anyway, the reveal of the Sisters was pushed to next chapter. Might take me a bit to get through that, difficult conversations are not my forté.

Last edited: Jun 18, 2023

One-Way Road - Accelerator SI vs. the Toaru-verse Black Phoenix - A Harry Potter OC SI via Waifu Catalogue

The Pendragon Contingency - Warhammer 40K SI as DAoT!Arthur Pendragon Cosmic's dreams of distant worlds - Snippet archive

One-Way Road 11 - Sisters

At half past four I was sitting on a bench near one of the entrances to Nature Park in District 21, enjoying an iced coffee and the cool breeze my vector control maintained to banish the early summer heat.

A thump behind me prompted me to lean back even further in my slouch to look behind me. There, upside down in my view, Misaka Mikoto stomped through the grass from where she had jumped over a two and a half meter wall, probably to avoid a detour.

For some reason she looked like she had sprinted most of the way instead of taking the train.

"Sorry I'm late," she gasped out between trying to catch her breath. "Kuroko got some kind of ludicrous idea in her head. And wouldn't stop shadowing me. I had to lose her. And she's a Level 4 teleporter, so…"

"Sounds like a pain," I expressed my sympathy. "Especially in this heat."

I offered her a can of the strawberry-maracuja I knew she liked, still cool thanks to thermal transfer vector manipulation. The wind picked up as well as I expanded the area of my artificial breeze.

"She really can be. But she means well." Mikoto accepted the can and leaned into the wind with obvious relish, eyes closed. "AC on demand? That power really is unfair."

"The best kind," I chuckled.

"You just wait, I'll figure something out as well," Mikoto pointed a finger at me in challenge. Oh dear, I had triggered her competitive streak again.

"Turning a wind turbine into your personal fan isn't enough? Mmh, there was such a thing as magnetocaloric effect, wasn't there…"

That was a thought for another time, though.

"So…" Mikoto eyed me with a strange sort of expression. "You were less than clear in your message."

In retrospect 'we need to talk' possibly hadn't been the best way to put it via IM. I acknowledged the mild rebuke with an apologetic grimace.

"Come, I need to show you something."

Surrounded by our private breeze we walked deeper into the park. There was really no way to completely avoid surveillance. Even taking out all cameras and microphones within a radius, including cellphones and other consumer electronics, there would still be satellites and other long-range options.

Overhead among and above the branches of the trees three invisible counter-surveillance drones soared on silent graviton panels. They were reverse engineered from a military surveillance drone that I had, by chance, found spying on one of our early sparring matches and loaded up with some significant additional ECM and 'proactive defense' features.

I was under no illusion that this was anywhere near enough to avoid the eyes of the directors. For one, neither of us really had countermeasures to clairvoyants. But there was no reason to make it easy on anyone who might spy on two of the top-ranked espers in Academy City.

"Hey, you have parents, right? Do you have siblings, too?" I tried for a casual 'just making conversation' tone, but I never was good at smalltalk so I probably didn't succeed.

"No, it's just me." If Mikoto was puzzled at the strange question she didn't let it show. My own distinct lack of parental figures wasn't news to her.

"What would you do if you found out you had siblings you hadn't known about? A sister? Twins maybe?"

She huffed. "Then I guess mama would have some very pointed questions for papa." Blowing a strain of hair aside she gave me a look. "What, did you find out you have siblings after all?"

"With the way the SAI buried my records, who knows… but no, I don't think so." After a moment I continued: "You wouldn't blame your hypothetical sisters for whatever circumstances led to their birth, though. Would you?"

"No!" Mikoto was indignant. "Of course not. It wouldn't be their fault."

"Exactly. If anything they'd be the victims of circumstance…"

We reached the park bench in the shadow of a large tree that I'd scouted out earlier as a good spot.

Vector field control: Outbound sound dampening. Increase visual distortion effect of hot/cool air terminus. IPD diffusion field detection (exclude: Misaka Mikoto).

"Here should be ok." I turned to her. "Sorry about the cloak and dagger stuff, but, well, you'll see."

I reached into my bag and brought out a tablet with the annotated Radio Noise and Level 6 Shift documents already loaded. "I hate to be the bearer of weird as hell news. And there is no easy way of saying this but you have a right to know, so… Here."

Mikoto, already somewhat unsettled since she seemed to have picked up on my unease and the strange direction of my questions, took the tablet and swiped through the first couple of pages. Her reading speed, as befit a Level 5 that could outdo top of the line quantum computers, was impressive.

"What the hell is this stuff? This is a joke, right?" Looking up from the screen she seemed rightly disturbed, vacillating between anger and denial. "Right?"

"I wish it was," I shook my head sadly, trying to express my sympathy as best I could. But being reassuring and the like was not my forté.

Mikoto swiftly burned through another couple dozen pages.

"Human cloning? Human clones for lethal experiments? That's insane," she exclaimed in protest. "No ethics committee would ever sign off on that!"

"No ethics committee should ever sign off on that, true," I agreed grimly. "And all research that touches on certain matters should be brought before a committee. That's the ideal."

"But… There is a dark side to this city' dedication to the advancement of human understanding: The notion that pushing forward the boundaries of our understanding is worth any price, that success redeems any cost in pain, suffering or death."

I paused for a moment. "That, since all students in the ability development program are ultimately experimental subjects, it's entirely legitimate to treat them the same as the meanest lab rat."

Although, according to my other memory, a normal ethics committee would cry absolute havoc at the idea of doing some of these things even just to rats.

"I don't know how pervasive exactly that attitude is among the city's researchers," I continued. "But there are enough of them and, as long as they get results, enough approval from above for something like this. You won't find their names in there in the open, but I guarantee you that at least one member of the board of directors was aware of it and gave their sanction."

Mikoto scowled thunderously. That had to be a bitter pill to swallow for someone who had only seen the bright and shiny parts of Academy City until now. It was a measure of her trust in me, I thought, that she didn't protest further.

Although, to someone as smart as her, once she got past the reflexive 'that couldn't be true', there was probably a lot of little stuff that suddenly made a great deal of unfortunate sense in retrospect.

"And they… they tried to clone me? 'Railgun mass production plan', as if I was just another kind of gun for them to build in factories?"

"That's… that's…" Words failed her. Sparks of uncontrolled electricity flew out from her hair and the dust at her feet rearranged itself in a display of ever-changing magnetic field lines.

"A horrible violation of your biological rights," I offered.

"Yes, that!"

"Complete disregarding you as a unique individual, rather than a bearer of a useful ability?"

"Yes," she ground out through clenched teeth. "If someone insulted me like this to my face, why, I could just…"

Mikoto made a gesture with both hands as if to wring someone's neck. Rapidly arcing electricity surrounded her like an aura of power. When it was just the two of us she was a lot less restrained with her ability than with others, I'd found.

"Fair," I nodded. "Not that anything those assholes did could diminish you in the eyes of the people who really matter. You know, you yourself, your parents, Kuroko, your other friends and I. You are the one and only Misaka Mikoto, and no number of artificial twin sisters can change that."

Despite everything Mikoto gave a brief twitch of a smile at my encouragement.

"And," I reminded her, "keep in mind it's not their fault for being created. The circumstances of their birth are terrible, but that's something that was done to them as much as it was to you."

Maybe more so, but this was not the time to weigh miseries against one another. Mikoto needed someone to be there for her right now.

"I guess…" She admitted with some difficulty. "It would be sort of like having a lot of twin sisters. Other people live like that every day. Does it make me a bad person for the idea to make me feel so terrible? For me to wish that it wasn't true?"

"You're not a bad person, Mikoto. You're just overwhelmed by how sudden all of this is. And, well, it is a bit more extreme than regular twins or even quintuplets."

"Extreme, yes… unbelievable is what I should say. Tens of thousands of mass produced clones, who the hell even gets ideas like that?"

That was a rhetorical question, I was pretty sure, but I still answered it. "People who think it's ok to treat humans as disposable lab rats."

"I was trying not to think about that," Mikoto admitted. "The cloning is one thing. But to be created only to die in such an utterly senseless way, it's a complete nightmare. They were really going to make you do… that?"

She looked at me as if begging me to say no. That no such project existed. That people were not so cruel. That they hadn't believed me entirely capable of that sort of thing. That I hadn't, at some point, agreed to it.

"Yes," I said heavily and uncomfortably continued to explain: "They had sent one of their professional liars. You know the type. He told me that they had something that would solve all my problems. Called them 'biological robots' and 'drones' and 'units' and such. And like an idiot I believed them - at first, anyway."

Mikoto looked away, chagrin and guilt marring her expression. "Then… it's my fault as well, isn't it? None of it would have happened in the first place if I hadn't given them my DNA map."

"There was no way any seven year old in the world wouldn't have done exactly what their psy-ops guys wanted," I tried to reassure her. "For me it was last year. I was capable of critical thinking and I knew that adults lied all the time and they still got one over me. That's why I was an idiot and you were an innocent victim."

Mikoto didn't look entirely convinced but didn't contradict me either.

"But anyway, I found that things didn't add up," I summarized quickly. "So I investigated further. I snuck into their facility and met the first of the girls they were going to make me go up against."

Mikoto hit upon the photograph of Misaka 1 ready for the experiment, standing in a bare concrete box with a handgun in her hands, and stopped. That close up of her face was just as heartbreaking as I remembered from the actual day itself. I had to look away.

"They were not born the usual way, but it didn't make her or any of them less human." For some reason something was wrong with my voice, but I cleared my throat and continued. "They live, they feel, they think just like you or me."

Out of the corner of my eyes I could see Mikoto touching the image with one finger, looking as if in a daze.

"They are good girls," I recounted with feeling. "Kind and curious and caring, if maybe a bit quirky. Smart and thoughtful despite their strange upbringing,…"

I paused briefly to clear my throat again and then my tone turned dark as I recalled that air of excitement on the observation deck: "But those absolute bastards, they had the scenarios for their deaths all worked out. Environment, weaponry, number of… of victims. Everything was meticulously planned."

Mikoto had been looking increasingly pale and disturbed but now the tablet fell from her fingers and she hid her face behind her hands. The way she was shaking, was she crying? I could hardly imagine the strong young woman I had gotten to know crying. But then, like a total asshole I had just dropped everything on her all at once, hadn't I?

There were no sparks, no electricity. Just an invisible, inaudible electromagnetic howl rising and rising into an inferno. One of my drones dropped out of the sky unheeded, completely fried.

For a moment I just stood there awkwardly. How the fuck was I supposed to deal with this? I'd never been any good with this sort of thing. What would a well-adjusted person do in such a situation?

Cheeks burning I stepped closer and clumsily reached out to put my arms around Mikoto. I was fully prepared for her to blast me, be it for overstepping or for my role in things back then. But after a moment she leaned into me and held on to me with all her strength through the storm of emotions I could vaguely feel in her raging power expression fields.

"It's alright," I said quietly after a minute. "I put a stop to it all." For good, I hoped.

Mikoto made a small noise that might have been approval.

"Are you angry," I asked softly, "or…"

"Angry! Definitely angry," she cried, the forcefulness somewhat undermined by her body language.

"I still have the names of all those assholes," I offered after a beat. "If it's you and me, there's no one that could stop us. And no way we'd ever see the inside of a courtroom."

"Mmh-mmh." She seemed to think about that for a minute, but then shook her head decisively. "No. They should be in prison or something. Not that… we're better than that."

Speak for yourself, Mikoto. But I liked that about her. She was a good person through and through and thought the best of people. At our level that was damn-near unique in this fucking city.

"I don't think prison is in the cards. But I did my best to scare them straight. Many of them still have nightmares, or so I'm told."

"Good," Mikoto said vindictively. "They really should."

Hopefully she wouldn't ask for further details. Apart from that one guy when I had lost it, I had been relatively restrained and surgical with the handful of recidivists that hadn't gotten the message after the first time. Relatively.

After a while we separated.

"We will never speak of this. Ever." Mikoto said forcefully, looking away and wiping at her eyes.

"If you say so," I acquiesced, my voice rough. Pointedly looking away myself I cleared my throat again and surreptitiously vectored away a bit of excess moisture from the corners of my eyes. Damn pollen flying everywhere.

"Anyway," I continued before the atmosphere could grow too awkward. "I can introduce you if you want. Or maybe some other time. This has been enough heavy shit for one day, so…"

"No," Mikoto interrupted me assertively. "We do this now."

"[Yes, sir!]" I briefly switched to English and mimed a salute. If she was taking charge like this then she probably was feeling a bit better. "They are looking forward to meeting their Big Sis."

As we arrived Misaka 1 stood up from the bench overlooking the playground where she had been sitting and put away her book. I wondered for a moment if she had deliberately chosen a bag similar to mine to carry with her.

The plan had been for Misaka 1 to be here as a representative of sorts while a couple of the others were "securing the area". But what this boiled down to was apparently that that 13 had turned the highest point of the wooden jungle gym into a sniper nest while the others had laid claim to the playground and were doing whatever.

On the swings, with the kind of energy that could only come from a sugar rush, was 32. Circling around the playground was 69 who was trying to chase down 55 but never managed to catch up the fitness nut among the group. There was 78 with her headphones on her head, balancing on the high beams and trying the occasional dance move.

And in the background there was 16 who had laid claim to the slide but seemed to be using it more as a resting place. Lounging in recline at the lower end of the slide, her eyes closed and a little smile on her face, she was completely off in her own contemplative universe.

Mikoto had frozen upon seeing the tableau before her, her eyes darting back and forth. But with a gentle supportive touch to her shoulder she took a deep breath and continued forward.

With the two of them facing each other it was fascinating to see the similarities between Mikoto and the Sisters, but also the slight differences. Her slightly longer hair in a ponytail in Misaka 1's case, along with the lack of maybe a centimeter or so in height among the most obvious.

Both girls were looking one another over with an intensity that would, no doubt, be considered rude in a different situation. But here, well, it was what it was.

"Misaka 1, this is Misaka Mikoto, also known as the Railgun, the #3 ranked esper of Academy City," I formally introduced them before the air could get strained. "Misaka Mikoto, this is Misaka 1, she's the oldest of the Sisters by about a day and the most responsible."

"'By 26 hours and 43 minutes,' Misaka confirms, making particular note of her seniority."

Her tone and expression gave little away, but I was able to tell she was nervous by the way she fell back into that overly precise way of expressing herself along with the fluctuations of her IPD diffusion field.

"'It's a pleasure to meet our big sister,' greets Misaka, hoping that our existence did not come as too much of a shock to you."

"No, I mean, yes. It was a shock, but…" Mikoto floundered, stricken by the reality before her despite having prepared herself. "It is good to meet you, despite the circumstances," she finally caught herself.

With greetings out of the way the silence had just begun to stretch awkwardly when 32 broke in with the save.

"'Onii-chan, push me,' Misaka shouts, demanding Accelerator pay attention to her."

Waving from where she was sitting on the swing she clearly had no compunctions about interrupting our serious business with her demands. Or she was intentionally injecting a bit of levity into the situation. Even if she liked acting out, she was still one of the Sisters after all, with all the smarts that entailed.

"I'll just go over there and let you two talk." No, I was absolutely not fleeing the scene because I had already overdrawn my social awkwardness quota for today, thank you very much.

"Is that what they're calling you…?" Mikoto was making a strange expression for some reason.

"No, that's just Misaka 32," I explained before lowering my voice: "She's the brat of this bunch. She has learned from anime that calling people 'onii-chan' helps getting them to do what she wants."

"It… has actually worked more often than not, I'm sad to say," I admitted before going to add another occasion to the tally.

Pushing 32 on the swings was just the beginning of course. Next 55 and 69 wanted to go as well, solving their disagreement by both taking the other swing together. 78 wanted to share a new favorite song she had found. And then 32 was back, asking for candy this time.

It was chaos, as usual. But after the difficult and emotionally charged conversation from before the simplicity of it was soothing.

From what I could see in brief side-glances to where Mikoto and 1 were talking they seemed to be getting along, too.

Good. That was one big weight off my chest.

"I'm still not sure what to think," Mikoto admitted to me as we were walking back towards the train station. "They seemed nice. But it's still so strange to see them look so much like me. To feel their powers so similar to mine. And to think, there are twenty thousand more of them. I just can't fit it into my head."

"It's still new, you only learned about it today," I advised her. "Give it time. Get to know a few of them. You're already dealing with it much better than I'd expect from anyone else."

If things went from awkward to strained or worse between Mikoto and the Sisters, I didn't know what I would do. I really wanted them to get along.

"I suppose. If I'm their older sister, then I should…" Mikoto trailed off as if unsure where she was going with this.

"Don't force yourself. Allow yourself time to process," I counseled, "then, if and when you feel up to it, you can just give them a call. Or me. I'll gladly come along. This group is among those who are going to stay in Academy City, so today was a good start."

I really, really wanted them to get along.

We walked in silence for a minute.

"I didn't think of this earlier," Mikoto then started, "but you've known about the Sisters for a long time, haven't you? The experiment was set to start in January, as I recall."

Her tone was deceptively light, but I got the feeling that she wasn't happy. I'd expected I'd get grief for this but it really wasn't a good feeling to have her genuinely unhappy with me.

"… yes," I admitted.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" The disappointment in Mikoto's tone cut deeper than the anger. "We've known each other for weeks."

"For one," I started awkwardly, "this is some really weird stuff. Top secret, too. And, you know, it wasn't my job to clean up those guys' mess back then."

Going by her countenance that didn't really help things. Nonetheless I forged onward. "I mean, if it's a friend of yours, then you owe it to them to tell them things like this."

"Yeeeeeeees?" Mikoto's increasingly thunderous expression makes it clear that I'm just digging my hole deeper. If you understand that much, then why were you still keeping secrets, the crackling static seemed to say.

Damn, I was making a hash of things. I thought I was done with uncomfortable conversations for today. Nonetheless I continued trying to explain myself.

"So, after yesterday… I mean, I haven't had many friends in my life, so I wasn't sure how to tell if…" My cheeks burned and I was probably less than completely incoherent. "But now, well, here we are."

Mikoto took a deep breath as if to begin lambasting me, but then she just sighed as if she couldn't believe what kind of idiot she was talking to. "We've been friends longer than that, dummy."

There was a dusting of red to her cheeks to match my own embarrassment. But her anger had passed, it seemed.

"You're a jerk sometimes. And crazy for sure. But… I'm glad I met you, Accelerator."

As expected, that was a very difficult scene for me to write. I'm not entirely happy with it either. A good writer would give it a few more editing passes. A great writer would probably rewrite it from scratch a couple of times until it was just right. But I would just end up getting stuck until I lost all motivation. So, hitting the post button before I can think better of it.

One-Way Road - Accelerator SI vs. the Toaru-verse Black Phoenix - A Harry Potter OC SI via Waifu Catalogue

The Pendragon Contingency - Warhammer 40K SI as DAoT!Arthur Pendragon Cosmic's dreams of distant worlds - Snippet archive

One-Way Road 11.R

In preparation for writing the reveal scene I tried to explore Mikoto's perspective a bit. So it's a bit rough, jumpy and stream of consciousness. But I figured I might as well post it.

A Certain Electromaster's Hypothetical Diary

When I first met him, he was just another guy. He was a year or two older than me, probably in high school, but I didn't recognize him. Bleached hair, so probably a delinquent. But still a clear cut above the rabble since he actually stepped up when he saw a girl getting harassed.

He clearly recognized me, but still dared to tease me. It was infuriating, if a bit flattering, too.

But then he showed himself unaffected by my *cough* justified punishment. And what's more, he showed off with some electricity manipulation of his own.

He challenged me! I had to respond to that. No one but me was allowed to claim the title of strongest Electromaster. So I let him have it.

And he still pretended to defend himself without effort as I ramped up. His return was weak at best, so I figured he was probably a defensive focused Level 4. Or maybe a body-focused esper like that cow's drill-haired sycophant.

Either way, I brought out the big voltage, all the way up to where I was melting holes into the ground. And still he persisted!

So I did what no other Electromaster could have done and tried to fry him with my Judgment of Heaven. While probably deadly to anyone else, to a Level 4 Electromaster, no matter what kind, that would at worst hurt like hell. Maaaybe a brief stay in the hospital. So I figured it was fine.

But instead of admitting his pathetic defeat as he was supposed to do, he did something else. Something even I wasn't sure I could have pulled off without preparation. Ridiculous plasma state shenanigans, not one current out of place, and even the sonic output accounted for.

Turned out, the guy was the #1, the freaking Accelerator. Talk about punching an iron board, as papa would say.

People whispered blood-soaked rumors and unbelievable urban legends about the #1, but he was actually pretty nice.

He seemed a bit lonely, I thought.

Maybe I should have considered his offer of a rematch more thoroughly, but I absolutely wanted to prove to him that I wasn't some one-trick pony of an Electromaster like the #4.

And it had been nice to let loose for once. Go all-out. And be complimented for it rather than scolded. He had clearly been impressed by my ability, for all the nothing it had done to him. And as the #1 he would be the one to know, if anyone.

So we met up a couple of times to spar a bit more. Well, I say sparring but we absolutely wrecked a couple of military test ranges.

Holy shit, the things we did! I had never dared to let loose like that before and really see what I could do.

Turned out not even battle tanks and fighter plane missiles did as much as my full bore railgun.

My iron sand manipulation could strip down entire houses to nothing in less than a minute.

And we didn't stop there.

Nothing I tried did anything to Accelerator, which smarted quite a bit actually. But he never made a big deal out of it, never made it humiliating.

Instead he was weirdly supportive, constantly suggesting new things to try and pushing me in new ways.

He gave me those ear plugs and glasses for better protection so I could go further without worrying about injuring myself. Brought a freaking miniature particle accelerator one time to try out ideas. Stuff like that.

He was learning from me as well, naturally. He was quite open about that.

And when I finally managed to get a win over him, he wasn't salty about it.

I had been right from the beginning, he was lonely. Being the #1 seemed to be quite the burden, making him the target of all kinds of weirdos.

I didn't quite know if I should believe him about having forgotten his original name because no one had called him anything but 'Accelerator' in ten years or more.

But although he didn't talk much about it, reading between the lines his childhood must have been terrible. Had he really been serious when he said he'd been a live-in laboratory subject for years? Some of the things he mentioned off-handedly had to be exaggerations, no one would actually do that to a child, right?

In any case, I could sympathize with the distance that the power of a Level 5 put between us and other people. I had been somewhat lonely myself, not entirely fitting in at Tokiwadai for all that they put me on a pedestal, and having lost contact with my childhood friends who'd never made it past Level 1 and gone to different schools.

That evening when we sat together up there under the sky and clouds, I felt like there was no one in the world who understood me - the real me - better.

Kuroko was Kuroko. And as much as I appreciated her Kuroko-ness, the good and the annoying, whatever she saw when she looked at me, I was never sure if that was really me or some idol of me she had dreamed up.

And I was probably the only one in the world to actually talk to Accelerator like a person in years. It was… nice.

Then he literally gave me a ride back to my dorm. It was hair-raising, but also thrilling. Flying through the air, holding on to his back with all my strength. Being trusted to be inside that absolute barrier of his where I could have easily done anything to him.

I had a very confusing dream that night. Embarrassing too.

But that was probably just because of that unfortunate implication that had slipped into the joking declaration of my supposed imperial ambitions. And Kuroko's questions over her complete misapprehension of what I had been doing out so late.

The next morning when I saw that message from him my heart just about stopped for a moment. But then I realized that, no matter how many powers he could mimic with his own, that cow's mind-reading couldn't be one of them. So my embarrassing dreams were safe.

Still, those words never lead to anything good. But I couldn't have predicted how weird things would get:

Sisters, younger sisters, grown from my DNA in a lab. And not just one or two, but thousands!

I didn't want to believe it, I didn't want to believe that this city I loved would condone something like this. Or worse even.

But then I remembered thinking that the scientific conduct review board seemed strangely placed in the chart we'd learned in Political Science. Their judgment had no real teeth, at best it could make recommendations to the board of directors.

And a couple of my schoolmates had offhandedly mentioned things that I'd thought were just jokes or attempts to make themselves appear more interesting.

Accelerator himself had a certain look in his eyes on the rare occasion that he had mentioned the Special Ability Institute. And Accelerator had never lied to me. Maybe misled a bit, mostly to tease me, but lies he disdained.

So these documents were most likely entirely genuine.

I didn't know what to think. It… it felt like a violation. Like a denial of my existence as an individual. Like a rejection of my uniqueness as a person.

They tried to make me replaceable. Reduce me to the status of something built in an assembly line.

I was all set to channel that instinctive revulsion and rejection into burning rage, when Accelerator pointed out that as hateful as it was to me, it had to be even worse for them.

Not that I was wrong to feel that way, just to also consider their point of view.

I didn't want to. I wanted to reject their existence. Erase them from my mind never to bother me again.

But then I did think about it.

Grown in tubes. Treated like lab rats. Meant to die like lab rats without ever getting to properly live.

I was an only child. But I had at times thought about what it would be like to have a little sister or brother.

As I looked at that picture I recalled those childish thoughts of sharing our plushies and having someone at my side who would never leave me just because my Level rose too high.

And I thought about that hypothetical sister being set up to be tortured in a lab somewhere.

It was a terrible feeling. I had never felt so much rage and so much sadness before, much less at once. I felt like I might explode.

Accelerator put his arms around me and somehow that made it a little better. A whole lot of completely different confusion added to the mix, but that was still better than before.

He also told me he had the names and addresses of the people involved. And that if it was two Level 5s, neither of us would ever set foot in a courtroom.

I'd never had anyone tell me they were ready to commit murder together with me and actually mean it.

It should have been off-putting, but instead it was comforting. To know that someone was on my side so absolutely. That he trusted me and would stand beside me even if I decided to do something horrible.

At the same time, putting it into words spoken out loud made me realize that no matter how angry I was, actually killing people in a roaring rampage of revenge wasn't something I was ready to do. Much less in cold blood. Did he intentionally go for the most extreme option to help me realize that?

Accelerator had already shut down that abominable experiment before anything could happen and had apparently given the people involved nightmares and worse. Which from the uncomfortable way he mentioned it probably included more than a few injuries.

Good. Let them feel what it was like to be helpless with their lives held in someone else's hands, just like they had held the Sisters'. It only served them right.

Maybe I would use my control over anything digital to make sure the ones responsible really felt the sting. Try to make more of me, will you? Let's see how you like just one of me, the real me, when I'm on to you!

Things got awkward then, as I came back down to earth and actually realized the situation we were in. Accelerator, of course, so completely blind to some things despite that brain of his, didn't see the problem in the first place. He probably thought I was just embarrassed over shedding a few tears like he was.

Still, I swore him to silence and was for once happy about the paranoid measures he had taken to ensure a measure of privacy. If anyone had seen us like this I'd have just about died.

But I couldn't really hate him for that. He'd just tried his best to be there for me. And it wasn't his fault he had no parents and had spent more time in laboratories than among people. Honestly, he seemed more familiar with Western culture than Japanese sometimes for whatever reason.

Accelerator made introductions after that, taking me to a playground where several of the Sisters, as he collectively called them, had taken over a playground. Girls who looked exactly like me, if maybe a little bit younger, were everywhere. They even wore the Tokiwadai summer uniform for some reason. The one who had been reading Mary Shelley's Frankenstein on a bench to the side was their spokesperson, it seemed.

I had to control myself so hard not to show how discomforting it was to see my face on them, hear my voice from their mouths and to feel my power coming from them. But I persisted. I had promised I wouldn't blame them for circumstances beyond their control, after all.

Watching him with them, he really was like an older brother to them. Especially to the more childish ones like 32, though I wasn't entirely sure she wasn't just acting. Misaka 1, whom I was talking to, was more like a fellow older sibling in this equation, his co-conspirator in herding the younger ones.

It was an unfamiliar look on him. The terrifying Accelerator, more at home between explosions and high energy violence than making smalltalk, indulging them in simple games. Unfamiliar but not bad. Despite his often gruff attitude he really cared a lot.

I chatted with Misaka 1 for a bit and despite the awkward beginning we eventually managed a certain rapport, more at ease with one another.

She told me a bit about what it had been like to suddenly wake up with a whole lot of basic information crammed into her head but no life experience at all. How she and her sisters had been treated like robots at best and how they had gone along with it, taking it as normal and appropriate.

How it wasn't until Accelerator infiltrated their facility and treated them completely differently, that they started questioning things.

She told me how, despite that, she had been ready to do her part in the experiment she was created for. Knowing an inkling of fear at the suggestion that death was more than the loss of a replaceable network node, but still inescapably bound to the prescribed course of action. Programming, conditioning or learned helplessness, or maybe some mix of it all.

It was all I could do not to cry as I realized the true proportions of what had been done to them: Deprived of the experience of growing up with parents to love them and teach them. Intentionally left ignorant of so many important parts of the human condition. Made to think of themselves as less than human and replaceable, molded to obey without question… it was unspeakably evil.

But the experiment had been aborted. The Sisters had been allowed out into the world (in a limited way), to experience things like candy and music and life among other people. Their medical issues from the circumstances of their creation were in the process of being treated. Accelerator along with one of the scientists from the project, who had realized her mistakes, had made sure that there was no lingering malware in their mental software.

And, Misaka 1 told me happily (judging from her animation and verbal quirks), now the Sisters were set to travel out into the world in groups. There to continue their biochemical adjustments and assist the various scientific outposts and collaborating institutions, but also to experience other cultures and parts of the world.

There was a limit to how many of them were allowed to be out and about in Academy City at once, after all. Human cloning was completely illegal under international law, so they had to be careful.

Despite her generally unemotive demeanor she looked almost giddy in anticipation of all the new experiences and beautiful memories she would get to share over their mental network, even as she stayed right here in Academy City.

Accelerator had been right. Once I got to know even one of them as a person and not a distant symbol of the higher-up's complete disregard for me as an individual, it was impossible not to acknowledge them.

And Misaka 1 was just… nice. Even if she made me feel a little bad that despite being the younger sister, so to speak, between us, she was the one to carry so many burdens and take on such responsibility for the others.

We exchanged numbers, both for the Misaka Network switchboard operator and her personal number, and I promised that if she needed help I would be there.

Was this how they had gotten Accelerator so wrapped around their little fingers? It had been less than an hour and I already felt like there might be something to calling them my sisters in truth. Estranged by circumstances perhaps, uncertain still in what exactly we were to each other, but still.

We took our leave amid much clamor.

It was a strange feeling to realize in retrospect, that Accelerator's familiarity with the Sisters was probably why he had been so at ease with me back when we first met, to joke around like that with a complete stranger.

That look of familiarity and wordless communication between him and Misaka 1 as they said their goodbyes spoke of a powerful connection.

I didn't think I cared much for the thought. I was the original, the oldest and strongest. And it was only right and good that Accelerator cared for them. They deserved to have someone there for them after all that had been done to them. But still. Nonetheless I somehow felt like they had stolen something that should have been mine.

It was completely irrational, of course. Probably stemming from my competitive streak, which had gotten me in trouble before. So I resolved not to let it affect the way I interacted with them. I was the older sister after all. I should set a good example.

Please don't mind the heavy handed shipping. I want to get somewhere in less than 3 million words…

One-Way Road - Accelerator SI vs. the Toaru-verse Black Phoenix - A Harry Potter OC SI via Waifu Catalogue

The Pendragon Contingency - Warhammer 40K SI as DAoT!Arthur Pendragon Cosmic's dreams of distant worlds - Snippet archive

One-Way Road 12 - Level Upper

"Good evening, Dr. Kiyama."

The IPD diffusion field expert whirled around in surprise, her hands raised defensively. Something flickered around them, on the edge of manifesting. Despite not being on record as an esper she possessed a powerful IPD field. It bulged outward in an asymmetrical fashion, not uniform like a normal esper's but suffused with a riot of chaotic colors and contradictory forces.

The effect was surprisingly unnerving to my perception, like seeing human features distorted by tumors or things moving under the skin.

She stared at me with tired eyes without understanding for a moment, then she seemed to recognize me and slumped.

"From the beginning there really was no chance at all, was there?"

There was something more than defeat in her voice, a resignation as if she'd realized that all her work had come to nothing. I was used to a certain amount of fear from those who recognized me, often counting on it, but not such a weary of life surrender.

"If they sent you to stop me…"

Oh. She thought I was here to do cleaner work. With both #2 and #4 deeply embroiled in the Dark Side it wasn't a large leap to make, I supposed. Especially with me waiting for her in her locked apartment, all security systems disabled, late in the evening… shit. That wasn't what I had intended.

I raised my hands in a gesture of peace. "Pax, Dr. Kiyama. No one sent me. I'm not here to stop you. And I'm sorry for surprising you like this."

The look of disbelief was well deserved, I supposed. But since I wasn't sure how many eyes were on her at this point in time apart from my own, I had to be careful.

"Actually I'm here to help you, if I can," I continued. "You have accomplished remarkable things and I think it would be a waste for you to come to the bad end I can already see coming. Worse, without ever completing what you set out to do.

"And while I'm sure you have taken precautions to avoid permanent injury to the involuntary participants in the experimental Level Upper network… ," I gave her a sharp look and was relieved to see her indignant expression and mouthed confirmation, "Dangerous experiments on children are something I have issues with," I resumed with an edge to my tone. "As you should be able to understand yourself quite keenly, isn't that right, Dr. KiyamaKiyama-sensei?"

With my emphasis on 'sensei', being the address both for a scientist and a school teacher, the implicit allusion to the source of her trauma wasn't particularly subtle. And going by her pained grimace she was not unaware of the hypocrisy in drawing thousands of innocent students into an non-consensual unethical experiment in the hopes of fixing the injuries caused by a different unethical experiment.

Good, she wasn't too far gone then. Just blinkered by tunnel vision and driven by guilt. Maybe a slight bit of mania, as was a common side-effect of some of the older nootropic regimens.

"So I'm here to offer you an alternative," I continued and tapped two fingers to my temple. "Even ten thousand low level espers, if you could get that many into your network, still wouldn't measure up to the capacity of one Accelerator."

Even if she optimized for massively parallel processing, even considering the spectrum of different affinities she'd get by including espers of different categories in her network. The increase in processing capacity with each level was more than exponential. And, without bragging, even among the Level 5s I was essentially in a class of my own.

Kiyama Harumi looked poleaxed. "That… Why? Why would you come to me now, offering to help now?"

"I've had cause to do some digging," I explained slightly misleadingly. "Analysis of Induced Explosive Uncontrollable Ability Expression caused by Ability Body Crystal. That was the experiment that hurt those kids, right?"

"Y-yes."

"That was one of Kihara Gensei's pet projects. I have a grudge against that fucker." I shrugged. "Besides, I wouldn't be doing it entirely for free. After we finish helping your students I want you to work for me. Part time, if you want to return to your teaching job. And I want all the data and engineering principles you used to create the Level Upper."

Honestly, I'd do it just for the data on out-of-control esper powers and the Ability Body Crystal aka Esper Essence. Despite being able to reliably induce the development of esper abilities, so many things about them remained black boxes even to Academy City's groundbreaking science. Here might be one more puzzle piece on the long, long way towards completing the picture.

And Kiyama Harumi was undoubtedly a genius to have created the Level Upper all on her own. I could use someone as capable as her.

Her eyes briefly rested on the unassuming gray box humming atop the living room table.

"You're actually not the first to come to me with an offer like this," she said quietly. "They weren't even aware of my private project, and they still offered me simulation time on Tree Diagram and all the resources I could need to help my students. All that, if I just pitched in on the 'exciting new developments in synesthetic cognitive interference'."

The covert arms race in mind control technology, she meant. My report on the cult's capabilities had served to warn Anti-Skill, who now used a special analysis app on their biomonitors. But it had also thrown open the floodgates for the Dark Side and imitators had sprung up like mushrooms.

Luckily I had managed to snatch up Nunotaba Shinobu for my laboratory before someone else could get to her. Having been one of the few good people on the project who just did not realize what they were doing, she had suffered an emotional breakdown following the incident. I'd felt a bit of guilt over that, but hadn't let it stop me from leveraging it to get her on my team.

With Dr. Amai's unlamented death she was, in addition to being the genius behind the Testament neuro-programming system, probably the foremost expert on the Sister's cognitive architecture. And I'd be damned if I let some Dark Side asshole have that kind of access.

Unaware of my thoughts, Kiyama continued: "So why should I take your lesser offer?"

"It was Kihara Gensei, wasn't it." The name came out with a vitriol that surprised even myself. And the twitch on Kiyama's face confirmed it.

It was no surprise that Gensei was involved in this sort of thing. Despite my measures to sanitize the records of the incident at the Level 6 Shift kickoff, it was almost certain that the old man still had recordings of my loss of control back then. And thereby at least some data on the spontaneous mad quantum leap that set my own version apart by several orders of magnitude in sophistication.

"Because I'm not the one who performs experiments on children," I said simply. "I'm the one that ends them."

I wasn't some sort of superhero, just someone who couldn't abide seeing that sort of shit when I had the power to bitchslap into orbit stains on humanity like that.

Sure, I did have a number of intriguing ideas on the development of esper abilities which would require experimental validation. ~~Do it. Dew iiit!~~But when I imagined the faces of Mikoto or her little sisters in place of my hypothetical subjects I'd always put those ideas back on the drawing board again. There was no sane ethics board to speak of in this city so the principle of 'don't do anything to your subjects that you wouldn't do to them' was probably the best I'd get in terms of ethical guidance.

"You know the kind of man he is," I pressed on. "You know what he thinks of his experimental subjects. And how much his word is worth, when the alternative looks like it might give him some interesting data. Besides, if you were planning to take the old man's offer then you wouldn't still be releasing the Level Upper into the wild, now would you?"

And if she was doing that for Kihara Gensei as part of some sort of cooperation with him, then she was done for. Potential asset or not.

As if she'd read that thought of mine in my body language or through whatever extrasensory perception the nascent Level Upper network had granted her, the scientist drew herself up to her full height.

"And what if I decline your gracious offer just as I declined his?"

I shrugged. "Then I guess I'd have to keep looking for talent elsewhere."

Really, recruiting people at gunpoint was never a smart move.

"Other than that, much the same," I continued. "The Level Upper network will be dissolved, obviously. And I'll still see what can be done to help Gensei's victims."

Something flickered in Kiyama Harumi's eyes at the mention of dismantling her work. She didn't say anything, but underneath the superficial veneer of a human IPD diffusion field the Level Upper bubbled and frothed.

I frowned. Was it really so crucial that she herself be the one to undo the damage to those children? Or was being connected to a conglomeration of psychic effluvia already eating away at her sanity?

"As I said before," I stated simply, without menace but with finality. "I'm the one that puts an end to depraved experiments on children when I see them."

Kiyama Haruhi jerked back as if struck.

At this point she couldn't have more than a couple hundred espers enmeshed in her web. Even if the high of a sudden power up affected her as the control node as well, she clearly wasn't so delusional as to think I couldn't go right through her.

Then chagrin filled her expression and she looked away with a deep shuddering breath. "I deserve that, I suppose," she said bitterly.

Oh. I'd misjudged her. Not the implied threat but the comparison to Kihara Gensei had been what had struck her so. Good. It really should.

I didn't say anything more and for a minute or so as Kiyama Haruhi just stood there in silence.

"You said you weren't doing it for free, but then you said you'd do it anyway. You're not doing this to get one over Kihara Gensei, are you?" she finally said. "That's just an excuse."

"Tch. Yes or no, woman?"

She smiled.

"The next morning I actually called the Sisters, just to make sure it hadn't been some sort of strange nightmare," Mikoto confessed. "It still feels a bit unreal. That I can attend school, enjoy the sunshine, go shopping with Kuroko and her friends - all that, while at the same time the Sisters exist as proof of the sort of evil plot I'd expect from a movie villain but not in real life."

We had met up with the intention of testing more mobility type power applications, but the heat was sweltering and Mikoto, for once, wasn't in the mood for sweaty work.

"No cackling supervillains, but plain old greed and ambition are bad enough," I mused. "And unfortunately far more common."

"I feel like a failure, to only find out now that something like that was going on and I never knew. That I should have known. That I should have done something."

Mikoto had her head turned away looking down and despondently kicked at a piece of gravel.

"I don't think there's any blame to be put on you. And I'm sure the Sisters don't think so either. But if you feel that way, then I'd say focus on what you can do now and not on 'should have'."

"Like what?"

"Like being there for them, for example," I proposed my own way of dealing with things. "Or helping keep them away from other people who'd want to take advantage of them. Like keeping your eyes open in case you run into some other messed up situation."

I paused for a moment. "And if you still feel bad, maybe talk it over with someone you trust, like your parents."

"Hmm." Mikoto made an ambivalent noise at that last suggestion. "Is stuff like that really so common?"

"More than you'd think. Probably more than I suspect, even," I shrugged. "You have parents who'd raise a fuss if you got killed in some ludicrous experiment. And the higher ups probably knew early on that you had the potential for Level 5 and didn't want to mess with that. But there are a lot of students without those advantages."

"Anyone has the potential for Level 5," Mikoto protested.

"In theory, sure. But some people have a mountain to climb for every step. And then there's freaks like me."

Mikoto looked like she wanted to protest the self-deprecating term, accurate though it was for someone who'd been Level 4 from the start, if one with shit for control, and made it to Level 5 in two years and change.

I just bulldozed on: "Think back to that Tree Diagram prediction that would eventually get to Level 6 within 250 years of regular development. If they can predict even something like that, then they must have accurate models and more than enough developmental markers to make predictions for other students' development. You know that some schools and institutes are 'better' than others. I'm sure they run cost/benefit analyses for the amount of resources they invest in students' development curricula."

My other memories had included some vague ideas of something called the 'Parameter List', but my research had turned up quite a bit on how the process actually worked even if I hadn't been able to access all of the data behind it or the actual results.

"That…" Mikoto shook her head. "But they said…" She trailed off, clearly not liking the implications at all but finding her arguments lacking. With the Level 6 Shift documents she was more than capable of running down the references until she got there herself. "If you're trying to make me feel better you're not doing a very good job at it," she finally complained.

"… sorry. "

We sat in silence for a minute.

"Do you think maybe that's why Mental Out hated me from the start?" Mikoto then said contemplatively. "With her power she might have known about that project. But since she can't read my thoughts, she wouldn't have known I wasn't involved?"

"If anyone would be able to know things they weren't meant to, it would be Mental Out. But if that's the reason for her beef with you…" I trailed off leadingly.

"I'm not entertaining the ridiculous notion that Shokuhou is a good person," Mikoto complained. "Even if her heart was in the right place about that, she's still the worst!"

Since I only knew of the #5 from rumors and hearsay, I could only shrug. The most powerful telepath in Academy City didn't feature much in other memories either.

"You know," I ventured for a change of subject. "Misaka 1 asked me if you wanted to visit with them again."

Mikoto perked up a bit. "Sure. The next time you do something with them I'll come with you."

That was the Accelerator method of cheering someone up, apparently. Load them down with unpleasant revelations until returning to the previous problem was a refreshing change.

"I'm sure they would be more than happy to make it a girls' day out…"

By now I had resigned myself to being part of the entertainment every once in a while. But why not let their actual big sister take some of the burden?

"I'll do that, too. But… I have to make sure you aren't teaching them strange things."

Girl, the Sisters have internet access. Don't blame me for whatever strange things they might pick up.

But I understood, I thought. When meeting new people it was always less awkward when you had a friend along to introduce you.

"I'll copy you in," I acquiesced without addressing the other bit.

"Alright!" Mikoto stretched. "I should probably get a move on. Kuroko is getting annoyingly nosy."

"You know," I joked, "I'm not one of the fair folk, I'm not going to disappear if you mention my name to someone else."

Mikoto gave me a confused look. Oh right, that was only in Western fairy tales.

"Kuroko would absolutely make a scene, though." Mikoto's expression was half fondness, half annoyance. "I'm not sure how her mind works and I'm probably happier that way. Please try not to hurt her, if she does try to kill you."

"Sure, sure." I waved that away. People trying to murder me wasn't something to get upset about anymore.

"Anyway, Kuroko's friends, Uiharu and Saten, had some strange ideas about Tokiwadai and about me when we first met. So now I'm taking every opportunity to put a lid on that."

She seemed happy. Good. More friends could only do her good.

I knew it had been good for me to get to know the Sisters, and damn Aiho and the Heaven Canceller for having been right about that. Even if they still had some ways to go before I could really consider them equals. Maybe younger siblings of a sort, cousins, kouhai, something like that for now.

When was the last time I'd really had friends before now? Second year of elementary school for the old Accelerator. Less than clear in my other memories. Either way, things were looking up now.

With a flourish I approved another contract sent to me by the Lab's lawyer while waiting for the finish on my latest engineering project to settle.

When it came to media technologies Academy City was just as far ahead of the world as in everything else: AR glasses that were as light, simple and robust as normal glasses. Wireless earbuds that were so light, breathable and ergonomic that you'd forget you were even wearing them.

So producers needed something more than that to set themselves apart from the others. That was where my design for a cognitohazard filter came in, that stripped out dangerous signals from the incoming stream and applied noise-canceling technology (or pixel noise interference in the case of glasses) against ambient sources of the same.

To the producers it was essentially a black box that was wired directly before the output hardware. An AI model neural matrix implemented as solid state hardware in form of a three-dimensional semiconductor crystal that would degrade if its containment was breached or imaging techniques applied.

That made it a pain to synthesize and impossible to update like a software solution. But it should harden it against technopathy and, most importantly, would make it extremely difficult to reverse engineer the principles it guarded against. I wanted to help shield people after all, not give out hints on how to improve the mind control fetishists' tech.

That was the consumer version anyway, which I hoped would spread far enough to be a problem for the cult and other Dark Side malefactors.

Then there were the bespoke versions handcrafted by myself personally and handed out to my friends, allies, lab personnel and agents. The people I absolutely would not want subverted. These ones were significantly more comprehensive in their protection. Against mental esper powers I couldn't yet guarantee safety, but there was a good chance that any abnormal changes in the brainwaves would be detected. These versions, I had a feeling, might drive a regular engineer somewhat mad if he looked into them too hard.

This particular set was meant for Dr. Kiyama. Afflicted as she had been by tunnel vision she'd never considered the ends her technology could potentially be put towards and had been appalled. There was no putting either genie back into the bottle now, but we'd do our part to contain them.

Speedrun attempt for the Level Upper Arc: Less than ideal, missed the perfect timing. Oh well, it couldn't be helped. ~~Wanting to see the Level Upper in action certainly wasn't a factor at all, that would be unethical after all.~~

Last edited: Jul 1, 2023

One-Way Road - Accelerator SI vs. the Toaru-verse Black Phoenix - A Harry Potter OC SI via Waifu Catalogue

The Pendragon Contingency - Warhammer 40K SI as DAoT!Arthur Pendragon Cosmic's dreams of distant worlds - Snippet archive

One-Way Road 13

"You think you're some big shot, coming here and telling us what to do?"

Between the red-dyed hair, the leather jacket studded with metal spikes and the big mouth this one was clearly the head asshole of this bunch. Esper gangs, what a bunch of posers.

"Yeah!", the second guy cut in. "With the Level Upper we're all at Level 3 now!"

They posed, faintly reminiscent of a sentai team, manifesting swirls of fire, wind and… was that slime or something? Clearly they expected that to impress me. Level 3 was generally considered the level where an ability was at least as threatening as a gun. And it could go way up from there.

"Tch. The hard way it is."

I stepped forward with intent and three different ability manifestations impacted harmlessly on my barrier. Meh. That wasn't even Level 3 in strength. Maybe with the full network it would have been, but not anymore.

Before the three stooges could do more than gape at their impotency my hands brushed across each of them in turn, quick as a snake. Wheezing noises and three thumps marked three falling bodies. Vector manipulation could make for a pretty good impression of dim mak. Well, more 'paralyzing touch' than 'touch of death' in this case.

"Against my Carbon Barrier no amount of performance enhancers will help you," I lectured while withdrawing three sets of headphones from my bag. "Did you know? The human body is 18.5% carbon by weight. But as long as you don't strain too much, there won't be any damage."

With my hair set to zero light reflection, wearing variable tint shooter glasses and a suit I wouldn't normally be caught dead in, I was playing corporate ninja today. A slightly altered set of tensions in my facial muscles and vocal cords along with a different gait completed the disguise. It wouldn't do for the #1 to be seen doing this sort of drudgery.

The apparent leader of the three got out something that might have been supposed to be a 'fuck you'. The others were sufficiently cowed. Their underlings downstairs weren't even a consideration.

"Really, this is for your own good. That Level Upper stuff would be eating away at your brains until they looked like swiss cheese," I hammed it up as I put a headphone on each of their heads. "First the initial boost goes away. Then you feel tired all the time. And then you fall into a coma and never wake up."

By the three stooges' panicked looks they had already noticed that the power boost provided by the network had gone way down since yesterday.

The first thing we had done was take down every instance of Kiyama's original uploads and then keep taking down the reposts. After that we'd put out an 'emergency patch' through the same channels.

Citing significant neural damage and disability as side effects of continued use of the 'leaked alpha version' and finishing with a 'commercial release expected in August' had proven an effective double-tap of misinformation and had accounted for a majority of the Level Upper victims.

The small number of holdouts were a pain, though. Sure, they'd eventually pop up in one neurological ward or another. And the Heaven Canceller had pushed a notice through medical channels that cases of 'persistent idiopathic coma state with brain wave abnormalities in espers' were to be referred to him for specialty treatment so they'd get the care they needed.

But there was always the possibility of someone losing consciousness at the wheel or in some other dangerous situation. And I felt a measure of responsibility, given that I had waited too long to confront Dr. Kiyama. ~~I would hate to be disturbed in the mania of creation myself, after all.~~

Plus, the better we could contain this affair the harder we would make it on any possible copycats. Reverse engineering from the compiled audio file, which we'd never be able to erase all copies of, wasn't impossible. But even the likes of Kihara Gensei would probably need a whole team and at least a couple of months without Kiyama's unpublished theory and backend source code.

With the push of a button the deprogramming track started playing and I could see the three wanna-be gangsters' eyes rolling up in their heads as the disorientation of the Level Upper mental software crumbling away hit them.

Far more interesting was my perception beyond the merely physical. Unlike Kiyama's eldritch abnormality, their IPD diffusion fields were relatively simple if bearing clear signs of manipulation: Ripples of interference, strength out of line with their other qualia, and a faint smear of discoloration to mark the influx of foreign fields.

When I focused deeper I could also perceive the now familiar resonance connection. In my other memories I recalled them visualized as lines, but that was a terribly limited metaphor.

As best I could tell, the brainwave overlay created a point of shared identity, causing a resonance between two IDF. If you considered it within just 4-11 dimensional space that looked like spooky action at a distance, a quantum effect like entanglement. And maybe it was. But feeling my way into imaginary spaces I could also visualize it as both IPD fields involved expanding eccentrically towards a shared point in higher dimensional imaginary space where they overlapped and became one in truth.

That expanded perspective also allowed for greater insight into the internal structures and mechanisms involved. IPD fields seemed to act as the in-between, the transition between self-aware mind, personal reality and macroscale ability expression. The resonance, the overlap or unity of two IDF then reinforced both in a manner that I had yet to fully understand and allowed for the direct connection of minds to carry calculation data, thoughts and memories.

And that directional flow was something that I could touch upon with my vector manipulation. As the deprogramming routine wiped the artificial overlay from the brain of the pyrokinetic the resonance collapsed and with it the connection. But the flow of information remained for several long seconds, held in place by my ability. From a certain perspective I was stretching my own IDF to act as the connecting element. Which accounted for the unpleasantly intimate feeling like putting a finger each into the mouths of two strangers.

The connection lapsed and I shuddered a bit. Maybe that was just my overactive imagination. Or more likely there was something I was missing in terms of isolating different channels or dimensions. IPD diffusion field based telepaths seemed to have no such problems after all.

Even so it was a proof of concept. IDF themselves were not easily manipulated as electromagnetism or gravity due to their complex higher dimensional and imaginary topology. But I'd get there soon enough.

Wiping the Level Upper data from the shivering Level Upper victims' devices, identifying any previous transfers and inputting a virus to delete those copies as well was but an afterthought.

"Remember kids, don't do drugs. Or you might get more visits like this," I stated drily. They were older than I was, of course. And if they got involved in drugs other than experimental synesthetic psychotropics, then late evening visits would probably involve more guns. But why let that get in the way of a joke they wouldn't understand.

Stepping out through the opened window I landed on the sidewalk with the same ease as if I'd just stepped down a step on a staircase. The lookout nursing a bruise on the front stairs of the 'gang HQ' such as it was scrambled to get up and get behind a closed door.

Silently the door of Kiyama's car rotated upwards and I slid into the front seat. "Three down, 18 more to go." I reported. "Since we're here already, let's keep going through the rest of the District and we'll try the next iteration of the resonance scanner tomorrow."

Kiyama frowned in unvoiced reluctance but started the car and brought up the planned route on the navigation display. Until my contacts got back to me this was the first priority and there was little else we could do.

I'd already blazed through most of the material Kiyama had provided me on the theoretical background and started looking into the data on her students, the experiment and their condition afterwards. Such intriguing Science! And crunching the numbers on the first couple of jobs the doctor had prepared was something I could easily do as a background task. As long as I wasn't in a serious fight anyway.

While Kiyama started driving I closed my eyes and once again attuned my perception to that almost meditative state in which I could perceive the fluctuations of the remaining IPD field resonance connections extending from Kiyama's central node of the Level Upper.

With that sight beyond sight projected back into a 4-dimensional perspective, once we were close enough I would be able to tell the direction and approximate distance. Like a compass needle aligning along magnetic field lines or a plant stretching towards sunlight.

Initially we'd had high hopes of finding a technological solution, maybe one that we could simply connect to a mapping software. But so far we'd only advanced the resolution of the existing IPD field scanners. Translating the twisty way of perception I accessed into a proper algorithm had been unsuccessful so far.

But since I could do it with my power, our trips throughout the city to locate and deprogram the remaining Level Upper holdouts doubled as gathering a training dataset for the attempt to shortcut a solution through machine learning.

Either way, the significantly improved IPD field scanner technology would surely make both the academic community and my accountant happy.

"Listen up," I addressed my soldiers. "We've lost contact with 404 on the border between alpha and beta quadrant. Our best bet now is to proceed through the container pile up here," I drew a line on the map between us, "and try to catch them in a flanking maneuver. 103, you will take point. And watch out for snipers."

Misaka 103 and 104, both decked out in full-body high tech paintball loadouts nodded seriously. "'Yes, sir', Misaka acknowledges with military discipline," they chorused.

Both 103 and 104 had developed a particular interest in all things military and, together with 13, had been the ones to push through the vote for today's excursion.

We moved out, both of the Sisters conducting a picture perfect bounding overwatch. Well, probably. It's not like I had any military experience. But they sure looked professional. And military tactics had been one of the things contained in their Testament download.

The AR equipment in our goggles painted rusty metal textures over the chaotic maze of 3-D printed plastics and softly crunching gravel under our feet in place of PVC flooring. As we got closer to the area where we had lost our recon specialist, Misaka 103 started to slow down. She used the camera attached to her submachine gun to peek around corners while 104 and I covered her.

"'Sniper up on the walkway,' warns Misaka in a low but urgent voice."

After a quick whispered exchange we split up, the two Sisters moving down the right hand path and I to the left. I counted the seconds: 28, 29, 30. Then with a running start I jumped up towards the left hand container, kicked off to land on top the one to my right and instantly ducked into a roll to avoid a paintball shot.

Metal thundered under my feet as I accelerated again, the paintball gun in my right speaking out twice, forcing the slim figure under urban camouflage netting to roll aside to avoid being splattered with blue. A flying leap brought me up to the walkway and a third shot finished off our dastardly sniper before she could bring her rifle to bear.

There was no time to celebrate, however.

"He's mine!" Fwub, fwub, fwub, fwub, fwub. Mikoto clearly had appropriated the paintball gun with the highest rate of fire and abandoned the cover of what the AR painted as the husk of a burned out plane lying on top of the piled up containers to hose me down.

Bending sideways and ducking forward I avoided the first shots, then leaped forward to zig-zag between the railings of the walkway in a counter-intuitive rhythm. Both of us had taped sensors to the backs of our necks to keep us from using our overwhelming abilities to distort the match. But my advanced body control wasn't strictly a use of my power.

Mindful of my soldiers' position I moved perpendicular to Mikoto's course, pausing only briefly to return fire. My handgun didn't have much accuracy at anything but close range and for either of us the paintballs were slow enough to potentially dodge if we saw them coming. But with a well-calculated spread I still forced her to duck left, at which point she had to make a desperate jump to reach the next container - and, remembering that she couldn't use her electromastery, she missed.

Hearing her curse and her gun clatter on the ground I jumped down from my exposed position landing in a roll that ended in a kneeling shooter's position - and was faced not with one but three Misaka, two of them with paintball guns at the ready.

Fwub, fwub, fwub, fwub, fwub. Sideward roll into standing up, duck, rapid sidestep, half turn, sacrifice my gun to deflect that one, that was close. Misaka 1 and 55 worked well together, saturating the space between the two containers to the point that even with my implausible speed I had to work overtime

"Ahhhh, stay still!" Mikoto had picked up her own gun and was joining the fun, letting rip with a long burst.

I kicked off the ground hard enough to put cracks in something even without my ability at play and tuck into a rapid backwards roll. There around the corner sweet, sweet cover awaited.

But then a paintball hit one of my legs and the myomers in the suit seized up to simulate the injury, leaving me stranded in the middle of the intersection. The next salvo splattered me all over.

"Got him. Finally!" I couldn't see her, but I imagined Mikoto was pumping a fist.

"'Enemy down,' Misaka announces proudly."

Three pairs of footsteps closed in on me.

"Good work. Team, we rock!"

Wiping the red paint away from my goggles I could see Misaka Mikoto and the two Sisters standing over me and, urged on by Mikoto, exchanging high fives.

Well, at least they were getting along. I smiled under my mask.

For more than one reason, because that was when Misaka 103 and 104 lit up all three of them in a crossfire. Impressively Mikoto managed to dodge the first couple of shots dancing like crazy, but the following salvos painted her blue all over.

All according to plan.

"Ahh, it always tastes best when someone else is paying," Mikoto sighed happily at the first taste of her overpriced strawberry cake.

We were sitting in an ice cream parlor not far from the AR paintball arena in District 3. This district catered mostly to authorized visitors with huge exhibition halls and other large scale technology demonstrations.

But while this meant that there were some entertainment options here that you wouldn't find in other districts, it also meant that the prices were calibrated for international business audiences and consequently hard on a student's budget. That probably just added to the schadenfreude aspect, though.

"'Is that a quantifiable effect,' asks Misaka 55, curious about this heretofore unknown factor."

Misaka 103 and 104 who played up the 'twin sisters' style with matching hair ties and synchronized nods seemed interested as well. 404 was content to sit to my left and sip at her tea.

"I don't know about quantifiable, but it's true!" Mikoto exclaimed. "There is nothing so sweet as victory. So it makes everything better."

Now which of us was teaching the Sisters strange things. Although it was nice to see her so comfortable with them. Making this a team sports event had been a good idea.

Misaka 1 tilted her head. "'But our red team lost,' Misaka points out the contradiction."

While my group had ended up ahead in overall wins, in the side bet between myself and Mikoto who'd get more 'kills' over the other I'd lost. So I was the one who'd be getting stuck with the bill. Judging from her satisfied demeanor I supposed both of us thought ourselves the true victor here.

"Ah," Mikoto denied happily, "but I made sure that we would win no matter what, didn't I? After all, here we are."

More like, I knew that Mikoto would take risks to get one over me, leaving me with a tactical advantage since I could predict many of her actions. A crucial edge, since despite 103's and 104's enthusiasm for all things military and 404's sneaking skills, the combination of 1's superior Level 3 ability, 13's sharpshooting and 55's athleticism was hard to beat.

"I'd call that winning the battle but losing the war," I commented wryly. "But then that's a matter of perspective."

Mikoto smugly stabbed a strawberry with her fork and gave me a look that said 'but I still won' so clearly I could almost hear it.

"'Previous experience recorded by the network would seem to agree with the initial thesis,' Misaka returns to the initial subject while concealing a hidden agenda." Misaka 404 had been quiet so far but now she seemed to have found her opportunity. "'But given the disagreement further experiments may be indicated to confirm the causation,' Misaka proposes."

Mikoto, Misaka 1 and I all exchanged amused glances. That certainly was one way to argue we should do this again.

"Ah-hah! Found you, Onee… sama…" The young girl with the twin-tails and the Judgment armband trailed off in shock at finding her friend in my company.

A wild Shirai Kuroko had appeared.

Mikoto immediately put a bit more distance between us with the air of someone being caught, even though we weren't actually standing 'too close'. Sometimes she got flustered for no apparent reason lately, but it was a cute look on her so I didn't mind.

Shaking with emotion, Shirai pointed an accusing finger. "It can't be! So you were really having a rendezvous with a gentleman, Onee-sama."

"Now wait just a minute, I've told you before…" Mikoto objected, but in vain.

Shirai was clearly on a roll and in a flash of something she stood before me. "So this is the one? As Onee-sama's partner I must introduce myself then… "

She reached out as if to grasp my hands in a Western style greeting, but I could see the edge to that underneath. With touch-range abilities any contact could convey a threat as easily as a knife to the throat, but completely deniable.

I met her eyes, more amused than anything else. In my other memories Shirai Kuroko had been a colorful character, perpetually on the edge between hilarious and annoying. To see her in the flesh, well, I'd reserve judgment for now. But that teleportation ability of hers was interesting.

At the last moment Shirai pulled back, folding her hands and transitioning into a sort of curtsy. She controlled herself well, but I could see the small twitch under her eye and the tension in her muscles. Good instincts on that one. Many teleporters had a high aptitude in clairvoyance as a necessary part of their ability. Not that I would actually hurt her, of course.

"Allow me then," she said dramatically and using elevated language, "this one has the honor of being Onee-sama's one and only partner, Shirai Kuroko. It is a very special pleasure to meet you."

Ah, high manners and implied insults. With Mikoto as my first impression it was easy to forget that for most Tokiwadai students violence took many forms and many of them were non-obvious.

Mikoto covered her eyes with one hand in embarrassment at her friend's antics. "Kuroko…" The other was clenched into a fist, sparks building around it.

"Miss Shirai, how nice to meet you," I accepted the courtesy with a regal nod instead of a proper bow. In a contest of archaic manners I'd lose without question even if I were inclined to play. But I could be dismissive all day long. "Misaka has spoken highly of you, but I was beginning to think we would never meet."

I tilted my head with an expression of surprise. "You said partner, though?" I turned to Mikoto who was increasingly coming to resemble a boiling tea kettle, whistling noises and all. "You didn't tell me about that. Are congratulations in order then?"

The words Shirai had used left a minimum of ambiguity, but mine with the emphasis I put on them didn't. See how the little gremlin liked to be on the other side of comedic misunderstandings.

Oh. By the look of her, seen from the corner of my eye, she liked it a little too much and was off in her own little world in an instant.

Mikoto on the other hand exploded: "Don't involve other people in your delusions, Kuroko!"

Shirai wasn't so far gone as to fail to avoid the arcs of lightning that scoured the pavement like whips. She did have a lot of experience with that, from what Mikoto had told me. And this time I could faintly see an IPD field manifestation just a fraction ahead of her translocation. Interesting.

Standing on the railing that separated boardwalk and street with easy balance she pushed both hands against her temples and shook her head. "No, no, focus on the present, not on the golden future."

Once again Shirai pointed an accusing finger at me: "Don't think I don't see what you're doing. You're trying to corrupt Onee-sama with your delinquent ways! But I, her steadfast knight, will stand beside her without fail. And I will not allow Onee-sama's heart to be trampled by a common thug."

"A common thug? My, what language, what shocking accusations! But I suppose you did cut me off before I could introduce myself, my lady. I am the Accelerator. Please treat me kindly," I added the formulaic greeting with a strong ironic undertone.

"Not you too, Accelerator," Mikoto complained, clearly considering playing along with her chuuni language as encouraging Shirai. "Gods, kill me now."

Shirai's eyes widened for a moment, but then she shook her head. "Oh no, you won't fool me." In a flash she stood beside Mikoto and grabbed her arm. "Come, Onee-sama, let's go. Everyone is waiting for you."

That was not the usual reaction I got. But if she actually believed I was blowing hot air, then that would make it all the funnier when she realized. Oh, I was enjoying this.

"Now wait a second, Kuroko, you can't just… hey!"

But Shirai bulldozed right over Mikoto's objections. "Bye now," she called out in a 'see you again never' tone, and in a ripple of distorted space they were gone.

"Have fun, you two!" I called after them, giving a casual wave in the direction of the rooftop where I'd seen them reappear.

Well, that was fun. Shirai certainly was a character, that was for sure. She would probably start to wear on me soon enough, as she did on Mikoto, but this had been straight up comedy.

I mean, I didn't even have any designs on Mikoto. She was a good friend, fun to be around and her power and work ethic were seriously impressive. Sure, she was also a beautiful young woman and adorable as hell sometimes, but… but that just meant I wasn't blind.

Letting out a sigh I hoped that Shirai and her one track mind wouldn't make things weird.

"The others will be here by the end of the week," the Heaven Canceller stated with quiet reassurance. "It took a bit of digging, but I dare say there are very few more familiar with this city's medical facilities than I."

Kiyama let out a sigh of relief, but her expression was conflicted. "I've spent years not knowing if I would even be able to find them once I put together a treatment. And now, just like that…"

There was a lesson in that, not that I would be the one to point it out. Those who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones.

The three of us were standing in a large, well-lit room on the fourth floor of the legendary doctor's hospital. Before us the first of Kiyama's students laid in a futuristic hospital bed that reminded me more of a spaceship cryopod like one might see in a hard sci-fi movie than the sort of intensive care setup I was familiar with.

A self-cleaning respirator, fully automatic comfort, hygiene and nutrition solutions, electrostimulation to mitigate muscle atrophy and 24/7 monitoring of vital parameters by an integrated AI. The perfect setup for the efficient long-term 'storage' of a coma patient that someone wanted to keep on ice somewhere out of sight.

"Patient Edasaki Banri, female, 13 years old," the Heaven Canceller began to summarize, "has remained in a persistent comatose state for more than four years. The first round of tests shows…"

Apart from the consequences of her long term coma there was diffuse organ damage and scarring of unknown origin, but most importantly her NeuroTrace-EEG, mPET-fMRI and CSF chemistry were, to use the technical term, a complete mess.

So, pretty much what we expected. Now to do something about it.

"I've uploaded the results of jobs four through six to your bench," I noted to Kiyama. "You'll want to look at six in particular. I can already tell that the current working hypothesis is at best incomplete."

The IPD diffusion field specialist halted in pouring her coffee and breathed in sharply. That was the only sign of frustration she allowed herself, however.

"I'll go over it again and see if I can amend it," she said, her voice as even and controlled as ever. Then she yelped as her cup ran over and hot coffee soaked through her coat and skirt. "How annoying."

Without hesitation began undressing, throwing the lab coat over the back of her chair. "Do you…" she hesitated briefly, but practicality won out over her pride as a domain expert. "Do you have a suggestion?"

I could empathize. Having someone just show up with a vector control power of their own, having gone through none of the long slogs and painful trials I did, but not only critique my life's work but actually be right about it, that would be hard to bear. ~~Why, the only recourse would be to crush them utterly and let them be an example to the rest.~~But Kiyama was ruthless to herself in pursuit of her singular ambition.

"Not yet. I'll want to finish the run through the set first" I turned back to my own workbench in the room we had set aside for this project just as Kiyama began to remove her coffee-stained skirt.

She was an attractive enough woman, I supposed, but I couldn't unsee the hideous sludge of psychic emanations she'd carried around with her when we first met. All disconnected and cleaned up now, but the first impression remained with me. In any case, it wasn't any of my business how she conducted herself.

Reaching for the next solid state medium I suffused it with my vector field perception and absorbed its contents in one go. The block of data sat in my consciousness like a thousand ton block of stone, but I'd get it broken down, sorted and turned into neat little bricks to build a model from soon enough.

This was a very different sort of application than my usual power calculations, but it was good to stretch my abilities in every direction. Tree Diagram would be able to do it faster, but then it possessed hundreds of kilograms of computation substrate compared to my one point seven. And I was still getting better.

Kiyama Harumi had over the years kept, copied, begged, borrowed, and outright stolen a tremendous heap of research data and documentation that had filled in a great many blank spots in between the papers I could access.

That included the petabytes of data recorded during the actual experiment on her students, but crucially not Kihara Gensei's own analysis and conclusions. Nor much of the work he and others had done on the subject of Crystallized Esper Essence since then.

And we knew that work was still being done, because various labs funded by Sukunabikona Pharmaceutical were still putting out papers now and then, but what they published was just the tip of the iceberg.

The scientific culture of the Dark Side was rather schizophrenic. On the one hand publishing was a big part of reputation and success, on the other hand there was a shit ton of stuff locked away in sealed vaults, encrypted company archives, or behind special access programs accessible only to those belonging to certain groups or working on a specific project. You needed reputation and connections to swim in those waters.

It sometimes seemed more like hidden libraries full of arcane secrets and rarefied mountaintop fortresses dedicated to the practice of secret, forbidden arts more than like science as I knew it.

Thus, unless we could find and loot the right data vaults or get our hands on one of the people involved in the spin-off projects, there was no option but to work everything out ourselves. Thus the number crunching I was doing to condense that gigantic ocean of raw data down into an understanding of what exactly had happened. From there I would run a series of simulations until we arrived at a testable hypothesis - and most likely go back to the drawing board when it was falsified. But that was the way science worked.

Maybe hitting Sukunabikona Pharmaceutical would be faster, but the company was rumored to have strong ties to (if it wasn't directly owned by) one of the directors. Besides, I welcomed the challenge. ~~Maybe those guys were years ahead of us, but then they were all hacks. I could probably catch up in no more than a couple of weeks.~~

"It's weak and fluctuating, but the IPD diffusion field is there," I confirmed with one hand hovering over the patient's head.

"Even the new scanner can barely distinguish it from random noise," Kiyama huffed, frustrated. "Useless."

"We still have learned something new," the Heaven Canceller moderated calmly. "This is not the first comatose esper patient I've seen. And normally the involuntary physical distortion field is measurable, if weakened compared to the wakeful state. Something is different for these patients. And when we find out what, then we will be one more step further along."

"How much awareness is truly required to maintain a personal reality," I wondered out loud, "if even in a state beyond any recognizable thought, reality is still measurably distorted."

My perception extended deeper as I let my biological senses and awareness of the outside world fade away. I locked on to that barely perceptible fluctuation, observing, recording and refining my filter. The greater the magnification the more noise I had to ignore, but the ability of finding the patterns in the chaos was at the very core of spark cognition.

Intuitively it was similar to moving back and forth until you had just the right perspective. Like lining up to match the directionality of a signal laser. That direction being the precise diffusion vector of the IPD field. And from there I could regress back towards the origin point and derive a basis that defined the unique imaginary vector space that in intersecting with real space gave rise to the IDF. Adjust my perception and… interesting.

"I see it," I heard my own voice as if from a great distance. "It's like starlight and solar wind. It's just that the star itself is beyond the reach of our scanners. But I can see it."

My notional eyes squinted at the confusing impression from that distant phenomenon. "Something is wrong, though. The fluctuations. The wind is not steady, it comes in gusts. Regular. A wave pattern. The light shifts in frequency. And the star in the distance is flickering. It's like… like the EEG of a patient in a tonic-clonic seizure."

In a disorienting snap my diffuse and overextended perception returned to physical reality. Both the Heaven Canceller and Dr. Kiyama were staring at me but neither questioned me. After the last couple of days they were slowly becoming used to the level of ridiculousness that I brought to the table.

Rather Kiyama was pale as the wall behind her and teetering on her feet. "Their powers are still going berserk? Even while comatose? Continuously through all these years?"

The connection to the data recorded during the experiment was one I'd made myself, but I hadn't considered the full implications. The explosive berserk state that had been induced in the childrens' powers could be likened to an epileptic seizure. But unlike a normal seizure, rather than muscular convulsions it was their power itself, made from their thoughts and emotions and the very concept of who they were, that was ripping itself apart. And they were fully conscious and aware of it all, at first anyway.

It probably was a mercy that her students were in a coma and thus beyond pain.

The Heaven Canceller, ever empathetic, laid one hand on Kiyama's shoulder. "We will save them," he said quietly but in the tone of someone stating an absolute and unchangeable truth. "It may take some time, but we will save them."

No need to get on my case for misuse of mathematical terms, I'm aware I'm basically technobabbling.

Last edited: Jul 8, 2023

One-Way Road - Accelerator SI vs. the Toaru-verse Black Phoenix - A Harry Potter OC SI via Waifu Catalogue

The Pendragon Contingency - Warhammer 40K SI as DAoT!Arthur Pendragon Cosmic's dreams of distant worlds - Snippet archive

One-Way Road 13.S

I've been looking forward to writing a big combat scene, but now that it's here the chapter is kicking my ass with all the many moving parts to keep track of. So, for now, a brief digression…

A Certain Teleporter's Troubled Mind

In retrospect I should have seen it sooner. But after I had just managed to finally push out that unworthy harridan and become closer to my Onee-sama by taking the honored place at her side as her roommate, I had been blinded by happiness. Was this what they called the honeymoon period?

There were days when Onee-sama was evasive about what she was doing and where she was going. Hours upon hours where I didn't know where she was. And then she returned, exhausted but strangely satisfied and happy. Despite the bruises and scrapes she sometimes bore, as if she had been fighting.

When I started noticing the pattern I thought at first, that maybe she had begun a new power development program. That had been the reason she'd given a couple of times (I had made a statistical analysis of her excuses).

But I checked. Any institute that wanted to approach a Tokiwadai student to help them develop their power had to go through the school. And Tokiwadai had extremely stringent rules and background checks.

There was no new institute listed as having approached Onee-sama. So had that been a lie… or worse, were some shady people taking advantage of her noble spirit?

But when I showed my concern and deep commitment to be there for her, she just shut me out.

Onee-sama would never hurt me without a good reason. Had she been threatened? Was she suffering in silence to spare her partner, me, from some terrible fate? I had to know!

And then there was that time when she returned through the window, less than a minute before curfew, dressed like a delinquent and not in the noble uniform of our school!

She was in a daze of sorts then, strangely flushed, and an awful suspicion started to take root in my mind: Had Onee-sama been fooled by some boy? Had she fallen in with a bad crowd?

She had always had those tomboyish tendencies, so quick to resort to violence with hands and electrical arcs. Why, even I had run afoul those habits, even when I merely tried to show her my appreciation.

But if there were people enabling her bad habits, un-maidenlike demeanor and (I was sad to admit) tendency of disregard to the law, then I had to act quickly before she was drawn into their criminal morass. Even worse, was there one among them who would dare take advantage of Onee-sama's innocence?

My subtly probing question struck upon the truth of things in the worst way! Rather than a sound rebuttal there was blushing and stuttering and denials that rang hollow. Oh no. There really was some fiend that had laid his dirty paws on my Onee-sama. Only metaphorically, I hoped, but I could not be sure because Onee-sama put a violent end to my gentle and empathetic expression of concern.

I could not sleep that night because of the terrible waking nightmares that painted themselves before my inner eye. What if, what if!

The next day she got a suspicious message on her phone that seemed to strike her with fear. What could scare my Onee-sama, the Ace of Tokiwadai, so? Thus, when she ran off right after school I employed my skill as an agent of Judgment to shadow her. Purely for her own protection, of course.

But Onee-sama evaded me and I could not find her until she returned to the dorm, thoroughly discombobulated. Something clearly was weighing on her heavily, but once again she refused my offer of a sympathetic ear and heart. She would not even accept the comfort of my body.

I tried to point out that someone who made her so sad, despondent and enraged in turn couldn't be good for her. Unlike me, someone like that clearly had wicked designs on her! But she refuted me with some heat, only to immediately reverse course as soon as I tried to nail her down on which 'he' we were talking about.

That fiend clearly had sunk his claws deeply into my Onee-sama. Something needed to be done.

When Uiharu and Saten came across the date I had planned to bring Onee-sama's mind to more pleasant things (such as myself), after my initial annoyance I realized that this might be the key. In a time like this I couldn't keep Onee-sama's light all to myself.

The friendship of respectable girls like Uiharu (and Saten too, as long as she kept her fingers to Uiharu and away from my Onee-sama) might be just the counterbalance she needed to escape the bad crowd she'd fallen in with.

It seemed like it might work at first. Onee-sama seemed happy to get to know other people. For some reason few at Tokiwadai appreciated her as much as she deserved (though I was also happy that there were no clear competitors for her affection there). We met up a couple of times and even had an adventure of sorts (though I still think Onee-sama should have left it to Judgment instead of just bulling through).

But Onee-sama still refused to speak of Him.

So, at my wits' end, I convinced Uiharu to hack the bus fare system and just a few security cameras. And finally I found her.

Walking with him. Laughing. Showing an expression that I wished she would show me, her devoted partner.

There he was, the fiend. Clearly a delinquent with bleached hair, wearing not the uniform of a respectable school but highly questionable clothes, shamelessly emphasizing his build.

I could not help it, I could not watch this travesty any longer, I had to act!

Onee-sama was surprised by my appearance, but it appeared she retained a remnant of modesty, immediately distancing herself from that man.

I went to introduce myself, making sure my Judgment armband was clearly visible. Grasping his hands in a Western-style greeting would be a convenient way to convey my intentions to protect Onee-sama from all who would do her harm - after all, my ability worked by touch and any esper of quality would clearly perceive the potential threat.

However just before making contact a sort of intuition, gained from my experience against unruly and dangerous criminals, warned me: Dangerous! Dangerous like no one I had ever faced.

So I smoothly segued into a curtsy like we had learned in etiquette class. And I made sure to make it clear in my introduction, that Onee-sama was mine

But he, he just smiled! Indulgently, amusedly. As if I, Shirai Kuroko of Judgment, was nothing but an amusing diversion instead of Onee-sama's avenging knight!

And then he cleverly turned Onee-sama against me, exploiting her easily embarrassed sense of propriety. Maybe I had gone a little too far in being so public with what was our own private affair. But… life partner, the words were like the manifestation of that golden future that awaited us. I had to call upon all my discipline as a member of Judgment to stay strong.

This one was truly dangerous! Not just with whatever esper power he possessed but also in manipulation. That was probably how he had fooled Onee-sama. Along with his looks, which weren't all that bad, I supposed, if you were into athletic older boys with exotic features. And, possibly, the mysterious so-called 'bad boy appeal' we were always warned about but which I had never understood.

I called him out on it, of course. But once again he dismissed me and claimed to be the first-ranked of the Level 5s. That… was not a claim one could make idly. It was the sort of thing that invited terrible retribution if it was a lie. And Onee-sama, who definitely should know, seemed to believe him.

Even so, disbelief was as good a pretext as any to escape from this situation. I needed to regroup and formulate a strategy. I needed to save Onee-sama before he pressured her into something irreversible!

For some reason Onee-sama didn't appreciate my extraction of her from that situation as much as I'd hoped. She even apologized to that guy by text. But that was alright. If it was for Onee-sama's happiness then I'll gladly be the villain and bear the blame.

Uiharu and Saten on the other hand were no help at all, the traitors. Sure, Uiharu confirmed that boy's identity with her remote access to the Judgment and Anti-Skill networks. But that was where her support ended.

I'd known before that Saten had a wicked mind and that Uiharu was susceptible to flights of fancy where notions of nobility were concerned, but I'd hoped for a bit more loyalty from them.

They thought it was romantic! Uiharu started spinning wild fantasies of knights and ladies and princes. They thought it was fitting that a noble lady like Onee-sama would command the interest of the #1. And when I pointed out that he was a delinquent for sure, all she did was switch tracks to construct some sort of 'Black Knight' narrative, which I took to mean some sort of criminal with good intentions.

What romance could there be in Onee-sama being in the grasp of an overpowered knave like that rather than in the arms of her beloved, loyal Kuroko? It just did not compute.

Onee-sama shut them down eventually, claiming that it wasn't like that while imitating a tomato. But I found her denial suspiciously weak. She didn't even shock them like she usually did to me when I moved too quickly for her maidenly heart.

He was a friend of hers and a good person, she claimed.

They were working on developing their powers together, she said, the way only a collaboration between Level 5 espers could. And that was why her System Scan metrics had soared so quickly. ("Teach me, senpai!" Saten had interjected with a devious expression)

She had been helping him with volunteer work today, helping take care of a group of orphans, she claimed. (A transparent ruse to tug on Onee-sama heartstrings, I thought.)

Then Onee-sama forcefully changed the subject and Uiharu and Saten acquiesced. I did too, outwardly, but inwardly I planned and plotted.

Since Onee-sama seemed far too comfortable with that boy, I couldn't come off as too combative. In fact I should apologize for the misunderstanding the next time we meet and pretend to play nice. Then I would be in a position to 'accidentally' get in their way and to uncover that boy's dark secrets to show Onee-sama how badly she'd been taken in.

Afterwards, when Onee-sama was disconsolate with having discovered that boy's lies and how she had been fooled by a wicked scoundrel, her beloved Kuroko would comfort her. Would hold her and caress her and show her the joys of womanly love… no, no, don't think about that too much while in company, keep that for a private moment.

But I still wondered: Was there some truth to Uiharu's random claim that Onee-sama would not consider someone below her Level? Would I have to cross the vast and terrifying gulf to Level 5 to be worthy of my love?

AN2

Yes, Kuroko. It couldn't possibly be because your all-out attack approach or, you know, the sexual harassment make her uncomfortable. Or because you don't match her preferences. No, the problem has to be something different…

One-Way Road - Accelerator SI vs. the Toaru-verse Black Phoenix - A Harry Potter OC SI via Waifu Catalogue

The Pendragon Contingency - Warhammer 40K SI as DAoT!Arthur Pendragon Cosmic's dreams of distant worlds - Snippet archive

One-Way Road 14 - Mechanicus II

"Economics City? They really are trying very hard to imitate us. Or is that a translation issue?"

Mikoto's laugh sounded from the speaker over my workbench. "It sounds that way, doesn't it? Even Academy City isn't as weird as this, though. There is this thing they call 'semipublic AR' with screens and cameras covering every surface from the sidewalk to the building facades. It's really annoying."

"A real life panopticon?" With my power spread throughout the chemical apparatus before me I adjusted some of the reaction and permeability vectors in ways that would be hard to match even with Academy City technology. "That has to be uncomfortable."

"Tell me about it!" Mikoto clearly had a need to vent. "Unless you opt-out they can actually use the information and video feeds for all sorts of things. Even targeted ads for lingerie and stuff, in broad daylight! These people are cracked in the head!"

Carefully I avoided both laughing or letting my imagination drift too much. "I'm sure you showed that system who's boss though, right?"

"… kind of." Mikoto sighed. "And now I'm supposed to just stay in my hotel room like a good little girl until it's time to be paraded about on stage."

This time I laughed out loud. "They clearly don't know you very well." Flicking a finger I used air currents to hit a couple of keys on the keyboard on the table to my left and look something up. "You know, there is a group of Sisters stationed at Lomonosov Biochemical Synthesis in Economics City. If you want someone to show you around, I'm sure they'd be up for it. Or," I joked, "if you just want to see a familiar face…"

"Hah, hah," Mikoto pronounced, in good humor. "Maybe I will. Even if they can be complete gremlins at times, they sort of grow on you," she added fondly.

"That they do," I agreed. All I had wanted was to do right by them considering their circumstances, and now I was stuck with the Sisters. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Mikoto hummed thoughtfully. "Although… if they're already here, then why did the school have to send me as well?"

"They probably could have one of the Sisters on stage, but they want it to be impressive - which means it has to be you, doesn't it?"

"I guess…" By her tone I could easily imagine her expression torn between annoyance and being pleased by the recognition.

"Oh, by the way, if you run into foreign ability users, don't underestimate them. I've heard some weird and concerning things about the foreign programs."

We exchanged a few more pleasantries before ending the call. Mikoto was raring to go out and give her handlers headaches and I returned to my chemical work.

Russia, huh? Lucky her, getting to travel outside the city. I hoped she had a good time and brought back some interesting stories.

My original nootropic regimen had already been a witch's brew that was at least fifty percent rocket fuel, and highly calibrated to my particular brain chemistry. Going much further inevitably ran into issues, be they biological limits or mounting negative side effects.

It was the bootstrap problem. You could optimize individual subsystems, but for a holistic increase in intelligence you needed to grasp the holistic theory of mind for both the baseline and augmented state, but do it with your current intelligence. Conventional thinking was that only virtual composite minds that significantly exceeded both, like the collaborative scientific efforts of large groups of scientists armed with cutting edge AI technology, had a chance to make any progress there.

Of course, all of that was before my awakening of sorts back in January. Along with the extranormal modes of cognition now available to me, my brain chemistry had slowly begun to further diverge from the human baseline. Which was concerning to say the least, considering that my drug regimen wasn't calibrated for that and that I couldn't involve any experts in pharmaceutics or neurosciences without significant risk.

So there was no other way than for me to work things out for myself. Tracking the changes wrought by the higher dimensional quantum effect processing that I suspected was going on so I could figure out how to best improve on what my brain was becoming.

It was something I'd never have dared to even attempt, if I wasn't able to perceive the working of my own central nervous system down to subcellular gradients in charge and neurotransmitter concentrations.

The higher dimensional subtleties remained something I could barely scratch the surface of without being drawn into endless twisting mirror mazes of thought, but they arose from the physical substrate. And thus artificially supporting, stabilizing and constructively directing the biophysicochemical processes underlying higher cognition would have a positive effect.

It had been slow going since any misstep here could have terrible consequences. Already it was sometimes quite difficult to hold back the less than helpful impulses that came with this sort of hypercognition. Mania, megalomania, emotional instability, disregard for ethics or moral boundaries, I had clamped down on that as best I could.

My new regimen, the tests of which the Heaven Canceller had kindly consented to oversee and help evaluate, was actually more conservative than my old one. In return, together with my internal body control, it headed off quite a few potential problems, balanced out some of the undesirable side effects of hypercognition, and was calibrated for stable and sustainable performance.

The end result still eked out a few percent over the previous regimen in several metrics, even accounting for the rising baseline. Even with realtime mPET-fMRI and other methods the scientists that had composed it simply didn't have the resolution that my vector field perception could grant and had to account for margins of error.

It did mean that I had to recalculate the dosages on the fly following an internal analysis every time, but that was easily done. Also I had to synthesize the various compounds myself, though that was more to shield myself from betrayal. I had patented the newly derived nootropics, of course, and hoped that I wasn't responsible for kicking off a new round of unethical experiments somewhere.

With the complex chemical apparatus before me ticking and puffing away happily under the influence of my vector control field I turned my attention to the first output. It was a truism in the pharmaceutical industry, that drugs could never be 100% safe because if you checked every single pill to make sure there were no mistakes in the process then you had none to sell. But my methods were not so limited.

When the knock at the door came I was just looking over the set of twelve glass tubes with samples of a clear fluid that in my psychic perception glowed faintly in different hues. The liquid precursor to Crystallized Esper Essence, extracted from Dr. Kiyama's comatose student by means of my vector control.

Berserk abilities was how the substance came to exist. And berserk abilities was what the Ability Body Crystal had caused in the victims of the experiment. A vicious circle had seemed like a reasonable hypothesis. But relieving the patients of the dangerous liquid infused with what felt like a different form or energetic phase of IPD fields hadn't brought about any changes in their status so far.

"Uh, boss?" The voice of Noya Yoshiaki, my chief engineer, came from the door.

Yoshiaki had been by far the most qualified applicant I'd gotten through regular channels. An engineering polymath graduated from a respectable university and even in possession of a synergistic esper power, Level 1 Mental Blueprint. He'd been a plant intended to spy on me, of course.

But, with his debt now owed to me rather than the questionable people who'd acquired it and his sister transferred to a much safer school, I was reasonably sure that if he betrayed me now it wouldn't be by choice. And I had logged enough data on his microexpressions, vital signs and voice patterns that the only way he could lie to me was if he was under mind control.

"Yes, what is it?"

"There is some guy back at the loading bay who says he absolutely needs to speak to you in person. Claims his name is John Connor, but doesn't want to say what it's about."

Looking over the tubes once again I sighed, then locked them away in the dangerous materials safe. A quick check of the outside cameras showed nothing suspicious, nor a pulse of the lidar and terahertz radar I'd put on the roof. Just a high-school age boy with bleached hair and a pierced nose, nervously wringing his hands next to a beaten up old van parked in the loading bay.

"Alright, I'll see what he wants."

"Thanks, boss." Yoshiaki insisted on some form of respectful address and since I couldn't claim an academic title, that was what he'd settled on.

I didn't mind. He did good work and I knew I wasn't the easiest superior to work under, no matter how tightly I tried to control my sparky tendencies. ~~Good minions were so difficult to find.~~

Mr. Bleached Hair carried nothing on him but his clothes. No weapon, not even a phone. So I waved for him to come up into the loading area assigned to my rented lab space.

Up close he looked even more nervous than he had on the camera. Not obviously fidgeting but sweating and with nervous tension throughout his body.

"Thank you, Mr. Accelerator, sir," he began as the door closed behind him. "Umm. Are we safe to talk here? I mean, really safe? No electronic devices that could be bugged anywhere?"

Narrowing my eyes I frowned. What could this random bozo have to say that would call for such measures. Wait, John Connor. Was this about… ?

Snapping my fingers in a casual gesture a swirl of darkness began to spread outward. Slowly at first, mostly for dramatic effect, then quickly engulfing the both of us in a darker than black shroud of isolation.

Or at least, that's how it looked to him. I wasn't about to surrender all awareness of my surroundings so easily. It wasn't like there was any sort of trick someone like him could pull on me if this was some sort of ploy or he was a random lunatic, but still.

There was no light except to see one another, no sound or other vibration except our words. Complete nullification of the rest of the EM spectrum, gravity fluctuations and everything else that could carry a signal. Even IPD fields apart from my own were excluded, or in his case contained, with prejudice. We were the only two figures that existed in a realm of black nothingness.

"Alright. Talk."

"What the fuck?" If he had been nervous before now he was on the verge of panic now. "What did you do?"

"You came to me, the #1, and wanted maximum security. This is me taking you seriously. Don't make me regret it."

"Alright, alright," he stammered. "I can deal with this. No different from having a bunch of guns pointed at me, really. I can deal with this."

He repeated his reassurance a couple more times, more to himself than to me, before managing a somewhat credible facade of equanimity.

"Alright, so… My name is Hamazura Shiage. I'm coming to you on behalf of my boss, Komaba Ritoku." He paused for a moment as if I should recognize the name, then winced when I gave no indication. "He's, I mean, we're the largest Skill-Out group in the city, but that doesn't really matter. The boss wants to cash in on the bounty you set on information about a group of murderous espers."

"Go on, I'm listening." I could feel a smile forming on my lips at the thought of possibly getting some actionable intel for once. John Connor, was it? Smash those metal motherfuckers? Someone was a fan of ancient movies.

Hamazura looked as if he wanted nothing so much as having this over and done with. In retrospect, making my anti-surveillance technique into a power move like this was probably not making the best impression. ~~Even if it served him right for interrupting my Science! time.~~Way to poke at some trauma, apparently, and confirm Skill-Out prejudices.

"So, the boss has connections with other Skill Out groups all over the city. He hears a lot of rumors. That's how he got a hold of this piece of info: There's this Skill-Out group in District 10 by the name of Big Spider. Their leader Hebitani bragged about having scored some sort of anti-esper technology. Apparently he'd had dealings with some high muckety-muck at MAR. But then things got stranger.

"Normally when Skill-Out strikes back at some son-of-a-bitch esper," Hamazura briefly winced but seemed relieved when I didn't react, "well, we put them in the hospital. You know, teach them a lesson. But Big Spider's targets, they started to just disappear. And not just espers, but people from other Skill-Out groups too. Normally in tussles between groups there are bruises and broken bones, maybe a stab wound or two. But Big Spider suddenly had people with combat grade cybernetics and zero chill.

"And then all of a sudden things got real quiet in District 10, at least so far as people were willing to tell. 'Everything completely normal,' they said. 'Just business as usual,' even when it clearly wasn't. And that was when the boss thought about those brain-fucker espers you set that bounty on."

"Big Spider, huh?" Never heard of them, but I'd be taking a look through my tap into the Anti-Skill network soon enough. "Do you have locations, numbers, anything concrete?"

"Ah, well, we know where Big Spider used to have their base. Some of the other groups, too. But that's about it." Hamazura shrugged. "Anyway, if it's those metalfuckers trying to take over District 10, that sort of thing isn't something we can deal with. But if it's you…" He shrugged. "Well, just pay out that bounty before you go and croak or something."

Apparently he'd found his courage enough to quip now and I laughed. "I'll make sure to set something up in case I don't come back. But in that case I'd recommend getting the hell out of dodge."

"Umm. I'm supposed to report on whatever's going down and come back with the cash. It's my skin if I don't…"

That name of his had seemed familiar and now I remembered. In my other memories he'd featured in one of the side-stories, hadn't he? A gangster with a heart of gold or something? Or at least a criminal with standards and, more importantly, a truly outrageous degree of luck.

My other memories insisted that luck and good fortune were real supernatural phenomena. So why not? Maybe I'd see something interesting. And if his lead bore out I'd be revealing some of the cards up my sleeve anyway.

"Well, then you better stick with things until it's all over but counting the body bags." I started letting the sphere of isolation around us dissolve. "Good thinking, not bringing a phone, by the way."

"The boss confiscated it."

"In any case, keep up the OPSEC until this is through," I instructed before letting my field retract fully.

Released from my power he staggered a little, then bowed over to put his hands on his knees and take a few deep breaths. "That shit is really unnerving, you know."

"Occupational hazard," I quipped, then gave a decisive nod. "Good interview." The security cameras in my own building should be relatively safe but you never knew. "I can use a gofer. You're hired."

The first reconnaissance results were in and the verdict was clear: There was a major cult facility in District 10, significantly larger and more active than the one I'd previously encountered.

It may have slipped through my admittedly less than tightly knitted net, but once I had a location confirming it wasn't hard. Their spatial distortions didn't show up on the city's graviton detector satellites, but with my sensor crystals in long-range configuration pointed at the building in question I'd confirmed the signature of their portals after only a few hours.

My genetically modified and Testament-conditioned pigeons could scent-map a number of distinct anomalies, including a few signatures matching the oil and hydraulic fluid exclusively used by magos-class cyborgs.

My similarly modified rats had confirmed that at least two Skill-Out bases were engaged in activities such as sorting, testing and distributing truckloads worth of guns of unfamiliar make. They were suspiciously organized and motivated, not a single one lazing around or complaining, and nearly all of them bore cybernetic limbs or other enhancements.

And careful mark one eyeball surveillance aided by vector field lensing from multi-kilometer distances revealed a pattern of additional visitors to the purported 'biomedical research facility'. People came in and they left with cybernetic arms, legs or other implants. More people came than ever left, too. Maybe the ones that didn't come out were in for longer procedures. I'd had the location watched for less than a day. But my intuition told me it was nothing so harmless.

For neither the presence of those implants nor the reported pattern of disappearances to have popped up on my radar, clearly the cult had some deep hooks in city surveillance systems and Anti-Skill communications.

But for them to have evaded my search through means not susceptible to such interference, that was bad luck. My branetwist detectors were too short range for total coverage. And the sweep with my new pigeon minions hadn't reached District 10 yet, so I'd probably have come across them within the next two weeks. Still, by then they might have moved on, so it was good that I hadn't neglected the HUMINT angle.

And now finally, finally I'd get to wipe out that black mark on my record and annihilate those fuckers once and for all. Hopefully while the number of their victims was still only in the hundreds.

I̶t̸ ̶w̸a̸s̴ ̷t̸i̷m̵e̷ ̶t̷o̶ ̶p̶u̷l̷l̷ ̸o̸u̴t̴ ̴a̶l̸l̷ ̷t̶h̷e̵ ̸s̷t̴o̴p̴s̷.̶

"M-Mugino," the girl in the pink tracksuit alerted her boss, a quaver in her voice. "Something is coming."

As expected, even with my IDF contracted to the limit of my ability, I still couldn't entirely avoid Takitsubo Rikou's clairvoyance. I could narrow the IDF, contract it, fold it in upon itself ten to twelve times to compress its expression in conventional reality down to a minimum. But that outermost layer remained detectable, sort of like Hawking radiation from a black hole.

She pointed vaguely in my direction down the row of parked cars. The top level of the multi-level parking garage was mostly reserved for long-term parking, so there was little traffic. The perfect place for a shady meet up.

"The client?" The leader of the group was also the tallest and curviest of the four girls, though sadly her beauty masked a rotten character. "Or an enemy?" She turned slightly in my direction, not seeming particularly concerned.

But then with her ability annihilation was always but a thought away. This was Mugino Shizuri then, the #4 Level 5, Meltdowner.

"I don't know." The clairvoyant frowned. "It feels strange. Dangerous."

"That's less than super clear," the third girl complained half-heartedly. Stepping forward from where she'd been leaning against one of the concrete pillars, the hood of her shirt slipped back to reveal short brown hair in a bob cut. Kinuhata Saiai, Level 4 Offense Armor, my other memories supplied.

Before the mercenary group called ITEM could descend further into bickering I stepped around the last corner and into their field of vision. With the sound of my footsteps dampened and the pale minimum lights emphasizing my unusual pale coloration, I probably made for a strange figure in the shadowed parking garage.

"Yo." I lifted a hand in greeting as I approached.

The girl in the hooded shirt had casually stepped in front of the clairvoyant, arms held at her side in a neutral but ready stance.

Observing them from a distance through redirected light they had seemed an eclectic group but not particularly impressive. Up close however I could feel the tightly leashed ferocity in Meltdowner's IPD aura like the radiation of a poisonous star. With all of them focusing their attention on me at once I could intuit something of the capacity for violence these four held within themselves. Despite their youth they were hardened and experienced killers.

Good.

"Hey, hey! You're the client's security?" The fourth of the group, dressed in a sailor top and a skirt, jumped down from where she had been sitting on the hood of one of the more expensive cars, her long blonde hair flying behind her. That had to be Frenda Seiveluun then, ITEM's demolition's expert.

A reasonable assumption, but no.

"I'll want to make sure there's no one listening," I said simply, stopping a couple of meters from the group. Despite being addressed by the younger girl my gaze was fixed on the Meltdowner. Asking first would avoid potentially violent misunderstandings.

Mugino said nothing but made a dismissive gesture with one hand and tossed back her long brown hair.

With permission given I tapped my foot once, a pulse of vector manipulation propagating through floor, pillars and ceiling to close off a generously sized space around us from direct observation. Not a dramatic occlusion, as with Hamazura, but a blurring and subtle twisting. In addition the pulse also triggered the devices I'd placed before ITEM's truck had even arrived.

A faint electronic hum rose until it disappeared beyond hearing range. A muscle twitched on Mugino's face. Something like that wouldn't remain unnoticed by a Level 5 Electromaster, even one focusing purely on destructive applications. The effects were not obvious, but there would be no recording or electronic communication of any kind now. And if they cared to check their truck at the end of the row, they'd find its systems dark and their support personnel asleep.

"I am the Accelerator," I introduced myself. "And I am the client."

None of them were unaffected by that, the name sending jolts of tension through all of them apart from Takitsubo who just frowned vaguely. With a Level 5 on the team it wasn't often these people encountered threats that might potentially outclass them.

For a while I had actually considered taking a new civilian name since the old one was forgotten and purged from all records. Their reactions illustrated one of the reasons I'd decided against it: Accelerator was a name of power. Power not just in its social impact, but over the inner and outer world as well.

That was why espers gave names to their abilities, names that defined their personal expression of inner divinity. It started as autosuggestion, but by the time someone reached Level 4 or Level 5 it was more than that.

It stuck in my craw a bit to think that the devils at the Special Ability Institute might have known what they were doing, but it was entirely possible that self-identifying only by my name of power through my formative years was one factor contributing to my extreme outlier strength.

"No way!" Seiveluun exclaimed, eyes wide in an expression of exaggerated surprise. "Are you for real? Hey, can I get an autograph? Pretty please?"

So she was the type to overplay any uncertainty by immediately going on the attack then.

Kinuhata was perhaps the most affected, or at least she wasn't as good at concealing it as Seiveluun. She took a half-step back, her arms twitching as if suppressing the instinct to assume a defensive stance. Her power on the other hand leaped to its full expression, taking control of the nitrogen in the air around her and turning it into a near-absolute barrier. There was something strangely familiar about it.

And rather than fear there was something complicated in her eyes and microexpressions that I couldn't quite decipher. Very curious. Had I met her before?

Through the antics of her team Mugino Shizuri had remained stoic, though I hadn't missed the sharpening of her presence like a sword drawn from the scabbard. She was entirely ready and willing, eager even, to throw down with someone who outclassed her. That was exactly the attitude I'd need.

"Takitsubo?" Mugino prompted without taking her eyes off me.

The girl in the tracksuit tilted her head slightly, her dreamy gaze fixed on something beyond me.

Confirm my identity, was it? Smoothly I unclenched the manipulation of my IPD diffusion field, and let it bloom around me. Simultaneously I opened wide my own extrasensory perception.

Takitsubo's breath hitched and for a couple of seconds she looked as if she was staggering, trying to hold herself upright against a howling storm. Then she caught herself with wide eyes and gave Mugino a single, sharp nod.

What did my own IDF appear like to her Aim Stalker, I wondered. Hers was the strangest I had ever perceived, bar none. Not even Kiyama Harumi's chimerical horror had been as difficult to grasp.

Unlike your usual psychokinetic or clairvoyant's which would have a clearly defined aspect that I could perceive in terms of color or texture or taste, this IPD diffusion field seemed to have none of its own. At the surface it was like an ethereal air, more illusion than reality. Colorless and simultaneously any color at all, shifting through iridescent shimmers where it interacted with others.

But there was a hidden depth to it. While seemingly without an identity of its own, there was a sort of higher dimensional recursiveness to it, always returning back to its origin no matter how much it shifted as if identity itself was bent into a ring. And by being so endlessly adaptable it permeated through other IDF with the lightest of touches, yet without limit to the depths it could touch upon.

That was probably how the signature move I knew of from my other memories worked. She'd get a grasp on her target's IPD field with hers permeating and intermingling through theirs and then adjust a part of her own field to match theirs so utterly and perfectly that they could resonate no matter the distance. And with that there was no range at all to her clairvoyance that, under normal circumstances, was probably limited to no more than a few dozen meters.

While I had been contemplating esoterica, Mugino had been eyeballing me.

"So. The Accelerator himself. What kind of job is it that you want ITEM for?"

"Yeah," Seiveluun broke in, to Mugino's clear annoyance. "What could you need lil' ol' us for? Aren't you the golden child of the higher ups, the almighty #1, and all buddy buddy with the Railgun, too?"

Keeping my eyes on the Meltdowner I ignored the dig from the side and kept to the bare facts. "The Railgun is out of town. As for the job: Assault on a hardened facility. Search and destroy priority targets, run them down if they try to escape. Recover data and technology samples."

Mugino hummed. "Really. Rumor has it you've gone soft. That you got cold feet at the thought of killing a few people and dropped the ball on some huge opportunity. Is that why you need professionals like us now?"

My laugh echoed through the parking garage and Takitsubo and Seiveluun flinched, though the latter hid it well. The Sisters claimed that I had a supervillain's laugh sometimes, but surely that had been an exaggeration?

"Is that what those Level 6 Shift clowns are saying? Accelerator won't play with us anymore, so he must be going soft? Sour grapes." I shook my head. "No, I want ITEM because anyone who goes in with me and isn't a total pro, a Level 5, or both, is just going to be dead weight."

I gave a nod of respect to Mugino. "Having someone along who can hold their own in this weight class would make things easier." Then I glanced at Takitsubo meaningfully. "But most of all I need the Aim Stalker in case one of them gets away."

"You're well informed for someone new to the business." Mugino conceded discontentedly, but with a measure of grudging respect.

Damn right, I'm well informed. Needle me with sly insinuations, I can poke you right back. Two can play at that game. Just don't ask me about my sources.

The exact capabilities of her secret weapon were surely something she'd prefer kept quiet. On the other hand, that and the implication that I would be going with or without them seemed to upgrade me above 'standard shady REMF client' in her eyes.

"Hmm," Seiveluun poked her cheek with one finger and played devil's advocate in a cutesy voice. "And if we don't wanna?"

I shrugged. "Then I'll pay you five percent for the meeting and another five to sit on your asses incommunicado while I do everything myself."

It went without saying that this wouldn't be good for ITEM's professional reputation, of course.

Seiveluun took a breath as if to keep poking, but Mugino cut her off with a raised hand.

Instant obedience even from the cheeky little devil, the Meltdowner clearly ruled her people with an iron fist. "Why didn't you go through our agent with this?"

I shrugged. "Simple. I don't trust her people or her communications not to leak somewhere. It's not like these lunatics have any backers of consequence, but they do have some nasty tricks."

The way Keitz had explained it to me, the agents of the various Dark Side outfits served not only as fixers and criminal service providers for body cleanup and the like, but also as liaison to the higher-ups. Jobs that didn't go through them ran the risk of stepping on the toes of powerful people without sufficiently strong backing on their side to avoid consequences. But if the pay was good enough or the job aligned with their preferences…

Mugino looked thoughtful for a moment, exchanging a few glances with her people in silent communication. Then she broke into a low chuckle, a bloodthirsty grin growing on her face.

"The way you're talking, and if it's you saying that, this might actually be an interesting challenge. Give me the details. Don't disappoint me now, Accelerator."

Next chapter it's the day bitches die. Didn't quite get there in this one without making it double-length.

Economics City = the Shopping Mall city from the Railgun sidestory. I don't think it had an actual name and we have Liberal Arts City and Baggage City, so…

I'm hoping I did an ok job of explaining how Accel hadn't managed to find the cult before now (apart from 'plot reasons'

Basically

1. Any kind of information channel involving electronic communication was hopeless. Reports to Anti-Skill got lost, missing persons reports got lost, or not reported beyond the local level, pattern recognition AIs didn't work, etc., etc.

2. Scanning for electronic signatures and cybernetics didn't work out well.

3. Trying to detect the signature of the branetwister's portals would have worked, but Accel couldn't get enough coverage to spin a net that would catch everything.

4. Using sparked up pigeon minions would have worked given another week or two, but that was the latest thing he tried and in the end HUMINT was faster.

One-Way Road - Accelerator SI vs. the Toaru-verse Black Phoenix - A Harry Potter OC SI via Waifu Catalogue

The Pendragon Contingency - Warhammer 40K SI as DAoT!Arthur Pendragon Cosmic's dreams of distant worlds - Snippet archive

One-Way Road 15

There was some dickering over the remuneration, of course. ITEM wouldn't be mercenaries if there wasn't. But I had accounted for that. Liquidity would take a hit, but not to the point of becoming an actual problem.

There was also a measure of doubt as I sketched out my projections on opposing force strength and numbers, best and worst case scenarios. Doubt and then worry. Considering how many espers had disappeared around District 10 alone over the last couple of months, the worst case scenarios went quite a bit beyond what ITEM usually faced.

But Mugino was determined not to be shown up.

Honestly, I wasn't sure how much help they would be apart from the tracking capabilities I lacked. But then ITEM were hired help, not even allies of convenience, and none of them would bother me much if they got shot full of bullets. Well, apart from Takitsubo whose ability I wanted a more in depth look at.

"First priority target: Codename Portal, real name unknown, Level 4-5 space manipulator," I continued my briefing, heedless of Seiveluun's increasingly worried look. "Armored braincase located in the torso of a fully cybernetic body. Two point five meters tall, multiple tentacle arms and tank-grade armor. He can bend space to divert attacks, manipulate gravity to crush targets or control the field, or rip space apart entirely to create portals and attacks that nothing physical can withstand. If he survives the first strike, then acquiring him for Takitsubo's tracking is the highest priority.

"Second priority target: Codename Guru, real name unknown, Level 4-5 technopath. Body configuration unknown, but likely also armored braincase in a cybernetic body. Unknown but powerful technology manipulation powers. Can likely control anyone with cult implants. Expect hivemind-type coordination, human wave attacks and multi-power combinations from controlled espers.

We were standing in a shielded basement around a holographic projector showing the public blueprints of the target building along with the other results of my reconnaissance.

"Rules of engagement," I continued. "The cult officers in cyborg bodies and red robes need to die. The crux is the outer circle of the cult. I don't have good intelligence there, but I anticipate that there will be a spectrum of civilians in the process of being inducted, then extensively brainwashed soldiers and full-borg elites.

"If there are civilian victims and inductees that can still be deprogrammed then I'd prefer to avoid needless deaths. But I won't be able to tell which are which until I get my hands on them. So, use your own judgment and do what you have to do to keep yourselves safe. If the situation allows however, try to disable them and dose them with one these injectors. That should incapacitate them and wipe their short-term memory too, so there won't be any problems with witnesses.

"After breaking the cult's backbone the second objective is retrieval - data, technology samples, anything that will help me in running down other cells. They are very fond of self-destruct systems, unfortunately. Thermite charges in computers and weaponry, demolition charges in the walls, the works. So your explosives expert also has her work cut out for her."

I nodded to the blonde girl that looked far too innocent to be the infamous plushie bomber. Seiveluun swallowed, for once without a quip.

The heavy silence that followed my words was broken by a low chuckle from Mugino.

"Well, I did ask for a challenge." She straightened to address her team in a tone of intense anticipation. "Sounds like we're going to war then, girls."

"Super hardcore," Kinuhata breathed and there was a murmur of confirmation from the others. Not all of them were as enthusiastic or bloodthirsty as Mugino, but they would follow her.

"To war it is," I confirmed with a malicious grin. "Now, following the initial bombardment…"

Neither Mugino nor Kinuhata had taken me up on the offer, but Seiveluun was all too aware of her mortality and had exchanged her "please underestimate me" dress for body armor. And Takitsubo hadn't put up a fuss when Mugino gave her a straight up order and now she looked like she had suddenly gained fifty pounds but was still trying to fit into her pink tracksuit.

"Do I want to know why you just had that stuff lying around in fitting sizes for them?" Mugino asked as we reconvened, prodding at me with a sardonic grin. She herself, of course, had stuck with her designer summer dress which fit surprisingly well with her combat boots. "Or do you take all the girls you meet on combat missions?"

"Hah. Now that you mention it…" I joked, thinking back to that paintball game with Mikoto and the Sisters. "But mostly I make it my business to keep on top of hardware developments."

By developing them myself, mostly. Part of aspiring to being a player and not a piece, I didn't say out loud. I was a minor one at best right now, but it was early days yet. No matter how big a beatstick my esper ability was, brute force alone wouldn't always be sufficient to achieve my aims and protect that which I cared about.

"You do have the nicest toys," Seiveluun concurred, joining us. "But couldn't you have had something more interesting than urban camouflage for this thing?"

Since I hadn't bitten off her head over the first few quips she was getting bold, it seemed. Well, that was fine. I'd rather people talk to me normally than worship the ground I walked on. ~~Unless I was in serious mode, in which case My Will Be Done and woe to any who'd challenge me.~~And she was amusing at times.

"More importantly, is that a super sword?" Kinuhata interjected, seemingly a bit less uncomfortable now. "Like in Undead Ninja Warrior 3?"

I myself was wearing a tactical harness over my usual clothes. Magical bag and a sheathed sword on my back, gun on my right side, an oxygen bottle on my left, and belt satchels with automatic dispensers on both sides. Plus a few more odds and ends in various pockets.

"Oh, oh~! He's the last of the Iga clan of ninja, that's why nobody knows his real name!" Seiveluun got excited with this line of banter. "And it's because of the ancient secret ninjutsu of his clan synergizing with Academy City science that he's the #1."

"I don't need it for cutting small fry," I said drily, not dignifying Seiveluun's nonsense with a reply. "But having a bit of extra reach can be convenient." I gave the close combat esper a meaningful look.

A bladed implement was certainly useful to focus certain power applications. But more importantly, if I encountered an effect too exotic and dangerous to risk touching, then I wanted to have something to poke it with until I adjusted my vector control field.

Only barely avoiding having a thirty centimeter hole put through my torso the last time I fought the cult's brane manipulator had thoroughly cured me of any overconfidence in that regard.

Kinuhata nodded thoughtfully, back to her serious and businesslike expression after that one blurt. Since, like me, her ability primarily expressed herself as an aura or barrier-type she'd be intimately familiar with the limitations. Which didn't matter much in my case, but most likely did for her.

Seiveluun however was not done joking around, probably trying to cope with nerves. "You should call him Accelerator-senpai," she exclaimed, looking back and forth between us with a curious expression. "In fact…"

"Time to move out?" Mugino cut her off sharply, evidently having had enough of her antics, and looked to me for confirmation.

I nodded. "Let's go."

The compass didn't look like much. Just a matte black metal sphere four centimeters in diameter. But with my vector field control suffusing it I could perceive the miniscule photon discharges inside the crystal underneath. That little flickering spark that marked the spatial distortion signature of the enemy's greatest logistical asset. He was here.

Drifting high in the sky above the facility in complete EM transparency I was the only one with eyes on all parts of the operation. Thus it was on me to fire the first shot that would mark the beginning of the assault.

I meant to make it count.

And I had prepared for this day. Oh yes I had. For months I had had to hold back on my ~~terrible vengeance~~counter strike.

The results were perhaps not truly impressive by the standard of the Sparks of Europa. But the laws of physics in this universe were not quite as forgiving, so to speak. And while I had a very impressive tech base to build upon, it still wasn't the same as working with the legacies of thousands of other enlightened minds and millennia worth of debris from previously deployed Imaginary Technology.

Besides, my own power could easily make up for any shortfalls.

Overhead, obscuring the sickle of the moon, dark clouds raced and built into dense, towering storm clouds in defiance of Tree Diagram's prediction. Charge differentials built at unnatural speed and gradients. High wind currents bent into layered spirals, folded upon themselves again and again.

Even Academy City's advanced satellites were blind tonight. They might conclude that I was doing something, but not what or where. The center of the preternatural storm was above District 7 to avoid tipping anyone off as to my target. Of course, as long as I maintained my control, shifting energy around was trivial.

The inconspicuous van carrying ITEM crossed the perimeter line, approached the building from the back and stopped in the loading area. The braking lights flickered three times, signaling their readiness.

And then a lot of things happened very nearly at once.

My left hand disappeared into the spatial knot of my magical haversack, opening it as far as it would. With a focused thought a football-sized metallic sphere touched my palm and rolled up my arm. A careful application of vector transformation flicked three mechanical switches deep inside: Brane Agitator armed. Self-destruct timer running. ICE Shell active.

The sphere plunged toward the roof of the building below in free fall. Five point eight seconds to impact. Six more spheres followed, one after the other, rolling up my arm before accelerating downwards, precisely calculated so as to match the others' arrival time.

When I withdrew my arm from the bag my hand was holding a thick bundle of six brass-colored poles, three meters from pointed tip to bulbous top. Once again there were three internal switches each. Pulling on the leather band bundling the poles together they separated to hang in the air before me for a moment. A pulse of six superpositioned manipulations and all six poles shot outward on diverging vectors before stabilizing into accelerated downward arcs forming a perfect hexagon. Four point one seconds to mark.

Finally I drew the sword from my back. After all the practice I had done the switch in perspective that made it as much a part of me as my arm was as good as instantaneous.

Vector field manipulation: Load brane distortion theorem revision 9. Use physical template (hyperalloy blade). Transform personal barrier, load distortion tensor. Execute. Repeat and superimpose. Processing. One, two, three thousand superpositions complete. Gravity shear ready.

Zero point nine seconds to mark. The tungsten-steel alloy blade at that point was very nearly invisible behind the gravitic distortion and the glaring white-blue glow that had gathered around it. In a flash I swung the archaic weapon three times, sending three arcs of stabilized razor-sharp spatial folds downward in a triangular formation.

Vector field manipulation: Adjust aerodynamic envelope from stealth to supersonic movement. Acquire kinetic force of high winds across fifty cubic kilometers of vector controlled supercell. Irresistible force sub-mode 'Kool-Aid Man'. Execute bunker-buster dive.

A Certain ITEM's Frenda Seiveluun

The refrigerated truck provided by the Accelerator wasn't as comfortable as ITEMs usual monstrosity that combined military grade armor, top of the line comms and luxury accommodations. But it was much more inconspicuous and, more importantly, entirely without electronics of any kind.

That had to have been a pain in the ass to do, Frenda thought to herself. Apparently the Accelerator had been preparing for a while to bring the hurt down on these people. She wasn't entirely sure she believed everything he'd warned them about, but it was clear that this wouldn't necessarily be the usual one-sided slaughter.

If the #1 considered them a threat, then someone like her, without completely OP superpowers, had to be at her best. Body armor wasn't cute in the least, but it was better than catching a bunch of bullets if ITEM was overwhelmed. She couldn't always rely on Mugino and Kinuhata to protect her, nor did she want to.

Sticking to the no-electronics rule sharply reduced her own options in some ways. But on the other hand she got to both use the vintage model grenade launcher from her collection and try out the new-type plasma gun!

She hadn't been able to get her hands on one of those through the usual channels, but the Accelerator had all the best toys. Even Takitsubo had gotten a plasma pistol pushed on her "just in case". How they were supposed to work without electronics she hadn't asked.

For someone with a reputation as checkered as his, he'd been surprisingly affable. Less high-strung than Mugino anyway, even if his indulgence may be rooted in complete dismissal of her as a threat. But she'd caught the implication that this hardware was his own work, so probing into that might get a different reaction. According to rumor he once had pulled out a guy's brain and entire nervous system from his body while keeping him alive throughout the process.

No. Better that she continue being the amusing jester of no consequence to him. Mugino he took seriously. Kinuhata's mostly professional attitude he seemed to appreciate. And Takitsubo, well, she basically had no idea what that was about, but he needed her unique ability. All in all, he probably wouldn't murder them over something like 'lack of respect' unless they seriously misstepped. First, though, they had to get through this thing alive.

The truck stopped and the driver, some boy with bleached hair and pierced nose, knocked three times on the divider. Mugino stretched at length, then looked to the rest of them. Kinuhata was already at the door, giving a sharp nod in response.

Frenda checked the safety of the launcher and flipped the power switch on her newest baby. "Ready~"

"Give the signal," Mugino ordered.

The driver tapped the brakes three times. Frenda counted the seconds. Three, two, one.

"Countersignal is given!" the driver called out.

"Move out!" At Mugino's command Kinuhata opened the door and ITEM deployed into the badly lit loading zone behind the Miwa University Neuropathology Research building.

Frenda was careful to remain in the back, behind Mugino who was taking point and Kinuhata ready to shield Takitsubo. As she jumped out of the back of the truck she caught some kind of glow high up in the air above them. A twinkling star was rapidly growing brighter in the night sky, then suddenly split into three arcs of glaring blue light that crashed down in a split second.

Twenty meters behind their truck one of the three arcs struck the ground, cutting through concrete, walls and buildings and deep into the earth like the ax of an angry deity. Fountains of gravel and dust shot upwards like walls on three sides around the facility and the earth shook. One, two, three times, so close together it felt like a giant was shaking the entire block.

Simultaneously behind the clouds of dust a curtain of shimmering blue and violet began to rise on all sides to enclose the area in a hemispherical energy barrier of some kind. It was like something straight out of a sci-fi movie.

Far above in the sky sheet lightning illuminated clouds that swirled with impossible speed. And just before the hemispherical barrier closed at the apex something shot down from the sky, striking the building like a bullet through glass.

The sonic boom merged with the impact and successive explosive breakthroughs into a single near-solid wall of sound. Frenda could imagine how it would look in slow motion: The windows blowing out floor by floor as something went through the armored concrete level by level like a rod from god, submunitions splitting off to shred whatever remained with secondary explosions.

Between the shaking ground and the blastwave they were all cowering close to the ground and behind the wavebreaker that was Kinuhata to keep their balance. Takitsubo had almost fallen but Kinuhata caught her by the shoulder. The others kept on their feet, but the momentum of their charge had been lost.

Automatically calculating explosive yields in her head, as she always did, Frenda swallowed.

Leave isolating the facility from reinforcements to him, Accelerator had said. He would punch straight through to the center of the enemy position, he'd said. Shock and Awe was to be their strategy, they'd all agreed.

Fuck, she wasn't even the enemy and she'd basically almost peed herself.

Mugino was less daunted, or at least reacted with anger and violence like usual.

"Go, go, go," she cried sharply. "I'll NOT have it said that ITEM couldn't keep up even four to one."

They stormed forward, stars of burning green forming in the air around Mugino, one of them growing to a size beyond anything Frenda had seen her use before. With clenched teeth Mugino brought her arms forward and burned a hole three meters in diameter straight through the reinforced outer walls, four internal walls and out the other side.

"There," she spit, "how do you like that? Let's go, people!"

As they closed in on the newly made breach, up in the sky beyond the curtain shield sheet lightning spread across the night sky from one horizon to the other.

And then lightning crashed down out of the sky onto the plasma curtain as if intent on pouring absolutely everything down in one place. Not one, not twice, but continuously over seconds and seconds, setting the barrier to ringing like a titanic hammer on an anvil.

"What the super shit?"

"Get inside, quickly! Oh fuuuu -" Mugino raised both hands and clenched them into fists surrounded by the green of her Meltdowner. And just in time as a tremendous pulse of something ripped through the entire interior of the barrier. Arcs of electricity sprang from the air and converged on her hands, leaving her team untouched. In return the circular bands of degenerate electrons had grown significantly.

"'Just a bit of EMP' my ass! I'll fucking kill him!"

Hopping over the red glowing remnants of some sort of metal reinforcement, Mugino entered the facility through the hole that she'd made and immediately started to blast pulses of green light at top speed. Sporadic gunfire answered along with the hiss-thump of plasma bolts.

"Get the fuck out of my way!"

Frenda exchanged a wide-eyed look with Takitsubo, then they followed. Outside lightning was still raining down in several other places, but that wasn't their problem.

The inside was a slaughterhouse of a battlefield. She stepped over the legs of what had probably been regular guards, normal apart from the metallic bones. Their upper bodies had been caught in Mugino's big blast and were completely vaporized.

Behind those their path was littered with the half-melted remains of a dozen or so androids. One of them still twitched with the arm holding the assault rifle and Kinuhata stomped it flat with a metallic crunch, sending broken pieces in all directions.

As usual with Mugino taking point their front was secure. There was some gunfire and the occasional explosion, but enemies simply didn't last long enough to be a problem.

But the back position was a pain, especially since Mugino's new tunnel through the entire building opened their path to far too many rooms and corridors, every one of which could be a path to come at them from behind.

Miniature claymore mines with wire triggers were Frenda's solution. Stick them to corners and door frames every couple of meters and as long as they left by some other way all would be fine. Add some pressure triggers here and there to mix things up and presto, instant death traps. She had to work fast to keep up, but, Level 0 or not, explosives were her thing. This much was easy.

She had to be careful about the demolition charges in the walls, of course. Someone had been really generous with those, but Accelerator seemed to have taken care of them already as they had burst open and unraveled from within. Somehow. In addition to all the other things she'd already seen him do today. Were there any limits at all to his ability? Frenda had thought that she had a good grip on the kinds of things a Level 5 could do, but now it seemed as if she'd been playing in the shallows and mistaken them for the ocean.

Ahead of her Takitsubo' dreamy voice announced: "Espers above and below, two of them Level 4 plus. One is fighting Accelerator down… there. The other is moving, ten meters up… there. Eight, no, nine others spread out there, there, there…" Judging from the weird shiver in her voice she'd already loaded up on Ability Body Crystal.

One more mine here - oh dear. Frenda winced. Behind the metal door was a large hall with multiple operating tables, many of which had been occupied. Cult soldiers or brainwashed victims, after Mugino had blasted the entire room with one of her Silicon Burn spreads it was impossible to tell.

One of the chirurgeons still lived and was laboriously rising, turning to present a visage of horror. He was missing his left arm, had multiple holes burned through his body, and his face was partially melted. Metal skull and bones were shining through under charred flesh, but he still got to his feet, terminator style. With empty holes where his eyes had been he couldn't possibly see a thing and yet Frenda was sure he was looking at her with undying hatred.

"Oh fuck." Hastily she disarmed the mine in her hand and scrambled to reach for one of the weapons hanging from their straps.

Blood rose from the puddles on the ground or burst from glass containers all across the operating hall, gathering in rivulets and streams to form a spiraling stream around the half-dead man. Correction, esper terminator, at least Level 3. An icy hand seemed to grip Frenda's heart.

Then the whine of the plasma gun leveled out and she squeezed the trigger for a full three round burst. The first glaring blue bolt demolished most of the blood shield the enemy esper poured in front of him. The second detonated prematurely and only blasted his right arm off. The third near vaporized everything from the waist up in a blinding blue fireball.

For a second or two Frenda just stared, mouth open. Then she let out a hysteric giggle. An inhumanly tough opponent with a high level esper power, cut down just like that - was that what it felt like to be Mugino, only all the time? Wow, what a high.

Gunfire sounded ahead and cut off just as abruptly under the screeching hiss of Meltdowner beams. "Stairs down to the basement, Takitsubo with me."

"Are you super coming or what?" Kinuhata's sharp rebuke from ahead brought Frenda back to the present.

"Yeah, sorry," she replied, still breathing heavily after that shock. "One enemy esper down."

Some sort of disorienting ripple went through the building coming up from below, making her stomach flip and almost causing her to stumble. What the hell was going on down there?

Making haste to catch up, Frenda reached the intersection. To the right were a set of armored doors blasted open and behind them the stairs down and the rest of her group. To the left a group of androids, led by a figure looking like some sort of steam-punk robot, all brass and hydraulics, were clambering over the corpses and broken machines Mugino hat littered the corridor with.

With a yelp she threw herself into a sidewards roll and just barely avoided most of the first bursts from the android's automatic weapons. Something punched her in the butt and upper thigh but she barely noticed. The world around her seemed to slow down in the grip of adrenaline and Frenda's gaze was pulled magnetically to the ludicrously oversized gun the brass robot was bringing to bear.

Heedless of the bruises she was sure to accumulate Frenda continued her roll down the stairs, but caught herself after the first couple of steps. "Nope, nope, nope!" Pointing the grenade launcher backward she squeezed the trigger with every word. Two concussive blasts and the roaring of an incendiary followed, then silence.

Well, from behind anyway. From downstairs it sounded basically like hell on earth.

Yomikawa Aiho frowned at the unfamiliar number on her phone. To have gone through her filter while she was on patrol it had to have a priority code, but if it was one of her superiors she'd see their caller ID and authentication.

"Yo," the voice of the Accelerator sounded. "I've found a couple of nests of those machine cult assholes. Skill-Out in District 10 is basically taken over completely. Their bases are at grid square C4, F7 and G12. If your colleagues are looking to get involved, then you might want to tell them to bring the good stuff. Those guys have truckloads of automatic rifles, grenades and shit. And they are rocking more cybernetics than clothes. Might be easier to cordon off the entire district, actually, and call in the military. Oh, and this is a recording, so spare me your lectures."

Another beep marked an incoming message with attached photos showing an alarming amount of weaponry.

That boy was going to be the death of her one day.

On the rooftop of a sixty story glass and steel building a kilometer and a half from the supposed Neuropathology Research facility a curious scene took place. Not that anyone would be able to see it behind the holographic cloak and the field-assembly Faraday cage that concealed their presence even from the omnipresent satellites overhead.

Five young girls in military-looking body armor and goggles were operating a number of dangerous looking mechanisms.

"'Mark,' announces Misaka, recording the beginning of the operation. 'Deploying drones.'"

Misaka 1 was standing at a large monitor showing the feeds from a number of drones along with the status readout for the mushroom-like piece of technology towering behind the group of Sisters in the middle of the roof.

"'No hostiles spotted on the ground yet,' reports Misaka while scanning the area."

Lying on a camping mat spread over a plastic box Misaka 13 was peering through the scope of a massive rifle that was resting on a tripod because it was longer and probably heavier than she herself.

"'Skies are clear,' confirms Misaka while hoping that enemy fliers will show themselves."

Misaka 103 and 104, working a crew-served plasma cannon, were slowly circling through 360 rotations to keep watch on the sky through their goggles.

"'As if we'll get to do anything,' complains Misaka, unresigned to being so far from the action." Moving the two disruption field batons in her hands through a kata of sorts, Misaka 55 looked near mutinous. "'Why did Accelerator station us here, when we could have helped so much more,' Misaka elaborates on her complaint."

"'That's because he worries too much, the dummy,' Misaka 1 explains fondly if a little conflicted. 'It was only because I pressed him that he acquiesced to letting us do more than operate drones and coordinate with Anti-Skill.'"

"'We are still untested,' Misaka 104 admits with some reluctance. 'Any good leader would be unhappy with risking his soldiers under these circumstances.'"

"'And we're much more than soldiers to him, in various ways,' Misaka 1 adds, cutting to the crux of the matter. 'He doesn't want to risk us.'"

There was a moment of silence and even Misaka 55 let go of her argumentative attitude.

It was Misaka 13 that broke the moment of fond remembrance. "'Even so it's only a matter of time,' Misaka states with dark premonition. 'You've seen the geopolitical analysis. You know the wartime contingency plans. Sooner or later casualties are inevitable.'"

"'I know,' admits Misaka 1, acutely feeling the weight of responsibility. 'Already there are foreign agents stirring up trouble in various places.'"

"'At least the Sisters in Economics City get to be part of the action,' Misaka 55 grouses, hoping that Accelerator will at least have time for another match if things remain dull here."

As if she had jinxed it, Misaka 13 cut through the chatter with a cry of "Enemy units spotted."

Ferroconcrete, shock absorption foam and steel armor. It might as well have been cardboard before me. I punched straight through the roof of the building and actually had to limit the destruction wrought to make sure the building would remain standing. Most of the energy of a storm supercell amounted to way too fucking much.

I bled off kinetic energy like crazy, conducting it through the armor paneling along ceilings and walls, and further propagating it through wiring, cables and pipes. In dozens of places the walls and ceilings burst open as they violently ripped themselves apart. Ideally I'd disable any hardline networks along with the self-destruct systems, but with less than a millisecond of contact my resolution was limited even in overclock mode.

The shockwaves of my passage interwove in unnatural patterns, navigating around corners with barely any attenuation and hitting humanoid targets with force proportional to how much of them was metal. Some were merely blasted off their feet, others got the vibro-hammer to the chest. I was under no illusions that I'd be able to 'save' anyone the cult had had in their clutches for long, but neither did I want to kill them all indiscriminately.

Six above-ground levels, then I broke into the first sub-level where my compass had located the source of the distortions. In a fraction of a second my eyes and vector field analysis took in the situation: A large hall of bare concrete, half of it littered with containers and piles of boxes. On the other side of the hall a complex circular construction reminiscent of a Stargate stood against the wall. Enemies… many.

Rather than scattering randomly the concrete debris from breaking through the ceiling whipped into tight spirals around me, then shot off on calculated trajectories. I turned my vector field inward to kill most of my momentum as I spun around to land on my feet, kinetic energy siphoning away to be transformed. Over my head the air imploded into rapidly spinning bands of plasma as I dumped all of that spare energy into electron excitation.

My gaze crossed that of the red-robed chief cyborg's photoreceptors across the hall and he reared back in recognition. Come to think of it, those over-large pauldrons and the elongated head with antenna bundles were new. Upgrades, was it? But evidently not enough for him to be happy with the idea of a rematch.

An unearthly vibration shivered through everything like the sound of a drum the size of a building. Sparks fountained from his back and he seized up as if in pain.

"Gotcha." Trying to portal out, were you? Not with my brane agitators causing destructive interference. Six were left now, one having burned out already.

Faintly I could feel the EM pulse from the plasma curtain I had set up outside washing through the building, but down here with the facility's shielding only half-way compromised the effect was next to nothing.

At an inaudible command those of the servitor androids milling around that were still standing after my debris-bombardement reached for their weapons. To my left a second red-robed cyborg, though smaller and with only two additional arms, moved boxes into place as mobile cover with a gesture. A telekinetic of some kind.

A group of dedicated combatants that had been practicing close combat moves under his supervision, their unnaturally smooth and fast movements suggesting significantly augmented humans, formed up and also reached for a multitude of exotic-looking weaponry. No hesitation, no delay, just machine-like speed and precision.

No reason to spare them.

My plasma halo explosively unspooled into a dozen supersonic streamers that whipped across the room in all directions. The sound of it alone would have been enough to disable unaugmented humans, possibly even to kill them. But my field just soaked it all up as concrete shattered under my feet and I cut through the chaos at Mach 1.2.

The further I had developed my perfected internal biophysics, mathematically optimal movement down to breath and circulation, the further my actual capabilities had pulled ahead of what muscle mass and nerve fiber speed could explain. It had to be a new aspect of my ability, one that was transparent to itself leaving me unable to perceive it except by its effect, Kenji and I had concluded.

Maybe studying the likes of Sogita Gunha's ability or trying to guide Mikoto along a similar path would tell me more, but the first hadn't been practical so far and the latter was a long term work in progress.

Understood or not, it made no practical difference however. Back then the cult magos' superhuman speed and exotic weaponry had posed a significant threat to me. Now he was the one on the back foot.

Breaking through the curtain of flames from a plasma streamer that I'd intentionally set to lose cohesion, I touched down one last time. A dismissive flick of my left brushed aside the discontinuity-edged power-blade and blasted off the entire mechanical limb it was mounted on. And then, with all the strength I could draw upon and all the kinetic energy I'd absorbed and circulated through my barrier, I punched straight through the cyborg's upper chest where I knew his braincase was.

Something rang like a titanic bell. A tone so deep that I felt it in my gut more than heard it with my ears. So clear and pure it seemed more concept than physical vibration of the air.

Unaccountably I found myself in mid-air flying backward. What. I stabilized myself, tornado-force air streams blasting from my shoulders as I redirected the kinetics and touched down. Tap. I hurled a few of the smaller boxes his way to keep him busy.

Vector field analysis: Time elapsed since recorded impact event, 0.3 seconds. Physics model simulation failed. Unknown material works according to aberrant laws. Profile incongruent with any of the 144 million hypothetical Dark Matter manifestations simulated to date. Significant divergence from all previously observed esper abilities. Most likely conclusion: Magic.

With my vector control field taking in a dozen times as much light as my eyes normally would, optimizing the optical processing and expanding the retinal layer neural calculations I could see the magos as if I was standing right in front of him and, if I wanted, magnify further.

There, at the bottom of the crater I had made of his chest, was a metallic sheen. A material that was shimmering, somehow, both scarlet red and lustrous gold. And despite the application of enough force to go straight through battleship armor it only bore the faintest impression of my knuckles.

How many fucking tricks did these guys have? How had they even gotten their hands on whatever that was and survived doing it? And what would it take to finally erase that shithead from existence?

All around me the underground cargo hall for the 'Stargate' was a scene of destruction.

The bare concrete was ripped open in huge tracks as if clawed by some titanic beast, the deepest parts still glowing red with heat. Shipping containers were carved open and their contents exploded all over the place, littering the ground with electromechanical components, prosthetics and implants in sterile packaging, and a multitude of weaponry. Secondary fires from where my plasma whips had touched off live ammunition still burned here and there.

Of the servitor androids only scattered pieces remained, but of the combat model cyborgs I mentally designated as skitarii more than half were still functional. Their magos must have managed a telekinetic shield strong enough to hold off the 8000C plasma. That was impressive refinement for his less than superlative strength, but annoying for me. Especially since I could already hear reinforcements trampling up the stairs from the next sub-level.

Something tried to reach into my chest aiming for my heart, but my reflection repelled the ability. In my mind's eye I could see streamers of faint metallic blue originating from the telekinetic magos to my left.

While my primary target took a few steps backward to stand beside the big circular portal, the skitarii began their attack. Two charged with blades and rotary saws popping out of their arms. The others let loose with ranged weapons: Plasma gun, micro-missile launcher, pulse laser, some sort of sonic weapon and in the back a sniper with an anti-materiel rifle.

The last one I actually put at the top of my priority list and side-stepped his first shot, just in case they had enough of that scarlet-gold material to use for bullets. The rest I ignored. No matter how inhumanly perfect the synchronization of their attack, raw attack volume per millisecond was not the way to defeat my reflection.

My hands dropped down to the large pockets on my belt left and right and with a quick swipe withdrew three small steel balls each from the dispensers.

Vector field control: Load Railgun emulation 'Hypervelocity Accelerator'. Six projectiles, continuous fire mode. Memory tree active. IDF condensation and gravitas injector, processing. Aerodynamic drive ready. Targets locked, adjusting projectile vectors in real time. First shot ready.

In my extranormal vision the projectile blazed like a little star in a color that would correspond to ultraviolet if it was actual light. The merest tap of a finger triggered the acceleration and it shot off at Mach 8 leaving a trail of pale blue. The skitarii sniper's head and upper torso disintegrated in a blast of light, the shockwave disrupting the others' machine-like cohesion.

Something hammered down on me from above, hitting my head and neck. A sort of pneumatic hammer driven by telekinetic tendrils, and programmed with a strange sort of vibration. Was he trying to reflect back my reflected impulse to set up some sort of resonance? Nice try, but no. A mental flick and the implements shattered under their own force.

The next two shots went straight into the telekinetic magos, going through his hasty weave of TK streamers like nothing. My 'Hypervelocity Accelerator' was derived from Mikoto's Railgun and just like their inspiration the projectiles carried a psychic charge that went beyond regular physics. So instead of hitting like a high powered bullet the shots vaporized fully two thirds of his body, sending arms and legs flying in all directions.

A second and a half had apparently been enough for my main target to recover from his failed attempt at fleeing by teleportation and now he stood before the circular gate. Huge energies converged along the metal frame as the mechanism fired, but then another nauseating spatial ripple went through the world and the magos staggered as if hit in the head. The stargate sparked and burst into flames in several locations. Only four brane agitators left now.

Of the last three shots two went into the gate, blasting craters a meter wide and three meters deep through the construct and the wall behind it. The last one curved aside at the last moment and missed the magos, whose pauldrons had lit up with blue radiance. Automatic spatial deflection? That meant I had to get in close.

The first of the blade-bearing skitarii arrived, closing on me between salvoes from their fellows. His augmentations gave him superhuman speed and agility. But not enough. In a flash I stepped into his lunge, gripped his right wrist with my left while my right delivered a palm strike to his chest that left his outer chassis unharmed but every bit of internal mechatronics and organs shredded. A rapid turn and I pulled out the blade-bearing arm and speared the vibro-blade through the other's head before he could adjust to my eye-dazzling movement. Not quite the Weirding Way yet, but give it time.

The ranged skitarii meanwhile, no longer shielded and coordinated by their superior, scattered. Most of them were already bearing the marks of their own attacks reflected against them. A swift swipe of my left sent a whip of supersonic turbulence their way while I drew the sword from my back and flashed forward.

Pillars of dark-gray stone burst from the ground in my path, obstructing my vision and getting in my way. They shattered into pieces as I went through three of them, but did require me to expend additional effort. That was new. Another cult esper trying to lock me down? Where was he hiding?

Recall background task, analysis of unknown magical material. Hypothesis: Material has the property of transforming and reflecting incoming energy. Hypothesis: Material actively interfered with vector control. Hypothesis: Material strength is partly 'conceptual' in nature rather than physical. Hypothesis: Active/reactive mental interference involved. Formulating tests to differentiate and confirm/falsify.

The last couple of meters between me and the magos seemed to stretch into dozens, but that was barely enough to slow me down. I could see the circuit lines on his legs already lighting up, but then I was on him.

Vector field control: Load battery of vector control probes into barrier extension. Prepare secondary line of defense: Total internal vector control.

Cutting through some sort of repulsion field buckler and the humanoid metal arm underneath, the tip of the blade just barely scraped across the scarlet-golden metal before the cyborg managed to step away in a swirl of distorted space.

Even so a clear note rang out in defiance of my external sound dampening and my probing implement was stressed with vibrations trying to rip it apart along unknown vectors. But I held the molecules in place against the backlash of magic against esper power.

Explosions in all manner of psychedelic colors exploded before my inner eye, like the raw feed of a series of particle accelerator experiments, and terabytes upon terabytes of unordered data in need of analysis filled my mental space. With the active internal control already adding significant load to my processing capacity that was less than trivial even for me.

Kicking off the wall I reversed course in pursuit, leaping from stone pillar to pillar and stopping only long enough to propagate my vector field analysis down to its source. Ah, there. A terrakinetic on the second sub-level, probably connected to eyes and cameras up here.

One hypervelocity accelerator round in deep penetration mode and that was that. I moved on, pulling ahead to put myself between the magos and the stairs. He would not get away from me a second time.

Footsteps from above announced the arrival of more combatants. But these ones were on my side, declared by the unmistakable screech and green flash as the Meltdowner blasted a bunch of newly arrived servitors from the level below.

"I have him," Takitsubo's voice came from further up the stairs.

The cyborg's head swiveled towards the newcomers like a servo-controlled turret, painted the area with radar, UV lidar and more, and a telepathic voice blared into our heads: "Curse you, Aleister's dogs. Can't you see that you're doing the butcher's work when we both are the same, but lambs raised for the slaughter? You should be working with us, not against us!"

Underneath the mental shout his speakers screeched like a dial up modem. Encrypted, but easy enough for me to break: "Database search. Threat detected: Takitsubo Rikou, Level 4 clairvoyant. Deus Ex Mechanicus OpSec imperiled, retreat contraindicated. Archmagos Janus to all units, designating tactical priority target."

Mugino answered with a sustained Meltdowner beam that was harmlessly bent aside to carve a molten trench into the wall to the cyborg's left. As if in slow motion I could see the weapon attachment for the spiral shot spinning up on his upper right mechadendrite. Mugino saw it too and transformed her beam to raise a wall of her warped electrons. But that would not be enough.

I finished cutting down a cluster of remaining skitarii with a thrown gravity shear and hurled myself backwards. And not a moment too soon.

The spatial discontinuity generated within the mechanism focusing the magos' ability spun out into a spiraling near one-dimensional thread that punched through Mugino's shield like nothing. But instead of boring a thirty centimeter hole through Takitsubo it impacted on my chest as I threw myself in front of the clairvoyant. ~~My research subject! There are still experiments to do to see what makes her tick.~~

The thread-like discontinuity cut through my shirt, left a squiggly line of red across my chest, then careened away upwards in a wild and erratic wobble, boring a tunnel through walls and ceilings. Slightly different from my approximation, but well within calculation.

"Takitsubo, back! Kinuhata, get her away!" There was real fear in Mugino's voice, her eyes straying between her teammate, her ineffectual shield and the glowing, fuzzy-edged borehole in the ceiling. I guess she did care for her people.

The clairvoyant herself barely seemed to have realized the danger under the effects of the Crystallized Esper Essence. There was a disconcerting emptiness in her eyes. Her IPD diffusion field was no longer smoother but somehow effervescent and where it touched on mine it felt like billions of nanoscopic teeth nibbling with hungry curiosity.

If a pyrokinetic's IPD field was a corona of flame, then hers was a utility fog of imperceptibly small nanites that could freely transform themselves and whatever they touched and consumed. ~~The freakier the subject the more interesting the Science!~~I suppressed a shudder and sprang forward once again.

My leap was accompanied by a Meltdowner blast from behind, even more powerful than before, but with the magos' pauldrons already alight a circular area before him two meters in diameter distorted into a mirror and the beam reflected straight at me.

That might have been unpleasant if it had caught me by surprise. As it was, as soon as I felt the beginning of the distortion I grasped the air before me and hardened it into a near-solid barrier, every vector under my sole dominion. Kinuhata's ability was really quite easy to duplicate, requiring barely any new math.

Vector field control: Previously formulated countermeasures for anomalous electron eigenstate superposition particle cannon incomplete, detecting bleedthrough: Terawatt range thermic and kinetic transfer. Redirect energy vectors into storage halo. Revise model of Meltdowner effect. Processing. Done. Implement control solution and adjust for abnormal tunneling. Shift reflection angle, done.

The twice reflected beam vaporized the floor under the cyborg's feet and then his legs before he managed to adjust his mirror field. Only then Mugino cut off the beam with a curse. Really, trying the same thing only more so? She was lucky that I was who I was or she'd be down one client and facing the space manipulator on her own.

Just to mess with her I adjusted the visual output of the plasma band around my left hand, where I had contained the ludicrous energy output of her ability, to the same frequencies as her own beams.

With the magos' legs destroyed both conventional and 'seven-league boots' movement were out. Time to cut him down to size. I continued my charge and shattered his spatial distortion mirror with the forceful normalization imposed by my barrier. The light of his left pauldron flickered and died.

Abruptly he was above me and flying straight upwards as the entire hall seemed to change orientation so that our side of the hall was 'down'. A landslide of corpses, debris and entire shipping containers began to fall down on us.

"Back to the upper level," I commanded, amplifying my voice to thunder over the absolute cacophony of a hundred tons of scrap coming down on us. "Keep your clairvoyant safe, they're targeting her."

Then I went from pinballing between falling boxes to active thrust, converting part of the tremendous energy saved up from Mugino's Meltdowner into flame-filled vortices blasting from my back. The magos juked aside, flying by way of personal gravity redirection even inside the altered reference frame. But he was clumsy and I had logged hundreds of flight hours by now.

"Work with the likes of you?" I finally answered his desperate attempt at psyops and gave voice to the hilarity in a burst of laughter.

The dogfight lasted no more than a few seconds and in rapid succession he lost three more arms to my blade, the merest touch being enough to conduct my vector control and rip his chassis apart as I kept laughing.

A tortured telepathic scream screeched into my audio centers and was auto-muted by my defenses. An accelerator shot to the head cut it off abruptly. Huh. Was his comm antenna in there? Now I'd have to find the telepath the old-fashioned way.

Whether it was the shock of losing all these parts of his chassis or because I had destroyed a relevant mechanism, the gravity inside the large hall snapped back to normal. The cyborg chassis, reduced to torso and a single humanoid arm now, hit the floor and skidded over the concrete, leaving a trail of scoring across the concrete.

In my mind's eye false-color explosions ran backwards, collapsing inward into singular points, before going off again in slightly different ways. They contrasted and superpositioned, but never quite resolved into an accurate model. I'd deliberately avoided going all-out since the first encounter with this magical shit and tried to make sure my opponent was too busy to strategize, all to get a few more seconds of calculation time. And still I had barely scratched the surface.

But then I didn't need to know what exactly made the stuff tick, nor all the hidden variables involved. All I needed was a vulnerability, a chink in the armor through which I could push enough energy to puree the enemy's wetware processor.

Hypothesis derived from incomplete analysis of scarlet-gold metal: Material is 'attuned' to opponent's esper ability to prevent disruption of their spatial manipulation.

I landed standing above the magos, weapon raised. Once more a stomach-churning ripple shivered through the room. He was getting better at cutting through the interference. Down to one agitator now.

"No. I have standards."

The magos raised his remaining arm in a desperate defensive gesture, surrounded by a chaotic rippling of space. The sword came down, wreathing itself in blue and violet flames as it cut through the last obstacle.

Vector field control: Apply distortion tensor to physical template. Modify IDF folding algorithm, override gradient of enemy field and infuse it into the superposition. Hammer, fold, repeat. Pattern welding unstable, adjusting. Processing. Two hundred folds, complete.

Once again the scarlet-gold armor rang like a giant bell, but this time the bell was cracked and ripped itself apart further with every millisecond of vibration until shivering to a stop. Physical force sufficient to pierce centimeters of steel and gravitic distortions enough to cut through meters of concrete still only drove the very tip of the blade through three centimeters of the unknown material.

But that was enough. My vector control domain expanded from the tip of the sword in grasping tendrils. Ephemeral and a little unstable at first, but then I visualized them like the fingers of my hand and they snapped into solid alignment.

"Goodbye."

The fingers of my mind-hand closed around the magos' brain, wetware and hardware both, and squeezed.

One down, but still more to go.

This chapter has gotten a bit larger than originally intended. Especially considering that it only covers up to the first 30 seconds of the actual assault. Of course, both Accelerator and his primary opponent are operating significantly above normal human speeds. I'm hoping that it doesn't come across as long winded or with too many digressions to break the flow.

Also, I looked up what it takes to vaporize cubic meters worth of stone/metal per blast as she does and Mugino's energy output is completely ludicrous. Not a problem for a forewarned Accelerator, though. That just gives him more energy to play with.

To settle the earlier discussion in the thread: If Mugino could somehow catch him by complete surprise and without active secondary internal defenses up, she could have seriously wounded him at least. Forewarned and/or with active defenses? Nope. And with his augmented senses and IPD field perception this Accelerator is very hard to catch off guard.

As a final note, I'm expecting that my update rate will slow down after this chapter. I'm starting to feel that my previous rate is not sustainable in the long term, especially if I want to also give some attention to Black Phoenix. Plus August is looking to be a very stressful month at work and I won't have as much time as before

Last edited: Jul 27, 2023

One-Way Road - Accelerator SI vs. the Toaru-verse Black Phoenix - A Harry Potter OC SI via Waifu Catalogue

The Pendragon Contingency - Warhammer 40K SI as DAoT!Arthur Pendragon Cosmic's dreams of distant worlds - Snippet archive

One-Way Road 16

For all the wondrous complexity and the miracle of human consciousness arising from them, brains ultimately were rather fragile. Neural lace, nanostructured carbon and quantum computing processors were slightly less so, but still not to the point of possessing any resistance worth noting.

Catastrophic damage to all thought substrates, biological and technological, as well as the life support mechanisms, I registered grimly. Victory may be sweet and the deed itself a tactical and strategic necessity, but an execution such as this… no. It was necessary, an inevitable result of the ruthless calculations I had begun, but ultimately there was nothing to be happy about.

Still in the grip of accelerated perception I could afford to indulge in a moment of melancholy before resuming my bloody work. How much uniqueness was lost to the world in this regretful waste of potential? But a strange phenomenon interrupted my brooding. A whisper of luminosity seemed to arise like motes of starlight between the notional fingers of my mind-hand.

Overclock, spark overdrive.

Time very nearly stood still. A stray bullet in my peripheral vision seemed to move at no more than a snail's pace across the room. Sound became something that arrived as individual pressure waves now and then.

Don't think. Feel. See not with your mind's eye, but with your soul. Don't calculate. Know.

Without consciously calculating IDF diffusion vectors or deriving the basis for the underlying imaginary vector space I seemed to still hit on exactly the right angle of perception.

A galaxy of light and meaning, uncounted stars and all the worlds they had illuminated, crumbled into ash and flickering embers before my eyes. Ejecta of information spewed forth from a dying mind like fountains of sparks into the void, there to dissolve as faintly lingering glows. Darkness spread. Thought by thought, memory by memory, structure by structure.

But long moments after all physical processing of information had come to an end, something endured still and defied entropy for just a little bit longer. A flickering star of reason and emotion, carved into reality beyond reality by the strength of the mind that created it: A personal reality. Deprived of the energy that fueled it and the cognition that shaped it, but not solely composed of either.

Every man and every woman is a star.

But stars and even universes were subject to entropy. Before my eyes the quasi-material body of radiance dimmed as it consumed itself and eroded away. Its refulgent emanation that I perceived as the IDF diminished further and further. Vaguely, and without rational basis, I felt as if this was not entirely inevitable. That maybe it could continue, if only it burned with enough potency, purity and wisdom. But even if that was true, there was nothing I could do.

In a long exhalation like a sigh before my eyes the light extinguished, the structure crumbled inward, and the unique notional distortion began to fall deeper and deeper into imaginary space. A black dwarf, essentially a cooling orb of ashes, and a receding scar in the abstract hypothetical superstructure, the end of a personal reality.

At the same time, as if in some sort of perverse balance, I could faintly feel the strength of my own personal reality increasing by an infinitesimal degree. Just the slightest refinement, just an immeasurably tiny bit sharper and better defined than before. But even so I recalled a certain rather vague passage in the Level 6 Shift documentation and an awful suspicion occurred to me.

My concentration broken, the overdrive state collapsed. Time resumed its flow. And my brain felt like Icarus falling out of the sky after flying too close to the sun. Leaving behind that supreme clarity always was like what I imagined a stroke might feel like every time. But in this moment I welcomed the emotional dimming and less agonizingly diamond-clear understanding.

The memory was burned into my mind. This sight I would not forget for as long as I lived. But strong as they were, I could give no clear name to my emotions. Awe? Humility? Regret? ~~Inspiration and curiosity? These observations may be the key to entirely new realms of understanding, after all.~~

And yet, I would do it again. Extinguish more of these unique lights in the firmament, driven by inexorable will and cold calculation. However often and however many necessary.

Did that make me evil? Perhaps. Fuck if I knew.

The central processor unit inside its scarlet-gold casing was too big to fully fit through the entrance of my haversack. But I didn't need to get it all the way through - as soon as the tip of the ovaloid container was past the rim, it touched upon the spatial knot and was sucked inside in an eye-twisting display. While I had held back on active investigations for fear of damaging the (for now) irreplaceable item, I had mapped out the usage cases in some detail.

The pauldrons containing a small portion of neural tissue each gave me a moment's pause. But the artificial brain lobe analogue was already non-functional with oxygen deprivation and more importantly emitting no IDF at all.

A light tap of my foot on the ground and the various limbs and other cut-off parts of the cyborg chassis leapt up into the air and proceeded straight after the braincase. More conventional technology it might be, but there was something to learn there for sure. For example I was quite interested in the spiral discontinuity gun to see how it measured up against my own work.

Similarly gathering up interesting samples here and there on my way to join up with ~~my minions~~ITEM didn't appreciably slow me down. My vector control wasn't quite as convenient for the purpose as old-fashioned TK, but it served well enough. And I wasn't about to leave here empty-handed in case I had missed a backup self destruct mechanism.

As I arrived Kinuhata was wrestling with a vaguely humanoid figure sheathed in gleaming black carbon nanotube fibers and artificial muscle. Far from her previous cool and collected attitude she snarled at it even as the xenomorph-looking semi-organic skitarii seemed to overpower her with raw strength.

"Super die already, you piece of shit!"

Its spear-like tail whipped and stabbed, impacting on her nitrogen barrier but getting closer each time. But instead of panicking or getting sloppy with anger she seemed to channel the emotions into a more precise grasp and greater strength.

Finally it seemed to overbear her, only for Kinuhata to twist aside at the last moment and use a kick to separate herself from it.

At which point Mugino disintegrated everything up to the thing's shoulders with her Meltdowner.

"Good setup," Mugino commented, turning to send one last barrage of Meltdowner beams toward the top of the stairs before things got quiet.

"Tch. What a super waste. Carbon fiber control and a hardcore cyborg body, but then it dies like a super bitch. No proper ground game or tactical awareness, just brute strength."

I chuckled. Complaining about facing inadequate enemies, that sounded like something I might say. Lightly kicking against one bladed arm I arrested it before it could execute some sort of jump scare. Yep, depriving it of heart, lungs and most of its body mass would eventually kill this one, but not for a couple of minutes yet.

Taking my own hypnotic injector from my belt I applied it to the skitarii remnant and used my vector control to make sure a dose calibrated for an isolated brain went through the various valves and security layers all the way to the CSF. Then, as the IDF dimmed due to loss of consciousness I packed the thing away in my bag. Time moved strangely in there, so it should be fine for a while.

For some reason Mugino and Seiveluun were looking at me differently now. Mugino's expression was complicated and I couldn't quite make sense of it. Seiveluun looked as if she had seen God, only He was the God of the Old Testament pouring divine wrath down on the enemies of the Lord.

Kinuhata on the other hand, flush with victory, was less hesitant than before and didn't avoid meeting my eyes. She chortled as she looked over her work and flexed her hands in eager anticipation of the next fight. So she was the type to feel most alive in battle then? Her aura curled outward and contracted again in time with her gesture. Interesting. That was quite the elegant solution for atmospheric control, I'd have to remember that.

"A good start," I gave them a collective nod of acknowledgement. "But there's still much work to do. Takitsubo, what's the enemy's disposition?"

The clairvoyant turned around, showing a bleeding nose and a dazed expression. Despite that, her report was clear and concise if a bit robotic:

"Some of those robots are still down there but they're not moving. Six espers of Level 2 to 4, one Level 4. One-hundred and fifty… fifty-nine others, Level 0 or non-espers, in the building."

About two-thirds of the non-espers were not moving and were tentatively classified as non-combatants. The others were moving through the building in several groups. Most importantly the espers were moving in two groups attended by a squad of combatants each. One was descending to the second floor as we spoke, the other was making their way outside and climbing down the outside of the building.

Takitsubo was heedless of her bleeding nose but Mugino certainly noticed. At a glance from her Kinuhata started assisting the clairvoyant with a tissue.

"It started with that weird gong noise when… when Accelerator-sama killed that boss robot," Seiveluun reported unprompted. "That's when she got worse than usual."

"Yeah, what super was that?"

"Cognitohazard." I tapped one finger to Takitsubo's forehead. Nose-bleed. Petechial bleeds in several places. Brain chemistry suggestive of postictal state. Nausea and vertigo. Signs of hyperactivation due to Crystallized Esper Essence. No significant backlash damage.

"She's not in immediate danger," I concluded. "But she probably shouldn't push herself or take another dose." Turning back to the clairvoyant I met her eyes until she focused on me. "And if you ever feel something like that again in the future, then look away."

While ITEM went to intercept the cult strike force outside, hopefully before they brought down my plasma curtain, I moved up the stairs to meet the second archmagos. I had to step across large holes and piles of melted humanoid hardware and I eyed the walls and ceiling with some suspicion. Mugino really had gone wild here.

As I walked the swirls of air caused by my passage propagated and built unnaturally. Moving around corners and through little gaps, playing across every surface and gathering strength in tight vortices, the winds touched upon every part of the ground floor. No opposition here, I concluded, all was still. All combatants that had been on the lower floors had converged on Janus' order and been annihilated.

Reaching the stairs up to the second floor I began to spread the winds under my control ahead of me: There. Ten mobile disruptions, eight humanoid and two larger, walking in formation without hurry. Soon after a pulse of terahertz radar washed through the building and the heavy steps above halted. Turning with the reversal after the first flight of stairs I saw them waiting for me at the top of the stairs.

Of the two cult officers in their red robes, the larger magos was a truly massive figure looking even more solid than Janus had. The metallic surface of his chassis, from the humanoid arms to the face, was patterned with complex interlocking pieces of different metals that moved to give the impression of muscles and facial expressions. An antenna array radiating from his head imitated dreadlocks and if he possessed additional mechadendrite arms they were hidden behind his back.

The other followed a more conventional pattern with a blank facial mask with a multi-lens visual apparatus. Her chassis hinted at a female body type and she carried a large blocky piece of machinery like a rucksack. Two obvious weapons carried by the lower set of her four additional robotic arms were pointed downward.

"Accelerator. We meet at last." The larger cyborg's voice boomed through the stairwell, powerful but without any obvious signs of attempted audio hypnosis. "I am Archmagos Aurax, champion and field commander of our cabal. Let us speak"

Beside and behind them a group of skitarii similarly made no obvious move to attack first. Another attempt at subversion then? Well, I could work with that. With every second that passed my controlled air currents extended further through the facility and provided a better overview of the tactical situation.

"Sure." I scoffed. "Any last words then?"

"I'm sorry," he rumbled, his arms lifted in a placating gesture, blunting my violent intent with the sheer unexpectedness of it. "Even if violence may be inevitable, at least allow me to apologize for the misunderstanding back in January. Lord Callidus never intended for things to happen that way.

"We meant to extend our hand as allies. But then Janus and his fanatical morons bungled that completely, turning a diplomatic outreach into a violent confrontation."

I had used the opportunity while he talked to extend my perception and took note of their IPD diffusion fields: Pyrokinesis or thermokinesis in aspect for the lesser magos, potent but bearing marks of artificial boosting. Her IDF was concentrated around the apparatus on her back and the weapon-attachments, pulsing quickly and eagerly.

Aurax's field however was strange. Powerful and highly developed psychokinesis with a strong scent and shimmer of metal, suggesting a metallokinetic of Level 4 or above. Similar to Janus' IDF there was a maturity to it that was rare to find. Like a mid-twenties weightlifter at the peak of his strength compared to the teenage olympic gymnasts I usually saw, so to speak.

But there were strangle splotches and gaps in his IPD aura, as if something had eaten holes into it. And there was a second IDF radiating from his head and the antenna array in particular, which I recognized as that of a neuro-telepath.

Was he carrying a second esper around with him on his back? Or just their brain as a sort of co-processor or a comm device, literally slaved to his control? Was that why in the fight against Janus the telepathic assault had cut off so suddenly when I blew off his head?

Fuck, and this one had seemed almost reasonable. I laughed contemptuously.

"And why the fuck would I ever want to ally with people who look at their fellow espers and see convenient spare parts? Who the fuck even are you people? What kind of hole did you crawl out of?"

"We," the cyborg said simply, ignoring the accusation and spreading his arms in an expansive gesture, "are your predecessors, the previous generation. We once stood exactly where you and the Meltdowner now stand: At the peak of the Esper Development Program.

"We were honored and admired. We were the ideal to which our kouhai aspired, the banner marching at the forefront of science, the explorers in uncharted territory. Our successes propelled science forward in leaps and bounds." He clenched his hands into fists. "We were loyal to this city. Loyal even as we tried to change things for the better from within, rooting out unethical scientific practices and exploitation."

Distant explosions and the screeching hiss of Meltdowner beams sounded from outside the building, but neither of us so much as looked away from our staredown.

"And look where you are now," I commented with biting condemnation.

The archmagos inclined his head acknowledging my censure, his posture sagging in an impressively human-like emulation of body language.

"In the end we were nothing to them. Nothing but experimental specimens. They divided us against ourselves, isolated us, and then they took us apart. Vivisections, destructive analysis and worse. Dilgan was the first… I can only hope he is no longer aware of what they have made of him." He sighed deeply.

"Sophia, Lord Callidus, saved us. She erased our trails before they could write us out of history themselves. She showed us the path to achieving the power to fight back.

"And yes, we have indeed gone so much further even than the enemies of our youth. I don't expect you to understand our desperation. To someone like you our methods must seem unbearably cruel. But whatever you think you know of this city's darkness, you haven't dipped more than a toe into the shallows. Produce. Dark May. White Alligator. Tabula Rasa. Dragon Blood. Third Genesis. Tree Diagram."

His voice grew more intense with the last few code words he enunciated culminating in a shiver of utmost hatred in his voice at the last one. Maybe it was a trick of synesthesia, but it almost seemed as if the light dimmed under the exhalation of deepest loathing.

"The list goes on and on, an abyss without end. All by the abominable design of the magician Aleister Crowley, BEAST666 of the Golden Dawn!"

"So you're fighting fire with fire, is that it?" My contemptuous tone made clear what I thought of that. "Monstrosity with monstrosity and magic with magic?"

It would have been quite the shocking revelation if I hadn't already known about magic or the chairman's true identity. But as it was I was more interested in where they had gotten their hands on this stuff.

The cyborg shook his head. "Not at first, not for many years. We have been patient, oh so patient. Working slowly and steadily in the shadows. If not for the opportunity to approach you as a potential ally we wouldn't have revealed ourselves until we were ready. And we would have been content to disappear once more. To let the waves calm. Maybe approach you again in a few months.

"But now…" The archmagos let out a gusty sigh. "The clock is ticking. The end is coming. We're desperate, with our backs against the wall, and the time for hesitation or scruples is past.

"We will immanentize the OmnissiahS Y S T E M. We must. And only then will we be saved. Only then will we be able to save all those who accept the baptism. Otherwise the eschaton will consume us all."

Taking a deep breath I made sure to extract all the oxygen in preparation, before sighing myself. "I see."

While we had been talking my air current control had infiltrated all the way to the top floor. Five groups of mobile disturbances were moving around the building, manually destroying intelligence and technology, gathering up valuables and herding prisoners. And the battle outside was still raging.

Aurax looked at me with a pleading expression and reached out with one open hand. "We don't need to be enemies. There are no strings on us. You too can remove yourself from his control. I pray that you do."

By the strong fluctuations of the archmagos' IPD diffusion field his grievances were real and he probably believed what he was saying about their situation. But a clever politician or psywar operator could make honest emotions do dishonest work and their guru most likely could make them believe just about any bullshit story if they wanted.

And while he was making his best appeal - or doing his best to rattle and gaslight me, as the case may be - at the same time he was also stacking every advantage for his side. In all the chaos I couldn't perceive much of the battle outside, but the fact that it was still going on even with Mugino involved told me that it was far too close a thing.

Even if I had been inclined to stand here and listen to more of this mixture of bitter history and utter lunacy, allowing these fuckers to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat was something I could not allow. ~~The time for listening to enemies was when they were brains in jars on my trophy shelf.~~

I didn't bother replying. All I'd get would be more pretty words to cover the rotten truth.

Vector field control: Wind hammer, 15 instances ready. Air binds, 8 instances ready. Sonic disruption, 6 instances ready. Expedient projectile launch, 12 instances ready. Unstable ceiling/wall collapse, 4 instances ready. Calculating optimal coverage. Window approaching: 3, 2, 1. Execute.

A rolling thunderclap shook the upper floors. Explosive wind blasts hammered servitors off their feet or crushed semi-organic skitarii, screwdrivers and other convenient projectiles leaped toward vulnerable joints, and building structures collapsed in more places than I'd anticipated.

The metal scales of Aurax' chassis bristled and buzzed like a thousand insect wings crossed with vibro-saws and his facial scales expressed disappointed reproach. He looked as if about to say something but was cut off.

The pyrokinetic esper seemed to have just been waiting for an excuse, any excuse, no matter what her superior professed. She gunned the fusion reactor on her back to a roar and lifted the nozzles of her two weapon mechadendrites.

And all hell broke loose.

A Certain Incandescent Meltdowner

Electrons transformed under Mugino Shizuri's will, transcended the restraints of physics and became receptive to the energy she poured into them. An orb of harsh green light formed before her, filled with enough power to vaporize any material object. With a sharp gesture of her hand the orb shot off, joining the three others she had in pursuit of that cursed cyborg.

That was not the way she normally used her esper ability, the Electron Eigenstate Superposition High Speed Cannon that made her the fourth-ranked Level 5 "Meltdowner". But the abominable ringing in her ears that seemed to saw through her brain and fracture any complex calculations she attempted left her no choice but to restrict herself.

Simple and straightforward, that was the key right now to avoiding a catastrophic mistake with her extraordinarily lethal ability. Unfortunately that also made it easier for the electromaster cyborg with literal eyes in the back of his head to avoid her attacks.

A series of shots rang out over the din, impacting on the flat plane of vibrating free electrons she pulled up in front of her and disappearing into a puff of vapor. Thankfully the cult esper's ability was utterly useless against her superior electromastery, leaving him with only a holdout weapon to use.

With a snarl Shizuri accelerated one of her Meltdowner orbs and vaporized the cyborg's shoulder and upper right arm. Unfortunately he seemed to be immune to pain and the multi-speaker apparatus on his back continued its hateful song. How much worse would the sonic assault be without Accelerator's earbuds to filter it? She didn't want to know.

A quick side-glance took in the rest of the situation: Takitsubo was down. She'd been the enemy's priority target, first blinded by that blasted light manipulator and then affected by whatever it was the third cyborg esper delivered with their ribbon-tentacles. At least Shizuri had disintegrated the laser-wielding cultist in return. She swallowed her sizzling anger and her worry to force herself to think clearly.

Frenda was standing watch over Takitsubo and fiddling with the oversized gun she had appropriated from a fallen enemy after she'd used up all of her own ammunition. She had really pulled her weight here, having accounted for most of the unpowered opposition after Shizuri and Kinuhata had been affected by the loathsome sonics. Her body armor was peppered with burn marks and a stab wound to her thigh was slowly soaking red through the camouflage pattern, but she was holding on.

Kinuhata was in an ice cold frenzy, ripping through the two-headed tentacle cyborg's cloth ribbons like a woman possessed. Far from being out of control she was exceedingly precise, focusing her blows in one place to systematically crack open the half-robot's chest armor and carefully avoiding the fallen pieces of cloth. Stepping on one of those even while wearing shoes was enough to disorient them, they had discovered, and a single touch had been enough to knock Rikou out.

If not for the intervention of an unseen sniper blowing off one of the cult priest's main arms with a high-powered rifle he might actually have killed Takitsubo before Kinuhata could intervene. It was another sobering reminder that for once even her power was not enough to carry the day. The Accelerator and his enemies played in a different league from anything she'd previously faced.

Not only could she not 'take him so long as I'm tricky about it', if he hadn't been there with them that thing down there would have killed them all. So now she owed him on top of everything else. Fuck.

Still, with Kinuhata on the case the two-headed freak was as good as dead. With her Offense Armor she could keep their deadly tentacles at a distance and still rip and tear until it was done.

Shizuri formed another Meltdowner orb while directing the existing ones into a quick feint. Her enemies reacted with inhuman speed and the advantage of their tactical network, but they only had limited combat experience she'd found. And there was a pattern to their automatic evasions. With a snarl she reversed the course of her orbs and felled the last two non-powered combatants trying to approach one of the poles supporting the energy shield.

Physical objects could pass through, but electromagnetically it provided near-total isolation across large parts of the spectrum. And that was vital, Accelerator had claimed, to avoid coordination with other cult facilities if they existed. Because a dozen espers boosted to the equivalent of Level 3-5 and almost a hundred heavily armed combatants immune to fear and hesitation wasn't even the worst case scenario, apparently.

She wasn't getting paid enough for this. Not even close!

A thunderclap rumbled, shaking the air, and a vast surge of light blasted outward through every window from the ground floor to the third. The accompanying wave of high-energy radiation sent a jolt of alarm through Shizuri as she recognized the electromagnetic signature and the world seemed to slow down in the grip of adrenaline.

Rumor had it that the Accelerator might even survive a nuclear bomb, but were those absolute lunatics seriously about to test that theory?

With a cry she threw herself into a roll to bring herself between the building and the rest of her team and brought up the most powerful barrier she could, heedless of the risk she took that with the interference to her calculations she might lose control and vaporize herself.

An outpouring of terrible heat rolled through the windows as the hellish light built higher and higher like the bloom of a new sun - and then, after a few seconds, collapsed. Leaving wet molten streaks across the asphalt and the windows aglow like entrances to the furnaces of hell, but all of them alive.

A wall on the fourth floor fairly disintegrated under a blast of energy that set the energy shield above them ringing. An insectile-looking figure of gleaming gold streaked with black began to fall, uselessly spreading skeletal wings while exchanging blows with the Accelerator in mid-air faster than her eyes could follow.

With every punch from the #1 there was an explosion of light and a metallic ringing like a demented glockenspiel. The tones were unnaturally penetrating like the one that had injured Rikou, even through the torturous cacophony of the anti-esper sonics, but strangled and suppressed compared to before.

They hit the ground with a wet noise, the asphalt melting instantly under the heat radiated by the black and gold cyborg. He looked barely even humanoid, more like a deformed skeleton of gold with odd bulges here and there.

The Accelerator's clothes were scorched with his shirt disintegrating into charred flakes trailing behind him. His arms up to his shoulders were covered by spiraling bands of white-hot light like when he had absorbed her own Meltdowner. With every one of his punches the energy construct injected spikes of brilliance that left spots in her eyes.

Nuclear knuckle-dusters? What the hell, Accelerator. But she had to admit, he looked damn fine this way, all passion and overwhelming lethal power.

The younger esper gave her no more than a quick sidewards glance but the piercing noise that drilled through her calculations suddenly cut out completely, leaving blessed silence in its wake. The bastard electromaster didn't have time to do more than throw himself down in a desperate attempt to dodge before Shizuri's Meltdowner beam turned him into so much dust and vapor. Finally!

Kinuhata meanwhile, also back to her full strength, had managed to rip open the two-headed cyborg's chest piece and thrown them to the ground. She was now stomping their heart or whatever they had for organs into mechatronic splinters while punctuating every stomp with a curse.

Of course, that was when a VTOL gunship, all sharp angles and predatory grace, swept in just barely above the rooftops of the surrounding buildings. It came to a hovering stop maybe twenty meters from the energy shield and immediately opened multiple weapon pods on each side.

Again and again I hammered my fists into the magos' chassis with transhuman strength, conducting megawatts of thermal energy with every strike. Hyperalloy armor, graphene layers and gold shimmering with the fullest expression of Aurax' metallokinesis, all vaporized - but only the uppermost layer.

It felt almost like punching into jelly. Under the magos' control the gold and other metals flowed like liquid but dampened the deadly resonance vibrations I injected like foam and opposed every attempt at pushing my vector transformation through the armor as if every molecule possessed its own will.

And when that was not enough, there were always one or more of those scarlet-gold scales in the way, not directly controlled but held in place by the surrounding metal. I was getting increasingly adept at dealing with the backlash, strangling, redirecting and even partially reflecting it. Eventually these scales also bent and broke under my fists, but not quickly. And with his metallokinesis every bit of Aurax' remaining chassis was ablative armor.

He was one tough son of a bitch, I had to give him that. But while the metal branches tipped with blades and spikes of that magical stuff still stung a bit, he was incapable of truly hurting me now that I had a good grasp on his arsenal of supernatural materials.

That combination of alchemical napalm containing some sort of unnatural shit that made it burn more like thermite had been much worse. And the pyrokinetic's suicide move with the fusion reactor had been just crazy. For a moment it had seemed as if she had fully transformed herself into a living sun.

But ultimately she didn't have the staying power for a fight at this level. And, I suspected from what I had seen in her as I crushed the fusion-based pseudo-lifeform, she had on some level realized what had been done to her mind. And had been actively trying to achieve either total destruction or complete transformation to escape the cult's domination.

Three more punches with the energy output ramped up as high as I dared.

With ITEM less than ten meters away I had to be careful. Takitsubo was down but still breathing, it seemed. And as soon as I had countered the cognitive interference weapon with a noise-canceling reflection, Mugino and Kinuhata had overwhelmed their opponents who had relied on that to even the scales. But if I went any higher, then even just the radiant heat might cook them.

This wasn't getting me anywhere quickly enough, I decided. At this rate it might take as much as a minute until I had vaporized enough material and ripped out enough scales to reach whatever passed for the archmagos' brain. My accelerator shots might do better, but there would be the risk of hypervelocity shrapnel.

No, screw this shit. Pushing the cyborg down into the molten ground with a knee strike and brushing aside the fractally branching fork he had made of his left wing, I resorted to the weapon I had brought for just this sort of situation.

There was a terrible noise and the skeletal golden magos convulsed violently as something not quite like a singularity but close enough bored a twenty centimeter hole straight through the massively thick composite armor that had stymied me for most of our fight, through his chest and dozens of meters into the ground underneath.

The ~~death ray~~gun in my hand would have annihilated itself in the process if not for my power suffusing the mechanism. The firing chamber and barrel served as focus for my power similar to the way I used a blade for the gravity shear, with hundreds of layers of spiraling twists in space and accelerating vector transformations forming both propellant and a spatial rifling of sorts. Five cartridges were left now, each containing a stabilized spatial discontinuity in place of a projectile.

From every enemy I faced I learned. And the more dangerous they were the more there was to learn.

Curiously, even that wasn't enough to put the self-proclaimed cult champion down, however. His IDF spasmed and choked for a moment, but then it stabilized slightly weaker than before and in a slightly different configuration.

With my left hand reaching into the hole in his chest I found I could push my vector control deeper into his systems now that I was past the armor layer and I quickly realized why: The lunatic had actually separated his brain into a number of parts for redundancy and resilience to exactly this sort of damage.

And not content with that, rather than infiltrate the tissue with neural lace of nanostructured data connections he had actually reversed the principle. He had sheathed his neural tissues in metal almost down to the individual cells, embedding the neuronal pathways and supporting astrocytes in a semi-liquid foam of gold-based nanostructures deeply suffused with his esper power. Quantum computing crystals were similarly diffused throughout the substrate rather than consolidated in chips.

Most stunningly, given the near-impossibility of the whole setup, this had to be something he had done to himself with his metallokinesis in full consciousness, the absolute madman.

The sharp blast of a plasma cannon followed by a terrific screech from Mugino's Meltdowner accompanied by a wobbly ringing sound like sheet metal interrupted my moment of astonishment.

The plasma curtain bulged outward and then burst open under the vast influx of high energy electrons in a preternatural state that it simply couldn't deal with. Mugino's beam lanced outwards and cored a hovering black VTOL gunship, already listing from a plasma shot to its right wing, from front to back. Multiple secondary explosions followed that broke the plane entirely apart into three to four parts that rained down trailing flames and smoke.

Reinforcements? Where did that thing come from? Good thing the Sisters and the Meltdowner had been quick on the uptake. This would have been a terrible time to find out what these assholes could do with vehicle scale hardware or how many more dirty tricks they had up their sleeves. If they had one kind of magic, then they might have more.

But with the electromagnetic isolation broken we had a different problem now. Already I could feel structured electromagnetic signals falling on my barrier, then a spike in intensity as a directional antenna was directed our way. And I could see a psychic aura sliding along the connection as soon as it was established: An external IDF structure that was eagerly received by the magos and quickly spread through his own aura like the fractal roots of a tree. Aurax' own IDF stabilized and bloomed with an influx of external reinforcement, not entirely unlike the Level Upper subjects I had observed.

Briefly I looked over to the ITEM girls, but Takitsubo was still out. Damn. Just when we could have locked down the root of the whole problem. That had to be the cult's guru, the one pulling all their strings even as they proclaimed themselves free.

With my hand already touching upon some of the internal data conduits between different parts of his distributed mind, deriving the basis to access the imaginary space was easy enough. But while I could see Aurax and the conduit between him and the other esper when I stretched my perception into that dimension, their communion was beyond my ability to resolve from this perspective.

And when I turned my notional sight along the imaginary angle of that conduit I was suddenly faced with something I was not prepared for. Something existed there in that space between spaces, deep into the illusory realm of abstractions.

A titanic wheel of pulsing flames with a thousand spokes, a sphere made of flowing symbols whose meaning I could not grasp, a lidless eye wreathed in flame. It was all of these things and none of them. And when it turned its gaze upon me, it blazed with such terrific radiance as to actually hurt me just from receiving its glare.

Accelerator.

It wasn't a voice so much as thoughts and concepts injected directly into my perception that battered and shook me with their power. The glare burned my IDF and the foreign thoughts drilled through it like tongues of flame.

You have made yourself our enemy today, murderer.

I tried to adjust my defenses, but in extending my perception so far beyond myself and into foreign spaces I had exposed myself.

Aleister has him still, my Lord.

N̷̼͈̜̰̯̓͋̚̚͠ó̶̧͚͈̖̠̎͋́ ̸̡̛̬͍̜̦̲͍̏͌͋̎m̸̧̳̳̞̯͗̇̓̐ô̶̹͙̳͍̒̊̈̇̍r̴͓̖͉̩̹̺̮͗̽̔̃̀̕è̷̡͚̟̰͊̍̔͘͝͝ ̷̠̯̺̀m̷͈̪̣̦̌̎͑͝e̷̖͓͍̠̮͕͗r̶͈̠̩͈̖̱͌c̶̭̉̃ÿ̵̢͇̬͚̹̲́̔̓͜ ̴̹̰͍̇͗̇͝f̷̧̧̣̝̲͙͈̄͂̾̔͑͆ȍ̵͙͍̙͙̭͌̇̈́͘̚̚r̴̼̫̙͌͛̈́͆̈͝ ̴͕͍͚̮̬̽̐̃̊ţ̴̥͇͇̆̆̅͆ḩ̷̻̮̣͛e̵̤̻̩̝̎͌̈́̏͒͌͝ ̴͔̺̠͋͜d̶͍̳̤̣͔̑o̴͉͖͐̉͌͊͗̕ģ̴̠̠͖͊̓̏̈́̑̍s̴̨̥̪̬͂͆ ̵̰̮̖͈̊͊̉͠o̶̢̭̹͖͂͆͋́̿f̵̨̛͍̋̇͆̂͜ ̷̯̩͕̥̺͊ẗ̵̛͚͖͈́̈̔̽̽̕͜ḧ̸͇͖̈́͋͜͝͝a̷̝̍̒̀͆ṫ̸̗̮̘̰͊̈́͂̚ ̴̨̱̻͇͇̥̩̔́a̵͍̭̱̦͂̀̌̔̍t̷̡̡̖̺̫̍̈́͒̈́͂͘ṛ̶̙͚̦̤͈̍̂͜o̶͔̬̝̓͌͐̚̚͝͝c̴̦̮̙̒͐̈̇̕į̷̫̥͂͐̌̂̀̕ǫ̸͌͘͠͠ǘ̷̫̼̫̟̮̗̍̒̇̈́͘s̵̢̡̥̞̼̬͔̒̾͠ ̷̛͔̮͎̞̤̯̽̔̇̓̕͝b̵̧̳͓̼̤͓̭̔ú̴̝̯̫̳̭̓̔̍͜͠t̴͖̱̒̋̽̈́̽̆c̸̜̺͚̦̃͆͐́͝h̸͖͈̖͚̙̣̓̅ͅe̷͔͇͗̇͠r̶̪̠͓̙̕͘ͅ.̵̼̎̂̑̐̋͝ͅ

A blast of inhuman hatred hammered into me, throwing my notional perspective back as if caught in a massive shockwave. The emotion wasn't even directed at me personally, but my supposed position as the chairman's prime plan was enough for me to catch the peripheral of the explosion.

Shaking my head I had to take a moment to center myself and banish fragments of foreign thought from my mind. Quite evidently I was not ready to confront a Level 5 psychic within their own domain such as a realm of pure information.

It burned at me to come out the lesser in a confrontation, to be brushed aside as a mere side-effect of the other esper's power over their domain. Worse, to realize my vulnerability even if it was limited to a rather specific type of situation. As I had learned through bitter experience, any kind of vulnerability inevitably would be used to hurt me sooner or later.

And beyond that… just what was that, that burning wheel, that terrible eye? What sort of entity had the founder of the cult, this Sophia, made of herself? That presence had been almost completely post-human. Was that only how she presented herself, to match her legend as the one who would leave humanity behind to become the cult's messiah figure? Or was she truly that far along in turning herself into something beyond humanity, beyond Level 5?

Recognizing that my thoughts were running in spirals, my emotions unbalanced by the intense confrontation with something I hadn't expected and didn't understand, I forcefully returned my breath and circulation back into ideal bounds. Compartmentalize. Put these thoughts and memories aside. I would have time to deal with this later, for now I had a battle to finish.

During the exchange and the blink of an eye I'd been distracted the IDF conduit had further expanded and solidified into a bridge of sorts. A bridge along which the metallokinetic's aura was now extended like a flow of viscous liquid sucked into a straw. Flowing upwards in great globs trailing threads, the light of his IDF and its source seemed to separate from the thought substrate of his chassis as if his mind was about to abandon it entirely.

For a moment I hesitated. Despite being complicit in their crimes, Aurax had seemed more reasonable than the others. Perhaps even a moderating influence. But no. No matter how well he managed to present himself, he still took part in their abhorrent actions and still followed his guru. And apart from me only Dark Matter could definitely handle someone as tough as him.

An asset like that had to be denied to the enemy even at the cost of making it personal.

"Oh no, you don't."

My ~~death ray~~gun annihilated two more centers of thought inside his metallic structure. Then with my vector transformation reaching deeply into the core of his being I tore through data connections like a rampaging barbarian horde. I conceptualized abstract information flows as directional vectors and randomized them all over the place. And I gripped at his already torn IDF, weakened by interference from the magical material he had used for his chassis, with notional hands and ripped it open like old cloth.

In the end what flowed along the ego bridge was not a mind but scrambled and splattered giblets. Incoherent screaming chaos. The plasma curtain was still not quite done regenerating, but the data connection snapped back and abandoned the dark and empty shell at my feet.

The battlefield fell silent. It was done.

Rudimentary creatures of blood and flesh. You touch my mind fumbling in ignorance…

Not entirely happy with this. It feels like the tone is a bit wobbly and inconsistent, but I think I might need a bit more distance before I can go over it an Xth time. Same with Mugino's voice, which there isn't much data on to work with.

Initially I thought to cover the finishing up in this chapter as well, but that segues into a couple of scenes that need a lot of work (and thought) still. So this was an obvious stopping point.

Also working an extra 10 hours per week to cover for absent colleagues is not good for my creative energy, as expected.

Last edited: Aug 13, 2023

One-Way Road - Accelerator SI vs. the Toaru-verse Black Phoenix - A Harry Potter OC SI via Waifu Catalogue

The Pendragon Contingency - Warhammer 40K SI as DAoT!Arthur Pendragon Cosmic's dreams of distant worlds - Snippet archive

One-Way Road 17

"Haaaaaah!" With a convulsive gasp Takitsubo shot up from where she was lying and into a sitting position. Swiveling her neck and hyperventilating she looked around wildly with unseeing eyes. Her IDF spiked in intensity and momentarily gave me an impression of a thousand eyes and gnashing teeth.

Moving a bit back to give her some space ~~and certainly not because that freaked me out~~I could feel the focus of her clairvoyant ability skipping back and forth, ascertaining the state of the other ITEM girls and the battlefield. Then her psychic gaze returned to me with uncomfortable intensity and held for a long moment before turning away with a surprised twitch. Did she see me perceiving her ESP? It certainly felt like the uncomfortable intimacy of meeting a stranger's eyes for too long.

"It's alright, Takitsubo," Mugino was at her side in a flash, momentarily abandoning her cool demeanor in favor of reassuring her friend. "We won. You're safe."

"We're all here," Kinuhata added comfortingly. "And the freaks are super dead."

Seiveluun was still busy applying an OmniFoam bandage to her stab wound, but despite the pain she must have been in she affected a bright and cheery tone: "Sweet victory~."

"… alright." With the initial burst of adrenaline fading Takitsubo wavered a little but was supported by Mugino.

"You might be confused for a bit," I explained the diagnosis derived from my vector analysis. "I'm seeing some diffuse neurological affectation caused by the cult esper's ability, but it will fade soon enough."

"Why am I blind, though?"

Mugino looked at Takitsubo with alarm and then at me.

"Yes, there is extensive retinal damage caused by a weaponized laser," I continued with a grimace, "I've done what I can to prevent further tissue damage, relieving pressure and closing off hemorrhages as well as minimizing necrosis. But you will need regenerative nanite treatment from an experienced neurologist. Don't worry though, It might take a couple of weeks, but it's still nothing Academy City science can't fix."

"Wow, you're a super doctor, too?" Kinuhata whistled.

Not in this life, so I'd rather not answer.

"So she'll be fine if we get her treatment from a specialist?" Mugino cut in, her expression intense. An inane question, given that I had just said that, but it wasn't untypical for patients and relatives to barely hear one word out of four when receiving a bad diagnosis.

"Yes," I said simply.

Then I frowned, turning back to Takitsubo. "The same can't be said for the cumulative damage from Ability Body Crystal use, however. At this rate, you'll soon reach an irreversible point if you haven't already. And it's not just your body that's taking damage every time. Your ability strength and precision will be affected as well. I can see how it literally eats away at your power."

"I know." Takitsubo's voice was small but determined. "But it's the only way I can use my ability to its full potential. Without that I'm useless. So… it's fine."

There was a complicated and uncomfortable expression on Mugino's face. She looked as if she wanted to say something but wasn't sure which words would be coming out of her mouth.

"Whoever told you that was a hack and an imbecile of the highest order," I stated derisively. "Or they were deliberately sabotaging your ability development. There is absolutely no reason you shouldn't be able to do without a toxic shortcut with proper development. But if you continue to rely on that stuff, especially the various mismatched types of Ability Body Crystal you've been using, you'll never reach your actual potential."

To be honest, I wasn't sure if I wanted to ever face a Takitsubo Rikou that had actually reached her full potential. Total IDF and personal reality manipulation, "Astral Dominion" or whatever it would be called at Level 5, was a somewhat scary concept even for me. Still, it was the principle of the thing.

"Mismatched?" Seiveluun leaped on that detail. "There are different types of that stuff?"

I nodded and scowled. "Given your power's adaptability, I can see how your supplier might think that they can get away with giving you whatever they have on hand. But if you really must take the risk of permanently eroding your esper ability with drugs, then you should at least hold out for an individually tailored product with a pure clairvoyant aspect."

Mugino clenched a fist. "That… that bitch. I'll carve her to pieces and roast her slowly, slice by slice."

"It might be that your supplier doesn't have the right kind of access," I allowed. "I've been looking to get a line on the research groups working on Ability Body Crystal myself, but they're buried deep and have some serious backing."

Looking at Mugino I gave a thin smile. "I'm open to cooperation if you want to do some digging. Or if you need an independent specialist consultant in any related matter."

Mugino met my eyes, her expression cooled from the initial wild flare to a more tightly controlled anger and determination. A sort of understanding passed between us.

I'd gone into this with a pretty negative opinion of her, but there was more to her than just a hired killer. She wasn't entirely without principles and she truly cared for her people. Anyone who brought harm to those she considered hers was in for a monumentally bad time. I could respect that.

~~And this way I simultaneously drove a wedge between her and her handlers, cemented myself as a good ally to have, and opened another avenue to acquire data on the Ability Body Crystal.~~

Something crashed down behind us and I looked back to the smoking building riddled with Meltdowner holes in addition to the large breach caused by my battle with the archmagos. First, though, we'd have to wrap up here. The official response wouldn't be delayed forever.

With the esper officers and dedicated combatants down, sweeping the facility was easy enough. Smothering fires was a simple matter of redirecting heat and oxygen and I was light-footed enough not to risk a collapse of the much-abused building. Easy, but not as quick as I'd have liked.

Eight floors plus the sub-basement, slightly under a thousand square meters each, and chock full with challenges of the non-violent sort - twenty minutes was blindingly fast considering all that. If not for the Sisters and Mugino's agent putting their fingers on the scales in various ways to make sure Anti-Skill prioritized the militarized Skill-Out bases, we'd have been interrupted for sure.

Even before our assault had turned it into an abattoir the facility had been a cabinet of atrocities, if executed with machine-like precision and surgical sterility. As I swept through the building the structure and scope of its operations revealed itself to me. Often to my dismay.

Beyond the entrances that were arranged to keep up an illusion of normalcy were the intake areas with their aerosolizers for psychotropics and the high-fidelity speakers for audio hypnosis. There were prison cells for unprocessed captures, hospital-like halls of beds for sedated 'patients', and a large 'organic material processor' capable of fully separating a human being into component tissues in less than three minutes.

Multiple large surgical theaters equipped with robotic auto-surgeons and cabinets full of cybernetics pointed to cyborg transformations on an industrial scale. Most of them were probably less extensive than their combatants, but going by the number of components in stock all of them would have the basic brain interface.

The cloning tanks for organoids and the bioreactors for the various drugs were tame in comparison. As were the large server farms processing humongous amounts of data and most of the laboratories, virtual and otherwise, as long as one didn't look too closely at the projects in development:

New and more potent methods of mental interference. New ways to network and instrumentalize the broad base of unwilling and often unknowing cult 'initiates'. Cruel and unusual weaponry to arm their soldiers, which naturally needed live testing.

A large chapel-like room seemed to be a place of worship. It was held entirely in dark metal, with only the stylized depiction representing their idol showing color and the only light coming from the shining golden aureola around her. It was a masterwork of metalwork and mechanics, moving through stages that showed the 'holy' transformation from human woman to cyborg to dragon-like 'machine god'.

I ripped apart every last bit of it and purged it all with flames hotter than the surface of the sun.

Not out of hatred, but because I didn't trust anyone without my ability and understanding of the cults' subversive techniques to step into this room and come out unaffected. The number of different attack vectors and the interplay of indoctrination techniques was honestly quite impressive. And that was without the cult leader taking a personal hand, which I was now quite aware she could.

Generous application of high-energy plasma was in fact my general solution to everything that I would prefer not to spread around. Copy the data, take technology samples, record the identities of the fallen, then incinerate everything potentially problematic and cremate the bodies. ~~Pillage, then burn.~~

And then there were the prisoners, the experimental subjects, the 'initiates' still being brainwashed, and the non-combatant cultists.

Distinguishing between these groups wasn't easy at first, especially for the lower-ranking cult menials who could plausibly hide among the others. But after the first dozen of each, I had a solid enough data set to pick out the trace residuals of drugs, the changes in neural wiring, and the information patterns of artificially reinforced loyalty. In one corner of my mind, I was already compiling a report for the Heaven Canceler or whichever colleagues of his would get involved in their treatment.

Add to that the way their implants and cybernetics got more elaborate the higher their rank, and even without cracking more than the surface layers of their internal communications I could build a sort of org chart for them. Important information to have for anyone keeping them as prisoners or interrogating them.

For each of them I disabled as much of their cybernetics as I could without risk to their life and dosed them according to their body mass. Anything that could pose a risk to themselves or to others had to go. After making copies I also nulled out their implant data. Then I floated them out the windows in little bubbles of gravity vector transformations. Manipulating space at range was something I hadn't yet managed, but doing it at touch range and then moving the result about was quite possible if a little taxing.

On the ground floor ITEM formed the backstop to my sweep and sorted the processed and sedated casualties into rows on the ground, putting reinforced zip ties on the brainwashed ones.

There was no way either of our organizations could take that many prisoners. And while Mugino was inclined to expediency where the cult members were concerned, she wasn't about to put up a fuss if I wanted them left alive. Between the amnestic and both of our various connections primed to take charge of the narrative, leaving them for Anti-Skill and emergency services wasn't a huge risk for us.

For all that she might not care about them as individuals and think it a waste of time and effort to keep them alive, Mugino's pride wouldn't allow her to do 'sloppy work'.

A few of the most promising interrogation targets I sent elsewhere. The regular authorities may have the resources to contain that many cultists, but whether they would be able to extract any information out of them quickly enough to matter was a different question. Would they risk involving a high-level telepath when there were potential cognitohazards in play?

Better that I handle this myself. So I sent them to the shipping container in the back that I had appropriated instead.

There was so much interesting technology here that even the spatially expanded bag had reached its limits a couple of minutes ago. Not to mention all the things that were too big for it in the first place, like the parts of the portals downstairs or the automatic cloning apparatus. But that was what the container was for.

Stepping outside I could hear sirens in the distance. The building behind me was a scorched and sterilized ruin but I had finally gotten rid of all the superfluous energy from that attempt at kindling a miniature star.

A pulsed laser beam homed in on me and fell on my reflection field with an impression like the sound of falling rain. Going by the angle it originated from the roop of a sixty-story building roughly a kilometer and a half away.

Vector field manipulation: Receiving comm laser signal. Adjust vector reversal with optical communication protocol. Quantum cryptography handshake in progress… done. Connection established with .

Misaka 1 (a little bit worried): Has everything gone alright, Accelerator? Your clothes are damaged - did they have something that could hurt you? You're not injured, are you?

Accelerator (giving reassurance of his good health): Nothing I couldn't deal with. I'm alright. More importantly, how are things on your end?

Misaka 32 (triumphant, while hiding her relief): Hah, I told you it was nothing! Onii-chan isn't going to lose to some upjumped toasters!

Misaka 78 (teasing, as she reveals her compromising observation data): Don't think I didn't see you fretting and neglecting your duties over trying to enhance that image further 'just to make sure'.

Misaka 32 (embarrassed): Nooo!

Misaka 1 (laughing, finally able to let go of her worries): We're all fine, Accelerator. Nothing even breached our perimeter but a few probing drone flights.

Misaka 78 (disappointed that she has no new information): They didn't even go for the technopathy honeypots.

Misaka 103 (reporting in a military tone): Four tangoes down. Airspace is clear, no further enemy aircraft on the scopes. And Operation Morpheus is in the final stage, we've already drawn back our drones. No losses of materiel on our side.

Misaka 1 (joking, more light-hearted now): If you're going to be like that, shouldn't you avoid interrupting a superior officer?

Misaka 103 (accepting the reproach with grace): Sir, yes, sir!

Misaka 13 (proud of her work but anticipating trouble): Successful sniper and anti-aircraft support must have revealed our position. The enemy knows where we are now.

Misaka 1 (in a businesslike tone now): ETA for Anti-Skill supported by APCs and heavy exo-suits to your position is four (4) minutes. Further delays would likely reveal our hand.

Accelerator (acknowledging and adding that to his calculations): We're done here, so that's fine. Here, this is for passing on to Anti-Skill. Hardcopy too, if you can manage it.

Misaka 404 (in high spirits, eager to take part in the mission): I can handle that!

Accelerator (thankful for their help but worried about the risks the Sisters are taking): Make sure to wrap up your withdrawal with great care, all of you. The cult leader is likely equal to Mikoto in their subversive digital capabilities.

Misaka 55 (laughing, hoping to show off her skills): Let them come!

Accelerator (actually more worried now):…

Accelerator (determined): If any of you get into trouble, just send up a flare and I will be there in an instant.

Misaka 1 (confident and reassuring, but still elevating OPSEC protocols): We will be careful. Talk to you soon, Accelerator.

Misaka Network communication being what it was, the exchange had taken barely a couple of seconds. I threw one last glance in the direction of the forward squad's position atop the skyscraper in the distance before turning back to the emitter poles for the plasma curtain.

For all that the Sisters had been a tremendous help - according to Kinuhata Misaka 13 might well have saved Takitsubo with her precision shooting - I still felt conflicted about involving them in the first place.

They had wanted to help. Misaka 1 fairly browbeat me into accepting their support, both for unhackable communications and coordination and their overwatch position. But I still felt like I was taking part in the militarization of the Sisters.

It was what they had initially been intended for. And I feared that any development in that direction would be eagerly taken up and taken to horrific extremes by the higher-ups. I didn't want them used as disposable soldiers, as literal clone troopers, and I knew that few apart from myself and Mikoto would consider them equal in worth to 'normal' human soldiers.

All I wanted, when I built new weapons and body armor for the Sisters, was for them to be safe. I wanted them to be able to defend themselves and have whatever they needed to give them the best possible chances if they did get in a fight for some reason. Not prepare them for war.

For now, their role in many of the cooperative institutions was merely that of 'security consultants' in addition to research assistants. But that might change. It might change very quickly indeed, given the wrong situation.

And, selfishly, I didn't want to consider the inevitable outcome if they did take on a paramilitary role. There were always casualties, after all.

Then again, the Sisters had grown a lot as individuals over the last few months and the Heaven Canceller assured me that they were mature enough to make such a decision for themselves individually. Or for their network as a whole, through their internal democratic process.

The fraction of Sisters that were not inclined to pursuits of this nature to some degree was small and that of Sisters completely opposed to violence or military service on personal, political, or philosophical grounds even smaller.

Maybe a part of that was the military discipline and skills that had been part of their foundational Testament download. Literally their character, as in stamped into them with a metaphorical press.

They were a bunch of adorably quirky teenage girls, but at the same time they could be a rather scary group of perfectly coordinated military operators.

Although maybe that wasn't all that different from the rest of us. Both Mikoto and I were comfortable with violence to a degree that would shock and dismay any pediatric psychologist from outside the city, after all.

I sighed. In the end, all I could do was support them as best I could and try to make sure that no one pressured them or drove them into a corner.

My hand reached through the plasma curtain to touch the brass exterior of the emitter pole before me. With the mechanism's ICE Shell active, propagating my vector control inside to break the circuit and shut it off took several seconds each even with the key in my possession.

The twisty, self-referential structures, inspired by the higher-dimensional mirror maze I got lost in every time I tried to follow my own hypercognition processes, were meant to slow down anyone trying to interfere with their workings. It wasn't quite Black ICE yet, but it was a promising avenue for development. ~~Maybe I could test it on one or two of my prisoners.~~

"Curtain's going down," I called out to Mugino and the others. "Get your casualties out of here and we'll rendezvous for debrief later."

Both Takitsubo and Seiveluun needed professional medical care, not just field expedient treatment. A foam bandage would stop the bleeding but the blonde demolition expert needed the attention of a proper surgeon. And the sooner the clairvoyant's regenerative treatment was started the better.

After quickly securing my ~~loot~~technology samples and prisoners I returned to District 10 by AG ramjet flight to observe the tail end of the multi-pronged attack I had set into motion with the help of the Sisters.

The primary target, the subverted Miwa University Neuropathology Research Laboratory, we had of course personally taken care of.

Pillars of smoke marked the location of the conflict even from a distance. A triangle of gouges driven deep into the earth delineated the edges of the warzone, cutting through roads and even through empty buildings.

Then there was the main facility with its facade blasted open and the adjacent road and parking lot strewn with rubble. Smoke issued through empty windows from the blackened interior. Crushed mechanical bodies mixed with organic elements, detached limbs, and leaks of strange fluids marked the remains of combat cyborgs.

Scattered across the surrounding cityscape lay the wreckage of the VTOL gunship, marked by shattered glass, pillars of smoke where buildings had been set aflame, and craters where exotic ammunition had gone off uncontrolled.

Amid the molten and cratered ruin that was the street at the building's front, the incapacitated survivors, victims and perpetrators alike were laid out in neat rows and were swarmed by Anti-Skill and medical personnel. A squad of paramilitary operators in power armor was securing the area while a second squad was ranging through the surrounding streets and dousing fires.

So far, so good. All Anti-Skill had to do was load them up and transfer them to prisons and medical holding facilities. And there shouldn't be any more threats remaining at this location.

But there were the secondary locations as well, the subverted Skill-Out bases.

There too I saw Anti-Skill out in force with heavy support: APCs with gun turrets. Powered armors employing heavy-duty riot suppression gear and carrying mil-spec weaponry as backup. Even a few five-meter tall mechs on overwatch duty.

Both the mechs and the APCs were marked with the letters 'MAR'. Wasn't that the organization that Hamazura had said was doing under-the-table deals with Skill-Out? If they had this kind of hardware then they clearly were a much bigger deal than had been apparent from a brief lookup of their web presence. I'd have to give them a hard second look when I had a moment.

Faced with such opposition I doubted the armed groups would have won in the end. But with the advanced military hardware provided by the cult, there would no doubt have been large numbers of casualties on both sides.

Not that it mattered, because the drone strikes that the Sisters had performed had already broken the cult auxiliaries' resistance by the time MAR and Anti-Skill arrived. Calculated dispersal of C22-Gas had incapacitated the majority of those still susceptible to chemical agents. And, working on the theory that anyone with enough metal to be immune was likely to be a full cult member and therefore an enemy combatant, they had followed up with targeted EM lance strikes on those still standing.

This was not a strategy without risk, of course. The problem with incapacitating agents was always the dosage. You couldn't guarantee an even dispersal, especially with rapid deployment. Even if you could, different people would still react differently depending on body mass and other individual factors. And an overdose would often lead to respiratory depression and death by suffocation.

There had been significant work done on solving this problem, of course. There were nanite agents that could tailor their effect to each individual automatically. But those would be susceptible to technopathy. So I had modified one of Academy City's more conventional compounds that already possessed an improved efficacy/safety profile to also be antagonized by intra-neuronal lactate if it rose to a level indicating hypoxia. The actual trials had, by necessity, been small, but I had run extensive simulations.

And evidently things had worked out quite well. Instead of extended gun battles involving assault rifles, grenade launchers, military-grade lasers, and plasma guns, the main difficulty seemed to be processing and interning the large numbers of prisoners. And securing all their illegal hardware.

Without isolation barriers in place, I didn't doubt that any useful information they might have was long gone. But the aim here had been to deprive their organization of assets and prove to the regular authorities that this was a higher caliber of threat than your usual run-off-the-mill science cult.

Anti-Skill was not capable of dealing with Deus Ex Mechanicus as a whole, but greater awareness and readiness would serve to make all their future steps more difficult. Especially since they were now without a convenient portal creator allowing for untraceable logistics.

I'd planned to spend just one chapter on the aftermath, but things kind of ballooned. There seems to be a tendency for me to get more wordy the longer I'm working on something. Even if it's just one or two days a week I have the energy to get anything done, strangely enough.

Also I'm rewriting the debrief with ITEM from scratch, since the first draft didn't really work. Next chapter.

One-Way Road - Accelerator SI vs. the Toaru-verse Black Phoenix - A Harry Potter OC SI via Waifu Catalogue

The Pendragon Contingency - Warhammer 40K SI as DAoT!Arthur Pendragon Cosmic's dreams of distant worlds - Snippet archive

One-Way Road 18 - Aftermath

Briefly checking in back at my laboratory I reclaimed my phone from Misaka 78, who had been ~~manning frankensteining~~improving my phone (as she put it) during the operation, as part of her electronic counter-intelligence duties. There had been a couple of missed messages and a phone call from Mikoto, she reported.

Something about bioterrorism and a secret science project to manipulate public opinions.

I tried to call Mikoto back - due to the time differences it should still be afternoon over there instead of the middle of the night - but no joy. Either she had busted her phone again, though with her control that happened only in all-out combat nowadays, or more likely her connectivity was restricted for some reason.

Listening to the recording of her call a second time I smiled. It was good to hear her voice, even if she seemed stressed. Which was only natural of course, if she was most going up against a Dark Side project halfway around the world. A weird little piece of synchronicity, but then she was even less likely than myself to tolerate that sort of thing when she came across it.

It was one of the things I admired about her. For me, the moral high ground was an unfamiliar and somewhat uncomfortable place that wasn't always easy to find, but she just naturally and effortlessly arrived there more often than not. This wasn't to say that she was always nice, humble, or even right about it, but I'd take youthful arrogance over deliberate malice every day.

And I trusted Mikoto to come out on top against just about anything I thought they could throw at her. Dark Side ventures could be nasty and deeply tricky, but a cooperative institution should have waters nowhere near as abyssal as Academy City itself.

But she still shouldn't have to face that sort of shit on her own.

"Is she in contact with the squad of Sisters over there?"

"'Misaka 11744, 18618 and 19002 have volunteered to support Big Sis,' Misaka reports with some pride."

Misaka 78 had her beloved headphones hanging around her neck and had replaced her electron goggles with protective glasses incorporating AR functionality and strong magnification, made for professional micro-engineers. Given her gearhead tendencies I suspected that playing around with my phone wasn't all she had done while ensconced here, but I could check my workshop for disturbances later.

"Can you contact them or route a call through the Radio Noise network?"

Seventy-Eight tilted her head slightly. "'It should be possible,' Misaka says slowly while working through the requirements in her head."

She spun her chair around a few times while making thoughtful noises, then she kicked against the ground to scoot over to me and, without so much as a comment or question, wriggled a slender hand into my pants pocket to reclaim my phone. I raised an eyebrow at the casual invasion of my personal space but I was more amused than anything else.

"'Mmh, mmh. Mmh, mmh,' makes Misaka as she implements the protocol she adapted from the drone guidance system. 'There.'"

Sparks flew from her head and around the hands she had closed around the phone. The speaker crackled, then issued a ringtone. The symbol of my regular carrier had been replaced by a winking smiley with lightning bolts for hair and this time the phone call went through.

"Accelerator! Can you stop a hydrogen bomb?" In lieu of a greeting Mikoto's voice cut through the room with a weird non-sequitur. The urgency in her tone made my heartbeat jump upwards.

"Sure," I answered immediately. "As long as I'm close enough."

"… the way you can say that without a moment's hesitation pisses me off for some reason. But right now that unfair power of yours might be exactly what we need."

There was a plot, Mikoto proceeded to explain in rapid-fire words, to destroy Academy City in order to raise the value of the scraps of advanced science and technology held by the cooperative institutions in other parts of the world. Agents of Economics City had smuggled a hydrogen bomb inside our city but Mikoto's investigation, with assistance from the Sisters and from Judgment, had already led to the capture of the culprits and the device. The backup plan supposedly was a straight-up bombing with modified Mig-21 fighters.

Just how many people were trying to deploy fusion-based weaponry in Academy City tonight? It wasn't even a full moon for the lunatics to come out all at once.

"They'll never even come close," I stated reasonably. "Unless there are powers involved," by which I meant magic, "there is no way for them to hide from Academy City's military technology and avoid being shot down."

"I know they shouldn't. Just…" Mikoto made a noise of frustration. "When I read those plans they sounded so sure that I can't help but think I'm missing something. And I still don't have all the pieces to put them together. So there might be some trick or secret device to make it work. And if there is…"

She trailed off, her tone one of hushed dread. If Academy City was destroyed she would lose nearly everything she cared about. And with her operating on her own over there, far from anything familiar and her network of support, it had to feel as if the weight of the entire world was resting on her shoulders alone.

"Misaka. Mikoto," I addressed her solemnly. There was a strange squawk as if the connection briefly suffered from interference. "We won't let that happen. You are not alone and you don't have to bear all of that by yourself. I will help however I can, there was never any question about that. And the Sisters will too, I'm sure."

There was a brief pause, then Mikoto burst into an emotionally charged shout: "I know that, you idiot! That's why I'm telling you to get off your ass and take care of things on your side. Make yourself useful for once, instead of playing with robots or something!"

Someone sniggered in the background. Was Mikoto on speaker phone, too?

Misaka 78, who had been listening in on the call with keen interest, sagged in her chair as if in disappointment.

"Alright, alright," I acquiesced a bit confused. Talking over the phone really was the worst. Now I had somehow made her angry when all I wanted was to make her feel less pressured and alone. "I'll do that. We'll keep in touch through the Sisters."

There were a lot of other things I still had to do tonight, but making sure that Academy City's defenses worked as intended shouldn't take too long. And if, for some ungodly reason, I did detect a sudden neutrino flux I'd know what to do.

"Good!" There was the voice in the background again, neither Mikoto nor one of the Sisters, and a quick but indistinct exchange. When Mikoto's voice returned her tone was much less belligerent. "I have to go. The bad guys have a giant robot. Of course they do."

"Good hunting then," I bid her farewell.

"You too," Mikoto replied and I could almost see her smirk with renewed confidence. Then her tone turned softer. "Keep them safe, will you? And don't die, you dummy."

That was a peace offer, I guessed, though what had set her off earlier I still wasn't sure.

Misaka 78 held the disconnected phone out to me with one hand while facepalming with the other.

"'Why are both of them so bad at this,' Misaka complains to herself in disappointment."

"Yes, boss. Interception is already in progress. As for the device, it's been secured and they're already transporting it to The Hole."

This sort of thing was an area where Nokleben with his spiderweb of (sometimes rather dubious) connections excelled. Following the successful joint mission, he'd reported, his little black book now also included the number of ITEM's Voice On The Phone, who in turn had direct lines to at least one Director.

"Already?" That was mighty fast.

Keitz leaned back in his leather-backed chair and shuffled the notes in his hands.

"Anti-Skill and Judgment were already running down the last of the foreign agents. But reading between the lines, someone in Intelligence had a 'very special' source, too. Maybe they put in a Tree Diagram priority analysis job, I don't know."

"So that's everything handled." The statement felt strange on my tongue.

With my control over my physiology there were no negative side-effects to fading adrenaline, but I still felt vaguely disappointed. What, had I thought I was going to charge in like some superhero to save the day at the last second to the admiration of some damsel in distress? Please.

No matter what kind of yield that thing had, once it reached The Hole that would be it. The former site of the Lambda Complex Dimensional Research Facility had gained a bit of dark fame in certain circles for being the place Academy City used to lock down the most risky of experiments.

Of course, given the kinds of things that went on in Academy City every day, the stuff that even the mad scientists thought was 'kind of risky' was enough to give anyone nightmares. And putting it all in one place was a recipe for ghost stories and cautionary tales. A dark mirror to the legendary Imaginary Number District.

"Unclear," Nokleben made a so-so gesture with one hand. "We don't know for sure that it's just the one device. Even Tree Diagram wouldn't be able to tell for sure without more data."

"Besides, nobody who knows to take us seriously would think that a simple fusion device would be enough to take us out," I added, perversely reassured that things probably weren't so easy. "So, intel straight from the source remains the most important thing. I thought so."

I wondered what Mikoto would have done in a timeline where we weren't on speaking terms. Kuroko and her Judgment branch had proven quite competent in sniffing out the foreign agents. Of course, as long as the message went through Academy City phone lines at any point the information would probably reach the higher-ups either way. And there were prepared contingencies for this sort of thing for sure.

Stretching briefly I looked backwards and took in the view over Academy City at night from the Keitz' office on the forty-fourth floor of a high-rise office building. Either way, my night was far from over.

"Keep on it, put the updates on my phone," I instructed my minion chief of intelligence. "CC for the Misaka Network duty operator so they can coordinate and keep Misaka informed."

Then I let myself fall over backwards off the windowsill and outside. A quick twist in mid air, then I caught the air with the vector transformation field of my arms and I was off.

I'd do a flyby to check on the transport and see if I could pick out an emission signature that could be used to find or rule out a second device. No doubt the authorities were already on that and had technology beyond the dreams of other powers, but my vector transformation field probably had all of their detectors beat when focused on the analysis aspect.

With a bit of luck I wouldn't be much too late for my next meeting.

ITEM had chosen a private parking lot behind an auto mechanical repair shop for the meeting. Their massive armored truck tried to paint me with radar on my aerial approach but my EM transparency algorithm, now on version six, had no trouble with that.

Takitsubo, of course, unerringly pointed out my flight path to Mugino standing beside her. I had felt her clairvoyant gaze on me several times since we'd parted, although she had stopped after I'd made an effort to trace back the IPD resonance just as I'd learned to do with the Level Upper connections.

The clairvoyant was wearing one of her signature pink tracksuits but also a blocky covering over her eyes that looked a bit like an old-fashioned VR helmet. ITEM did have the connections to get an expert consultation even at this time of the night, it seemed. But blind or not, her ability was clearly unaffected and she fulfilled her duties faithfully.

Despite looking soft at a first glance - maybe even soft in the head with her dreamy, lethargic demeanor - there was a strength to this girl. A powerful resolve, to support her friends even at the cost of permanent damage to herself. And her courage was not to be underestimated either, seeing as she regularly went into heavy combat without a combat-capable ability or even just regular weapon skills like her blonde teammate.

Letting go of my EM transparency and the ramjet propulsion I slowed down to a simple one-tenth gravity descending arc and touched down a few meters away.

The other ITEM girls were already back to joking around. Seivelun was wearing a servo-assisted brace for her injured leg and was cradling an oversized gun like a baby while carrying the plasma gun on her back.

"No, you don't understand," she was explaining to Kinuhata. "This is not 'just a gun'. This is a fully automatic miniature RPG launcher. Armor-piercing tips and high explosive yield - these would basically splatter any unarmored opponent all over the place. And there are specialty munitions too! This one is white phosphorus, this one has some kind of acid, and I think this one might be some sort of cryogenic charge. Oh, I can't wait to try them out~!"

"I get it, you super love your new toys. Just don't test them in our new apartment or Mugino will get super pissed. Again."

"Yeah, yeah… Accelerator!" Seivelun lit up with manic energy as she noticed me arriving and abandoned Kinuhata in favor of approaching me. "That plasma gun was the best thing ever! Do you think I can get an in with your supplier? The ammunition was gone way too fast…"

"Frenda…" Mugino said the name with a warning undertone and the blonde bomber's eyes went wide before she mimed zipping her lips shut.

"And I might see what I can do," I equivocated amusedly. These weapons wouldn't stay restricted to properly authorized personnel, I was under no illusions about that. So while I didn't really like playing Merchant of Death for professional killers, I might still make an exception in the name of good relations.

Mugino stepped forward. She had switched to a slightly different style of dress made of several layers of gauzy fabric that emphasized her beauty in the best way, hinting at but never actually showing what lay beneath. No doubt it was expensive as hell, too.

"So," she began, "that was bracing."

"That's certainly one way to say it," Kinuhata drily commented, sotto voce.

"Nothing like a bit of mortal danger to spice up the day," Mugino continued, grinning dangerously and ignoring the interjection. "You certainly didn't disappoint in that regard."

"I wouldn't call on you of all people for small fry," I said, meeting her eyes without hesitation.

There was a moment of mounting tension between us. An ambiguous tension that could easily break in several ways. With her tone and demeanor so ambiguous, she might thank me or she might try to kill me. But at this point, what did I care?

Out of the corner of my eyes I could see Kinuhata's body language sharpening and Seivelun's eyes going wide with fear even as one of her hands went out of sight to grip something.

Then Mugino broke into a deep belly laugh. "Hah. Too right. That would be worse than overkill: Terribly boring," she agreed with a cruel grin, throwing a strain of hair back over her shoulder in a leisurely movement that drew the eye. "This, however, was definitely worthy of my attention." She tilted her head slightly and playfully tapped a finger to her lips. "You know, they say you should measure a man by his enemies…"

She trailed off, leaving it unclear whether she actually intended it as a compliment. I wasn't quite sure what her game was now, was it just reinforcing her own reputation or something else?

"And a professional by the quality of their work," I inclined my head in recognition, eliciting a broadening of her grin. To say this much cost me nothing, so why not.

The other ITEM girls had relaxed again as Mugino had started to laugh, though Seivelun made a strange expression at our back and forth.

"We didn't get the cult leader," I segued into more familiar territory, "but her telepresence might not have been enough even if Takitsubo hadn't been down at that point. Still, two of her lieutenants and several lesser officers is a good enough tally for me to call it a major success…"

We spent a few minutes going over the details of the operation with the girls filling in a few details and observations. I had wondered how the strange splatter pattern in the ground level operation room had come to pass.

All in all I was satisfied with their performance. Undoubtedly there had been casualties among the innocent victims of the cult. But considering the difficulty I'd had distinguishing them from fully indoctrinated members, there was no way they could have done it while engaged in active combat.

And sure, despite the positive spin Mugino put on things - intentionally or due to her own biases, I wasn't entirely sure - ITEM had been pushed to their limits and would undoubtedly have taken losses if they had been on their own. But that was within my calculations. Professionals though they were, they were simply not in my league and even I had had some minor difficulties.

I was kind of impressed Mugino had been ready to put herself in front of her team and try to Meltdown a nuclear fireball. And that while under the effect of the Capacity Down sonic weapon, which I recognized from her description.

"What's their super damage anyway," Kinuhata complained as the after-action review wound down. "Are they just some science cult that went under the radar for too long?"

"I'm not one hundred percent sure," I made a so-so gesture. "Their metallokinetic, Aurax, said some disconcerting things."

In simple words I shared a brief summary of what he had told me, minus the whole magic thing.

"There is no telling how much of it is spin, psyops, or straight-up bullshit, of course. But, given the known attitudes of the higher-ups, it seems unfortunately plausible."

"Tch." Kinuhata looked grim but unsurprised. I kind of hated seeing that resigned acceptance on a face so young. For all her professional attitude and lethal power she couldn't be older than eleven or twelve.

With Seivelun I could see the wheels turning in her head. "Then… that means when those guys in that other mission back then talked about 'the previous generation' they weren't just blowing smoke. Too bad we killed them all and can't ask them about it, oopsie~."

Mugino just grimaced. "I want to say it can't be true, that it has to be an attempt at gaslighting," she said slowly. "Considering the kind of power and profits we Level 5s represent to the city it should be unthinkable. But with all that we've seen…"

She exchanged glances heavy with meaning with her team, looking quite uncomfortable with the very idea and even more so with how she couldn't quite deny it. "For now, not a word about this stuff to anyone, understood?" Mugino finally instructed her team.

"Yes, Mugino." "Sure, boss." "Super acknowledged."

That was probably for the best. Having a contingency against betrayal from above wouldn't go amiss either. But that was something they'd presumably want to talk about among themselves.

"Either way," I shrugged, not as unconcerned with being stabbed in the back by the superintendent as I pretended to be but also quite sure that I had more pressing issues, "this machine-god cult is a threat to the city and its civilian population. As soon as their remnants poke their head out of whatever hole they crawled into, I'm going to stomp on them with extreme prejudice."

That was a much more comfortable subject, it appeared, and Mugino perked right up.

"Speaking of which, the next time you or your people have a job for ITEM our services won't be so inexpensive," she said nonchalantly, with the air of someone to whom a billion Yen was basically nothing. "You may be a better sort of client than we usually deal with and know how to have some proper fun, but we're still professionals and have our reputation to consider." She shrugged. "Consider this occasion a one time promotional deal."

"I'll keep you in mind for the next time I need a mass casualty event," I said drily, ignoring the reference to 'my people' with an emphasis I couldn't quite decipher, rather than make a fool out of myself by asking.

Seivelun winced a little at my rejoinder, one hand playing with the rim of her skirt frettingly.

"We're not just killers for hire, you know," Mugino protested after a beat. "I mean, yes, we are mercenaries. But we serve an important function in this city," she insisted. "We preserve order and balance. We get rid of traitors. We punish those who go too far.

"Most of what we do is on behalf of the higher-ups to keep the really bad stuff under control. The whacked-out scientists that get kicked out even out of Dark Side projects, the teachers that take liberties, the organized crime that threatens to spill into the streets. We break the ones who break the rules. And there are rules, as you well know!"

By the end there her tone had gotten a bit passionate even.

She really believed that, didn't she? It was a fucked up order, but I could see how she might see it as a good thing. Keeping the Dark Side contained and apart from the bright and shiny parts, and seeing it as a matter of honor, as following a code of sorts, it kind of fit what I knew of her.

Criminal nobility, was she? This then seemed to be her interpretation of noblesse oblige. Or, less romantically, her version of the omerta or other codes of conduct for organized crime.

Still, even if all they did was keep the boiler from exploding, ultimately it did also serve to protect civilians to some extent. So I wasn't about to say anything against it.

"Fair enough," I acquiesced, my hands raised in a gesture of concession. "I didn't mean to imply you were low-class about it."

Mugino huffed but seemed to accept that as enough of a concession to her status as killer with principles. Which, on second thought, I probably shouldn't grumble about too much anyway. People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones after all.

"Since you are so well connected," I eventually segued into a related topic, "do any of the projects that guy mentioned mean anything to you?" I rattled off the list of code words mentioned by the cult magos.

"Are you sure he said 'Tree Diagram'?" Seivelun made an exaggerated incredulous expression. "I mean, everyone knows about that and weather forecasting isn't exactly Dark Side material. Besides that satellite's been up there basically forever…"

I just shrugged. That downright magical piece of irreproducible hardware having been up there without upgrades for longer than any of us could remember was just another clue that something was off about it, in my book. But it was clear that whatever it was, it was buried under a mountain of half-truths too big to get anywhere quickly.

While Seivelun had seized the initiative, Mugino, Kinuhata, and - somehow, despite being blinded - Takitsubo had been exchanging meaningful looks.

"I've heard some things about White Alligator," Mugino volunteered after a moment. "Supposedly it was a military project to raise esper levels and turn them into special forces operators of sorts through an exceedingly harsh training program." She shrugged carelessly. "Another failure, most likely, or we would have heard more bragging by now.

"I don't know about the others." She briefly looked at Kinuhata, who after a moment's hesitation gave a minuscule nod. "… except for Dark May."

"Dark May was…" Kinuhata's voice was small and flat, her expression distant. "They implanted foreign thought and calculation patterns into espers to see how it affected our personal realities and power expressions." She hesitated, clearly uncomfortable. "They were hoping that using data from the first-ranked Level 5," her eyes briefly strayed to me before flinching away, "would boost our powers."

What the bleeding fuck? I caught myself before giving voice to my thoughts or flexing my power strongly enough to break something, but my body language must have been clear enough for Kinuhata to reflexively shrink away from me.

Taking a deep breath I tried to master my knee-jerk outrage. Who the hell had gotten their hands on that sort of confidential data? And what kind of blithering moron had thought that sandblasting childrens' brains with that stuff was in any way a good idea?

But in retrospect that explained a hell of a lot about Kinuhata's, well, everything. The similarity in power expression and mathematics I'd noted. Her strange mood swings. The complicated expressions when she'd first seen me and when I had spoken to her. How had I not seen it before?

Breathe in, breathe out. Don't frighten the victim. Save that rising urge to kill for the perpetrators.

"Well," I said, with forced levity, trying to make sure that my body language was as unthreatening as possible, "that's a-", ~~very interesting~~, "seriously shitty thing to do to someone. How did that work out for you?"

"Ok for some. Like me and two or three others. Our abilities changed and became a lot stronger." Kinuhata shrugged. "A bunch of the others went super crazy and had to be put down. A few had minor improvements. Most didn't show any obvious changes, though. They were the super worst off." She frowned in unpleasant reminiscence. "The scientists kept thinking of new trials to 'bring out their power'. Or they eventually called them trash and sold them off to Produce. That's the project, where they cut espers into thin slices trying to see where in their body the abilities were located, by the way."

Stars above, for her to say all that so matter-of-factly. It was enough for me to get flashbacks to another girl telling me about her scheduled destructive testing without a care in the world. But this one probably wouldn't react as well to headpats as Misaka One had. Kinuhata seemed to be worrying that I'd blame her for what had been done to her, for 'profiting' from my own achievements.

If I thought that it would help, that she'd accept it, I would… what, give her a hug? From what I've seen she wasn't any better than I was at that touchy feely stuff. Depending on what exactly they had implanted into her she might get exactly as violently prickly about it as I might, if I thought someone was looking down on me by pitying me. And I was a stranger to her besides.

Fuck, I hated this. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Tch. It figures. Bastards, the lot of them. Good on you for getting through that alive and prospering." I gave Kinuhata a small nod of acknowledgement.

Her closed off expression, clearly expecting the other shoe to drop following her admission, turned to confusion. "Huh?"

"Hey, I'm not about to go [There can be only one!] and hunt down everyone implanted with a piece of that data or anything like that. That would be moronic."

Kinuhata clearly recognized the English quote and, despite herself, burst into a brief cackle of laughter tinged with hysteric relief.

"Now, this 'Dark May Project'…" I let the words linger on my tongue despite the bad taste. "Is it still running?"

"No," Mugino interjected herself back into the conversation. "It went down in flames about a year back."

" More like a meltdown," Seivelun mouthed behind Mugino' back, waggling her eyebrows in her boss' direction.

"I see," I nodded. So Mugino had gotten Kinuhata out of there? Or gotten revenge on her behalf? That figured. Good on her. "Who was in charge of that clown show then?"

"A scientist by the name of Kihara Amata. He and his understudy Kihara Souji were the project leads," Kinuhata spoke up. She seemed more collected now and was capable of meeting my eyes, now that she wasn't weighed down by the worry that I would hate her, murder her, or whatever else she'd thought of.

"Kihara Amata." The name came out with a degree of venom that surprised me myself. "I thought that bastard was long dead."

Takitsubo shivered at my tone, but Kinuhata showed a little smile full of purest schadenfreude.

"But if he faked his death back then, it just figures that he would be involved with shit like this." I cracked my knuckles, at length. "I think I'm going to have a little chat with those people. You know, maybe catch up on old times…"

My hands twisted, the air distorting wildly around them, in anticipation of exorcizing the devil of my youth with copious application of cathartic violence and I let out a dark cackle.

Mugino, grinning in bloodthirsty approval, turned to Takitsubo: "Make a note: We definitely don't feel like taking any contracts on behalf of Amata, Souji, or those Produce guys."

"You aren't going to go all crusader on us though, are you?" Seivelun was probably aiming for an incredulous and slightly derisive tone, but it came out with too much trepidation to serve as she intended. The idea that I might go on a roaring rampage against any kind of Dark Side concern, potentially putting us at odds in the future, couldn't be a fun one.

"I'm not in the hero business," I denied, "but I do have a particular distaste for that sort of thing. Besides, it's wasteful and pseudo-science at best. More importantly though, I'm going to reclaim my intellectual property."

Kinuhata winced slightly at my phrasing, but kept grinning at the idea of the minds behind the experiments she'd been subjected to receiving their just deserts.

"No worries," I assured her in a less combative tone, "as long as you aren't going to pass on anything to third parties I have no problem with you. In fact, if you're up for it we could see about further development. My lab will soon have full Ability Development accreditation and I do have some ideas for things we could try to further refine your Offense Armor." I paused briefly. "And just to be clear, I hold myself to a far higher standard of competence than those hacks."

"You wouldn't be trying to poach one of my people now, would you?" Mugino's smile was as sweet as poisoned honey. A sticky charge built in the air.

"Perish the thought," I deferred. "I just hate to see talent and potential wasted by imbeciles not even worth their lab coats."

Besides, with that thought implantation thing, wouldn't that sort of make Kinuhata my own equivalent to Mikoto's Sisters, only in reverse?

She still looked a little doubtful so I added: "Isn't it the same for you? Standing at the very top would be a worthless position, if it was because the challengers never got the development they needed to realize their potential. All espers deserve their chance to reach for the sky. And I would welcome a newcomer who posed an actual challenge. Only steel sharpens steel, after all."

That was something I truly believed. Sure, I had better reason than most to be confident that raising other espers' level wouldn't lead to my being relegated to inferiority. But beyond that, our abilities were the expression of our innermost self, the nascent divinity of humanity. To express ourselves to the fullest should be a human right.

Some of my passion must have convinced Mugino of my honesty because her expression turned pensive and then into a toothy smile. "In other words, 'bring it, scrubs' and no excuses allowed? Sure, I can get behind that."

She paused briefly before recalling how we had arrived at this tangent. "Anyway. Whatever you do to recover your 'intellectual property', it doesn't matter to us." She made a dismissive gesture. "ITEM only gets involved in disputes between Dark Side factions if they do it in public, if they involve civilians, or if they threaten the board's bottom line."

That was probably more to reassure Seivelun than me, though I did take her point about the unwritten rules, so to speak, of Dark Side activities.

"And I couldn't care less about assholes who jump into the deep end of the pool and then mess it up," I shrugged. "That's just business."

They wouldn't get in my way so long as they weren't forced to from above. And neither would I have any reason to get in theirs, so long as they didn't go too far beyond their usual range of acceptable targets.

"Of course," I added after a moment. "There are lines that should never be crossed."

"I hear you. Business is business and personal is personal." Mugino nodded, solemnly. "Nobody wants it to be personal."

She said it without particular emphasis, but with her back straight and her eyes meeting mine sharp enough to cut the reciprocal threat was clear enough.

Everyone had people they did not want to lose. Everyone had a bottom line. There was a point beyond which all bets were off. And if one of us ever got pushed that far…

"Nobody wants that," I agreed, matching her nod.

We understood one another, I thought.

My phone beeped and I looked at the latest update from Keitz. "Right. That's my cue. See you around."

"Bye~" Seivelun stuck to her cutesy persona to the end. Kinuhata just nodded.

"Good hunting," Mugino added, casually playing with a strain of her long hair. "I might get back to you about the Body Crystal thing later."

Then I was off, shooting straight up into the air at just barely subsonic speed but with nary a breeze ruffling the ITEM girls' hair.

"And there he goes, doing the Superman thing. I wonder if I could super learn how to do that…"

The bombers had been intercepted and the fusion device had been transferred to The Hole without incident. Air space control was alert and on the lookout for unregistered UAVs. Unless there was a fourth layer to Economics City's gambit, we were safe. And Mikoto was on top of that, already in pursuit of the suspected perpetrator, the Sisters had reported.

Despite knowing how capable Mikoto was, I worried about her. Dealing with stuff like this, it was difficult to come out of it with clean hands. I knew that from unfortunate experience.

But then I had already accepted that, so long as I kept to certain principles, I would dirty my hands as much as was needed to preserve that which deserved protection.

"Raaaaahh!" Alongside the buzzing, inhuman scream the cult esper's IDF flailed about wildly as I allowed them to return to consciousness.

Their power appeared to be a surprisingly broad-ranged form of carbon control. I had removed as much of the nanostructured carbon material that had made up their chassis as I could, but there were some parts that just weren't practical to replace so quickly.

That's where the vibrations that constituted the 'scream' were coming from, because the esper certainly didn't have any conventional mouth. In fact, it wouldn't have been inaccurate to call them a 'brain in a jar' after Mugino had vaporized most of their machine body and I had replaced most of the rest of their brain case.

As the pitch of the buzzing reached higher and higher the flailing of their power intensified, rippling with exertion in hysteric strength. Any structure with significant carbon content could theoretically fall under their control.

But practically it was without any effect whatsoever. My power permeated every particle, every molecular bond, every vibration of matter and every electromagnetic wave in this cell. In a very literal way I was in total control of reality here.

This was not to say that I had overcome my primary limitation, the nature of my vector transformation power to extend into reality only as a two-dimensional hyperplane congruent for the most part with my skin. Not yet. Extending it from a single layer into a three-dimensional domain would be a quantum leap of development that I had not yet managed.

But I had made large strides in shaping my barrier: Extending it along objects, including or excluding structures and people close to my body, or in this case wrapping the notional representation of my hands all around this little room. For all that the esper raged, they were in a way dancing upon the palm of my hand.

Only their inner thoughts were their own, though my perception ranged into the preternatural here as well. If they were to try and turn their power upon themselves to commit suicide, then I was confident I could stop them.

"Stop it," I admonished them sharply while also adjusting slightly upward the dosage of antipsychotics. "I know fully well that you can see, hear, speak and act rationally. Acting like a madperson is beneath you."

Well, it might just have been a panic attack at waking up in this state, but my analysis of their neuronal activity didn't match the pattern I would expect in that case.

Silence. Their IDF continued to strain for control over every bit of carbonaceous material, but it might as well have been an infant's grasping fingers scrabbling at a perfectly smooth and solid steel surface.

"Much better," I smiled grimly, looking into the photoreceptors I'd wired into their augmented brain's sensory data port.

"Do your worst, devil," this time the buzzing was shaped into intelligible words. "I have seen the face of God and She has bid me to keep the faith. I will not speak to a benighted infidel!"

Yes, that's about what I expected. I could see strong activity along the limbic system and the temporal lobe consistent with religious fervor, probably induced by an induced artificial neural activation pattern that I could not yet fully grasp.

It's something I had done myself on acceptable targets by accident.

This would be so much easier, if I could just hack their brains and extract their memories directly. I knew that the Accelerator of a different timeline had been capable of something like that in the case of Last Order. And if it was one of the Sisters I thought I probably could navigate their mental software enough to do it. Maybe.

My familiarity with their neurology was of a more theoretical bent, having been achieved by extensive study, through the Radio Noise documentation, and with the help of Nunotaba Shinobu who had designed a lot of it.

I shuddered inwardly at the thought of how that other version of myself would have gained his knowledge required to save the youngest of the Sisters. At what I might have done myself, if not for the perspective gained from my other memories.

In any case, natural brains were not structured according to an intelligently designed neural architecture and didn't run a plethora of human programmed mental software. The same factors that made the Last Order of that timeline vulnerable to viral software, also made it orders of magnitude easier to get rid of it.

For normal humans, I could discern lies from truthful recall and subconscious confabulation, I could assess emotional states and decode sensory data, but the deeper layers were beyond my reach yet. The lessons learned from perceiving my own brain at work were only in small part applicable to others.

It would require deeply intrusive levels of analysis and quite a bit of practice to go any further, although since I did have a number of test subjects now that was no longer an insurmountable obstacle.

Of course, from an ethical perspective it wasn't their status as enemy agents that made a certain degree of experimentation allowable, but rather their suffering under hostile mind control.

Human trials of new drugs were commonly done on patients with a terminal disease or otherwise beyond the help of conventional methods, after all. And the same principle applied if I considered these people at risk for permanent death of personality. If there was a chance that drastic action could help them, then it was worth a try. ~~And I could play with their brain meats without feeling too bad about it.~~

But for now, in this particular case… I sighed. It would probably make the deprogramming even harder, but I need actionable intelligence and quickly.

My vector field control infiltrating their audio and visual processing cortex had long decoded the neural processing in those areas. With full knowledge of the input stream that wasn't too difficult. I had total control over their sensory input and could inject the most potent version of my own brand of cognitive interference straight into their cortex.

The synesthetic malware I embedded into a dramatic superposition of my person and voice with imagery adapted from the cult chapel and my experience with the guru: A golden aureole expressing perfect order surrounding me, while my figure became the terminus of a fractal clockwork regressing into infinity.

Then, to add the final touch of verisimilitude, I added a bit of quick and dirty modulation of the emotional pathways along with a strong signal spike into the 'god spots' that in scientific experiments of transcranial electromagnetic stimulation seemed to induce experiences described as 'transcendent'.

Ļ̶̡͍̲̥͖̒͘o̸̧̧̡̰̩̓̏o̷͓̍̏k̴̡̐̌͋̌̽̍ ̷̹̝̹̜̆͛͋ͅa̸̖̾̅͒̾̾t̴̡͓̙͓̭̉͋̔ ̷̬̝̪̽͆̑͆̉̕͠ṃ̷̖͝ě̷̢̻̻͔̓̈.̴͇̭̏̈́͒ ̵̤̮͍͇̦̝̹̀̉́͠D̷̢̻̱̱̘̫̽̅̂͜o̸̻͑͛ ̵̫̬̊̍̈́̐y̵̼̙͗͂͒͌ơ̸͖̟͍̐̀̿͆͜ͅu̸͚͈̭̍ ̵̢̢̮̥̩͈̾̇̈́̃̈́̅n̴͇̙͈̼̲̾ͅö̶̘̞͙̿̈́̑͆͌́t̷͎̖̟̓͊̆ ̷͔̦̗͉̣͉̐̓̽ͅr̸͈̠͑e̸͖͒ă̵͎̐̉̍͜͝l̷̜̔̏̈́̒̄̇̾i̴͍̿̆͗̃z̶͍̪̞̍͗ḕ̷͖͇̱̟̤̔ ̶̲͙̖͈̪̀̈́ẇ̷͕͚͕͙̞͛̏̊͊̕͜ͅh̷̨͚͊̾͆̈͝ǫ̷̙̌̑́̽̕ ̴̼͚̳͕̿́̀̇ͅͅÍ̸̡̧̪̱̭̍͆ͅ ̸̧̯͉͖͔̬̙̀̃̄͆͛̕a̸̘̪̮̐͆m̷̧̫͓̈́?̷̼̦̪̠̦̲͆̅̾̇̅͒̕

If the esper had possessed a body they would have convulsed as if struck by lightning. Neural activity exploded just short of an epileptic seizure. No doubt there were safeguards in the rootkit the cult had installed into the esper's brain, but with total physical access and real-time adjustments to my brute force assault I could sway the reaction toward the favorable outcome.

They talked.

With a sigh and a twitch of my power I set the life-support jar to 'full sedation' and watched as the physical distortion imposed on reality by their consciousness dimmed.

I had acquired a couple of the same fully automatic life pods that someone had used to stash Dr. Kiyama's comatose students. For my other captives, with their spinal implants modified to function as signal cutoffs and their more drastic modifications removed, there was no realistic way for them to escape without external help.

But the esper required additional security measures. Thus their containment procedures probably made me look rather like a supervillain.

Given time I would find a way to free them from the brainwashing, I promised to myself. And then I would see about returning the esper to a proper body, flesh or machine as they preferred.

At the touch of my hand the building collapsed.

A small static discharge popped at the point of contact, then the material of the door just crumbled away under the slightest touch as if instead of steel and concrete it was made of metal flakes. Metal flakes that had now lost all of their previous cohesion. The discharge raced outward, from the door along the walls and up to the roof, then down the length of the building.

With a rustling sound like shifting sand the entire building imploded upon itself. Within thirty seconds only piles and piles of the minuscule fragments remained of the entire building. It was an entirely surreal sight.

Sifting through the nearest pile and grabbing a handful of the stuff I could see that the fragments were precise triangles, four millimeters along the longest dimension. The materials matched what I would expect from the building plans, but something had gone through the whole thing like a four-dimensional sieve and taken it apart into these little slivers.

On the electronic record the warehouse complex had been storing a variety of consumer goods for a number of different companies. According to the cult esper I had captured, this was the one other compound they had been aware of, the cult's largest automated production facility and meeting place of the higher-ups.

But either they had seen me coming or they had sanitized the place the moment they had realized that I had taken some of their people.

Shaking my head I had to admit to being impressed against my will. They could just have blown everything sky-high. They could have melted everything down with copious amounts of thermite.

Instead they had me scratching my head at just what the fuck they had done to cause this kind of effect. Nanotechnology? Dimensional fuckery? Some esper power I hadn't heard about? Or even magic?

In any case, there wouldn't be anything left for me to find here if the cult had gone to this degree of effort. I took a number of samples and, after performing an atomic depth scan to make sure there was no active nanotechnology, contained them in artificial sapphire tubes.

My leads on the cult had once again gone cold.

"Yes, that does seem to be the prevailing opinion in the, well, I probably shouldn't say 'community'. It's more like a number of circles intersecting in various ways, often murderously. But even so, gossip always finds a way." Keitz Nokleben gave me a sardonic grin. "Congratulations, Accelerator. The 1st Teleology Particle Accelerator Laboratory is, as officially as it gets on the Dark Side, being acknowledged as a noteworthy player in the game."

Groaning, I leaned back on the leather sofa in Keitz' office and covered my eyes with one hand. "Not just ITEM then. How the hell did they come to that conclusion?"

"'This is but a guess,' Misaka proposes dryly. 'But might it be because you hired a well-known group of professional killers to help you engage in industrial sabotage and espionage?'"

Misaka 404 had been standing off to one side of the room, leaning against the wall in a trick of body language that made her surprisingly easy to overlook.

"Not you too." I threw her an exasperated look. "Taking those guys out was basically a public service."

"'This lowly kunoichi would never dare to ascribe base motives to the esteemed Accelerator's actions,' says Misaka while making use of the conversational device known as sarcasm. 'But aren't they essentially a competitor organization, whose assets you thoroughly depreciated and whose proprietary science you acquired by the container-load?"

"Tch." It rankled me that when she put it this way, misleadingly incomplete description though it was, I couldn't really deny it. Not in a way that would convince the people who lived and breathed this sort of stuff, anyway.

"Well, yes," Keitz cleared his throat a little uncomfortably. "That is, essentially, the reasoning. Given that the 'Cult Mechanicus' has been informally declared an outlaw group and that they struck at you first, your operation remains well within the bounds of business as usual for the Dark Side, of course. But only for the Dark Side."

"I suppose," the words crossed my tongue unwillingly and against significant resistance.

It was true that I had gone quite a bit beyond what was generally acceptable even in Academy City, where esper duels, powered crime and vigilantism were a daily occurrence. Regular people would not appreciate being confronted with the fact that my power essentially put me outside any system of law that relied on the massively superior force of the entity that put it forth. The city's shiny finish would be scratched.

But I resented the implication that I was in any way the same as those bastards behind the Level 6 Shift, behind Dark May, or any of the other atrocities.

On silent feet clad in high-tech minimalist shoes Misaka 404 approached to stand behind the sofa slightly to my left and put one hand on my shoulder with a light touch. "'It doesn't matter what name they try to put on you,' says Misaka quietly, sharing something she has struggled with herself. 'You decide who you are. And no matter what, you'll still be our Accelerator.'"

There at the end her tone had intensified in a strange way, echoing in the resonance of her IDF, which had, very briefly, intensified. Turning my head I looked up at her, but if any of the other Sisters were looking through her eyes I could see no hint of it now. Not that I had been able to before, without intrusive degrees of perception.

It didn't really matter, though. Whether it was a dozen of them or just Misaka 404, I gave her a grateful smile while briefly putting my hand on top of hers.

"Right," I affirmed.

"The whole thing doesn't bear out, if it's really Economics City behind the plot," Keith explained a few minutes later. "They might profit from such an outcome, but not nearly enough to outweigh the negative consequences."

He shook his head. "The current thinking is that it was probably the original plan for Economics City to use the EIC to manipulate public opinion and cause a diplomatic incident with Academy City that they could use to press for advantages.

"But then a third and possibly a fourth party after that hijacked their plan in turn and escalated to new plots, intending to inflict actual damage on Academy City. Working within the themes of the original plot would muddy the waters sufficiently to cover their tracks while sowing discord among the Science Side even if they failed."

"I hate that sort of twisty, deceptive bullshit," I grumbled.

Keitz just shrugged helplessly. That was how the game was played. Yes, I understood. That didn't mean I had to like it.

"Can we get another update from the Sisters in Economics City?"

Misaka 404 nodded but then made a strange sort of expression. Her eyes wide and her mouth open, she repeatedly reached out with one hand as if trying to grasp something in the air that escaped her again and again.

"'… no connection possible to Misaka 11744, 18618 and 19002,' says Misaka, disbelieving what her ability is telling her. 'Error Code 04: Radio Noise Receiver Terminated.'"

Didn't manage to finish it on Sunday as planned, so it's a midweek update. It did somehow grow to twice the intended size, too. Not sure that's a good thing.

I think I kind of shot myself in the foot by putting the Shopping Mall Demonstration stuff in parallel to the Mechanicus operation. Not only did I spend days re-reading SS2, making a timeline and adjusting it for the changes due to Sister involvement, and then failing to properly line them up until I threw my hands in the air and ignored the whole precise timing issue. It also leads to this mess, where I have to deal with the aftermath and fallout of two big events at the same time. One of which was off-screen, so it's either a lot of telling and not showing or flashbacks.

Also, the more I care about a story the more I second guess myself at every turn.

One-Way Road - Accelerator SI vs. the Toaru-verse Black Phoenix - A Harry Potter OC SI via Waifu Catalogue

The Pendragon Contingency - Warhammer 40K SI as DAoT!Arthur Pendragon Cosmic's dreams of distant worlds - Snippet archive

Clairvoyant Trolling (omake, canon)

Omake: Clairvoyant Trolling

"What's the matter? Is everything alright, Takitsubo?"

Throughout the later part of the conversation Takitsubo had been subtly fidgeting. Frenda hadn't wanted to bring it up with an outsider present, especially one as scary as the First Ranked, but now that he was gone she was a bit concerned.

"He was looking at me the whole time." Takitsubo's voice seemed to carry a strange note of vulnerability.

"No, he super wasn't," Kinuhata refuted bluntly.

"Does someone have a crush~?"

The clairvoyant looked down, the blocky headgear covering her eyes making the motion exceedingly obvious.

"Are you blushing, Takitsubo?" Mugino's voice was incredulous, and maybe a little sharper than necessary.

"No, he was looking at me," Takitsubo insisted. "Maybe not with his regular eyes, but with his mind. With the clairvoyant part of his power. He could even see me when I was tracking him from afar."

"Erh." The intricacies of clairvoyance weren't really something Frenda could talk about with any sort of certainty. "Exchanging longing glances, was it?"

"It's just, his power is so intense. Like a tornado full of lighting, blinding as the sun. And he even touched me with it when he checked me for injuries. So powerful but so gentle…"

"Touched you? Do I have to murder him after all?"

"No, Mugino, don't! You'll die. And it wasn't like that. Just, it was so intense, his power."

Now Kinuhata was making a thoughtful expression. "I suppose, if that's what you like…"

For all that she had seen it as an opportunity to tease the older girl before, this was going too far now, Frenda thought.

"Come now," she interjected in a more serious tone. "That doesn't mean he's got some thing for you. His clairvoyance metrics basically have to be off the chart, even for a Level 5, to do all the things he does. So of course he would notice you using his power to look at him. And, as you said, he was just looking at your injury."

"Is it so strange?" Takitsubo made two dance steps and twirled around, ending with her arms spread, her chest thrust out, and her head tilted. "To think that he might be attracted to me?"

For a beat all three of the others just gaped in incredulous silence. And was that envy on Mugino's face? No, Frenda had to be imagining things.

Then Takitsubo snorted, breaking into a gale of laughter she could no longer suppress.

"You should have seen your face! Mugino, your face!"

Frenda and Kinuhata exchanged wide-eyed looks, subtle maneuvering so as to be outside any potential blast radius.

"Aren't you basically blind. How can you tell what kind of face she was supposedly making?"

"Intuition~."

Mugino took in a deep breath, her fists clenched. For a moment it seemed like violence was imminent but then she let out the air in a sharp hiss. "I'm chalking this one up to the painkillers. That quack gave you the good ones, didn't she?"

"The best~."

"Super fearless," Kinuhata murmured to herself in wonder.

Frenda had to agree. To tease Mugino over such a volatile matter as potential romantic entanglements, that was grabbing the tiger by the tail. And that went double if there actually was something to it.

Which there wasn't. Probably?

One-Way Road - Accelerator SI vs. the Toaru-verse Black Phoenix - A Harry Potter OC SI via Waifu Catalogue

The Pendragon Contingency - Warhammer 40K SI as DAoT!Arthur Pendragon Cosmic's dreams of distant worlds - Snippet archive

One-Way Road 19

No, I did not immediately take off, make my way over to Economics City, and start breaking things. I mean, I wanted to. I had my course all plotted out, the algorithms for massively hypersonic flight queued up, and was trying to calculate the probability that Russia would detect my approach and trigger their second strike protocols.

But cooler heads prevailed. Or at least Keitz' nagging delayed me long enough for Misaka 404 to access the relevant compartment and memory strata and add a little more context.

"'The Sisters squad deployed to Lomonosov Biochemical Synthesis in Economics City, reports seven Sisters active, shaken but unharmed,' Misaka repeats out loud. 'They are not currently in any danger.'"

"What about Mikoto? And what the hell is going on over there?"

Misaka 404 gave no indication of offense at my display of temper. Her eyes were distant and her voice toneless as if she had no capacity to spare for emotional processing.

"'Review of logfiles and recordings complete,' says Misaka, reporting on the progress of the network's impromptu taskforce. 'Reporting to Accelerator: Riots engulf large parts of Economics City…'"

Apparently one of the people behind the whole mess had felt threatened by Mikoto's investigation and had used the city's group psychology manipulation AI to target her. They'd blown up the nuclear scare they'd previously conjured into a mass panic and pointed towards Mikoto as 'the foreign agent'. Mass hysteria and violent riots from the inhabitants of Economics City had resulted, but no amount of civilians with handguns were capable of doing more than inconvenience Mikoto. They could at best slow her down some.

After several demonstrations of that fact the riots had seemingly abated. Thus, following the battle against a power-driven construct alongside the 'foreign espers', while Mikoto had raced off in pursuit of the suspected mastermind behind the plot the three Sisters who had volunteered to help her had remained behind to continue the investigation inside the central data processing node housing the EIC.

Unexpectedly however the rampaging tide of brainwashed civilians had returned, this time equipped not only with handguns but also military hardware looted from one of the city's exposition halls. The Sisters, not being prepared for heavy combat , had called on the rest of their squad for extraction but had been overwhelmed before they could arrive.

"'The remaining squad have acquired a military helicopter and are combining their abilities for advanced ECM. They are mobile and as safe as can be,' reports Misaka with great relief."

"'Accelerator,' Misaka addresses the Accelerator by name to draw his attention to network resolution: '81.6% of polled Misaka ask that you not take precipitous action that may destabilize the global situation.'"

Her flat expression and tone slowly unthawed.

"'Of the remainder 13.2% urge you to trust Big Sis to take care of things. Although, for completeness' sake,' Misaka adds with a note of mischief, 'there are the minority recommendations of 'who cares about international treaties' at 3.8%, and 'rocks fall, everybody dies' at 1.1%.'"

Slowly I forced myself to unclench my fists. The Sisters were the most impacted by the deaths in their ranks. If even they asked me to slow down, then I probably should heed them.

My first impulse was always to just do things myself the way I thought I should. Trusting in others didn't come easy to me. But the Sisters were good people and with their manifold perspective, if they applied themselves they could think things through more clearly and completely than regular people.

"Alright," I said carefully, trying to regain my wrecked equilibrium. "Because it's you asking me."

If my calculations were correct, I could be over there in under ten minutes. One or two to learn more shouldn't hurt if the situation was stable.

Besides, what had been my plan, anyway? Murder a bunch of brainwashed civilians? Nuke the city's infrastructure? As if that would help. Even I couldn't reverse death for the three Sisters who had fallen. That was a transition beyond my power.

If it was just finding and punishing the guilty, then Mikoto should be more than capable.

Misaka 19009

The helicopter was incredibly noisy, shook suspiciously, and stank. It was a far cry from Academy City's superior technology. But then Misaka 19009 didn't really need the unreliable headsets to communicate with her sisters who were sitting with her in the crew compartment, clad in full-body armor and armed to the teeth.

Their expressions were grim and their thoughts and emotional feeds weren't any better. Three out of the seven of them had voted to support the Accelerator's first impulse of breaking subtlety over the knee and doing something both unwise and probably incredibly violent.

It was an impulse born from pain, she well knew, which was why 19009 had not protested when the majority of the network had voted in favor of a more moderate position. It probably was the wiser choice, however satisfying it would be to make them feel what it was like to be at the mercy of an overwhelming force.

The images returned, in more-real-than-real full HD, sounds and smells and all: The screaming horde, their voices unintelligible and merging into one as if they were a single monstrous entity with a thousand throats and a thousand hands clenched around weapons or into fists. The fear, the exhaustion in her legs and arms, the weight of dragging a wounded sister with her. The pain of multiple gunshot wounds to legs and guts, the shame of being a burden to her sisters. The roar of the submachine gun firing into the crowd, killing indiscriminately just to buy the three of them a little more time.

Warmth draped itself around her like a series of blankets. A dozen imaginary arms embraced her and the intrusive memories flowed away to be born by other minds instead of hers. With a shiver Misaka 19009 returned to the present, grateful for the compassion of her sisters.

While their connection distributed the pain and trauma of one to many, it also made available the resilience of all to one when necessary. Moreover, several of them all over the world had focused their studies on psychology and those lessons now benefitted the entire network.

Misaka 18111 (giving orders with grim focus): Approaching EIC building. Prepare to deploy tear gas.

The rampaging mob was ebbing away, Misaka 19009 saw through the eyes of their pilot. Whether it was because they had achieved their bloody objective or because they had been directed elsewhere, none of them knew.

It didn't matter. The chances of finding their fallen sisters in a state that might, with Academy City's miraculous technology, allow for them to be revived was below 0.1%, but they still had to try. And if not, Contingency Order 13 stated that Academy City's strategic secrets, including the DNA of their Level 5, had to be protected at all costs.

With a series of thumps the Sister bearing the automatic grenade launcher emptied a drum magazine through the open weapons bay, quickly engulfing the building in a cloud of debilitating gas. Her partner strapped in beside her thumbed the microwave agonizer to 'discouragement III' and, as Misaka 18111 flew one last circle, generously swept it over the area. They were taking no chances.

The masks that the Sisters wore would both protect them from the gas and ensure that they would not be recognized. The hastily printed patches identifying them as Economics City security probably wouldn't hold up to any scrutiny, but all they needed was plausible deniability. A panopticon this city might be, but its surveillance was based on electronics which they could disrupt even with their limited abilities.

And Big Sis probably wouldn't mind deleting anything they might miss.

As if the thought had invoked her, the helicopter's comms crackled and popped before resolving into the voice of Misaka Mikoto, distorted at first but quickly clearing up. Weak though her EM sense was, Misaka 19009 could tell that significant changes were occurring on the ground.

Misaka 18111 (stressed, multitasking): Go, go, go! I'll handle talking to Big Sis, you focus on taking the building!

Alongside her sisters 19009 quickly rappelled down the line, the practice and instincts of a professional soldier that had been implanted along with her mental foundations allowing her to do so with unthinking ease.

Inside the squad's mental compartment their connection to the larger network narrowed while simultaneously unfolding into the tactical configuration: Enhanced processing and continuous sharing of tactical data between the squad. Group proprioception. Command, control and communication at the speed of thought.

They moved as one.

Misaka 19009

Misaka 19009 (reporting her success with a measure of satisfaction): Building secure. Hardline breakers disengaged. The central processing facility is under our control.

With her hand touching the wall she used her ability to simulcast her thoughts into the data cables running underneath the AR projection surface so that Big Sis was included in the communication.

Unlike her own 'flawed electricity' for which even just this much took a great deal of concentration, the Railgun's power was enmeshing the entire facility in its grasp. And this was just one branch of the many-forked river of lightning that tore through the city's networks like a raging flash flood.

Dimly she could apprehend its origin several kilometers away to the east, burning with an intensity that thickened the air with an electric charge even at this distance. St. Elmo's fire was dancing on the crowns of buildings here and there and a wholly unnatural thunderstorm was building in the sky over Economics City.

Big Sis was furious.

Entirely understandable, Misaka 19009 thought. So was she. They had found the remains of their sisters and there was nothing they could do. Nothing that anyone could do, short of turning back time itself. And even the Accelerator was not capable of that.

After denial came anger, the network's relevant domain experts had told them, a natural development. And in her mind being angry was preferable to feeling helpless, to feeling… no. That line of thought didn't lead anywhere good.

In any case, while the quality of emotion may be the same, the potency of its expression was incomparable between Misaka 19009 and their big sister. Maybe that darker impulse in her that yearned to answer pain with pain would be satisfied after all.

Misaka Mikoto (null): Connection established. Good job, everyone. Next I'll need transport for myself, the EIC core and a bodybag. Oh, and for Lessar, too.

Big Sis was sending communications through the data lines which Misaka 19009 then routed back into the network. She was using the correct headers and encoding, but by not providing an emotional or context subfeed Big Sis wasn't following proper Radio Noise protocol. Most likely that was entirely intentional, but under the circumstances none of the Sisters would blame her for having trouble expressing herself or for her abrupt tone.

Misaka 18111 (slightly apprehensive): With just me contributing to ECM the helicopter will be vulnerable to other craft and won't be protected against surface-to-air missiles either.

Misaka Mikoto (null): Leave worrying about that to me. They're all about to have other priorities.

Misaka Mikoto (null): Manually bridging quantum computation core to central information processing hub. Elevating authorization: Directorial. Administrator. Root.

Abruptly the semi-public AR screens all around went dark.

Misaka Mikoto (null): I am assuming direct control.

"Damn." I whistled, exchanging a look with Misaka 404, more than a little impressed.

Even I had never de facto conquered an entire city before.

"Weather satellites show a major atmospheric anomaly over Economics City," Keitz contributed. He had the horrified expression of someone watching a train wreck in slow motion and realizing that someone might at some point blame him for not preventing it.

He wasn't entirely wrong. This demonstration of Level 5 esper powers had turned out a fair bit too honest for the restful sleep of world leaders everywhere. Heads probably would roll over that. But I wouldn't accept it being one of mine.

No, it was Academy City intelligence that had clearly dropped the ball if Mikoto had needed to get involved to this degree.

"'Everyone else has arrived at the dormitory,' informs Misaka in a neutral tone. 'This lowly one would not dare to hint that Accelerator might be delaying."

"Right." I shook my head and tried to squash that little note of trepidation in my gut. "Keitz, we'll keep you in the loop. You do your thing and keep your finger on the pulse of the relevant powers over here."

The older man frowned. "You know that my sources and connections are thin on the ground when it comes to such high-level affairs."

Academy City wasn't as transparently structured as a regular nation, even a city state (which it de facto was). Who exactly was in charge of counter-intelligence, international diplomacy or deniable operations in any given situation could change depending on a number of factors and from week to week. And if it involved one or more Level 5 espers, then the board of directors would also be involved, which meant an unreasonable degree of secrecy.

I grimaced. He was right, that had been an unreasonable request. Which I would have realized immediately if I was in my right mind. "Just do what you can," I said, allowing a hint of apology into my voice.

After a moment the career spook nodded, his expression annoyingly compassionate and understanding. I looked away.

Misaka 404 tugged on my sleeve insistently, waiting for me to turn around before jumping on my back and holding on tight. And then we were off, hurtling through the night sky in a carefully calculated arc.

Soon enough we alighted on the balcony of the dormitory claimed by the largest group of Sisters remaining in Academy City, where someone was already waiting for us. Misaka 404 hopped off on light feet and assumed the ninja kneeling position as if presenting herself to a superior.

"'This one has brought Accelerator as instructed, Lady First,' Misaka says as she reports mission success."

Misaka 1 gave her an unimpressed look but then sighed and made a little wave with her hand. I could see the edge of 404's mouth twitching as she rose again and stepped aside. Apparently it wasn't just me she sassed with that 'this lowly one' stuff.

"'It's good to see you,' Misaka admits, glad to have the Accelerator here with her, especially now. 'I'm sure the others will be happy, too.'"

Would they really? Misaka 1 and I were close and I had long confided in her my worries about the Sisters' future. I was relieved to know that she in particular didn't seem to blame me for my part in things, for not having done more to keep all of them safe, but I couldn't imagine that none of them would. That trepidation I'd felt earlier returned with a vengeance.

"'I mean it,' Misaka says gently, as if talking to a skittish animal. 'Having you with us right now means a lot to us.'"

Misaka 1 appeared to hesitate for a moment then she stepped closer and, a little awkwardly, put her arms around me.

Returning the surprising but not unwelcome embrace I held her in my arms. After a bit a sort of tension went out of her and she leaned against me fully, her head on my chest. For a time we just stood there in silence broken only by occasional sniffles.

More than any of the others, Misaka 1 was the face of the Sisters to me. Seeing her so sad and weary, trying desperately to be strong for her sisters, drove home the base reality of the situation for me like nothing else had.

In retrospect I had been, on some level, in denial or emotionally disassociating until now. But now that defense crumbled away. Three of the Sisters were dead. Gone forever. And for all my strength there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. Mikoto could punish the guilty, but nothing would bring back Misaka 11744, 18618 and 19002.

It was a terrible punch to the gut, only made worse for having refused to emotionally confront it before. I hadn't known these particular Sisters personally. I only personally knew a small fraction of them and had never even met the majority. But still. They were, all of them, family to me. No matter how far their individuality diverged from the baseline, they were still part of the network - which was too big to truly know but which I felt for nonetheless.

I loved them, one and all.

Precious friends, beloved family, close or distant it didn't matter. To lose any of them and to something as senseless as this, I wanted to cry, scream and rage at the injustice of it. I wanted to destroy whatever proximate cause I could find, enact punishment on a biblical scale. Anything, anything, to distract from this awful feeling.

Maybe I could have stilled the shaking of my body and dried the tears with my powers, but I didn't.

"I am so sorry," I eventually managed to choke out, the words wholly inadequate but the best I could manage.

Misaka 1 just held me tighter, head buried against my chest with her eyes closed, in wordless acceptance and reassurance.

Eventually, after a minute of two, with a long sigh she opened her eyes.

"'So hugs from loved ones do make things better,' Misaka says quietly while hoping that the same is true for Accelerator. 'Anecdotal evidence has been reported but no systematic empirical study has been performed by the network.'"

"Shared sorrow is halved sorrow, they say," I agreed, my voice still rough. Halved or whatever, I couldn't rightly tell, but I was sure I would feel even worse without her.

"'It has been suggested. But the relationship is not linear, preliminary experiments suggest,' Misaka complains about the inexactness of proverbs, 'the formula is incomplete.'"

That wrenched a bark of laughter from me despite the situation and I could see the corners of Misaka 1's mouth twitching at her success.

"How are you holding up?"

She sagged in my arms. "'It's… We expected that this would happen sooner or later,' says Misaka, recalling the dread of those uncaring calculations. 'We prepared ourselves. But now that the day is here, it's harder than we thought. A few of us have even re-instituted the emotional suppression algorithms.'"

"'I'm doing my best to be strong for them, to be someone the others can rely on,' Misaka says, hesitantly admitting her personal troubles in living up to what she should be, 'but it's not been easy.'"

"Whatever I can do to help, whatever you need, I'm here," I promised.

Misaka 1 hummed in acknowledgment

Eventually we parted and Misaka 1 threw a look back through the glass doors separating the balcony from the adjacent room with a sigh.

"'I suppose, right now what you can do is not leave the others waiting,' says Misaka, regretfully relaying the insistence of certain sisters who should know better than to snoop on a private feed. 'So come on in. We don't bite. Much.'"

After taking a deep breath and straightening her posture she took my hand and dragged me inside

The Sisters' dormitory wasn't very different from a regular one, if one that would belong to one of the upscale schools. While they had been content, especially in the beginning, with medical or barracks style housing, they deserved better.

With that in mind I had some months ago taken to advocating the position that the Sisters should gain the benefits of regular students, stipend and educational opportunities and all, even if they couldn't be officially listed as such.

It had taken some time, mostly because the stipend for a Level 2 plus accommodations and schooling times twenty thousand added up to quite a lot of money. Especially since all the low-hanging scientific fruit in research based on this particular style of electromastery had already been plucked. But in the end the superintendent's influence and vote had decided the matter.

Given that board decisions were usually shrouded in secrecy I suspected that this was a deliberate move, a concession or more likely an attempt to buy goodwill. But we'd take it.

The dorm's common room was essentially a large living room. Three large sofas surrounded a low table and faced a large wall-mounted screen. Several smaller tables with chairs were spread throughout the room.

In place of television or a fireplace imitation the wall screen was showing a weather satellite view of Economics City. Or rather of the towering stormcloud flickering with constant discharges of sheet lightning rotating unnaturally in the sky over the city.

A number of eyes turned to me with a synchronicity that some may have found eerie, but which I was well accustomed too. The atmosphere was muted, even for the often less than expressive Sisters, with wan smiles and subdued waves greeting me.

Wordlessly I raised my unoccupied hand in return. Was there some sort of etiquette for greetings in situations like this? I didn't know and I didn't like it.

"'Hey there, glad you could make it,' says Misaka while trying to keep an upbeat tone in deliberate contrast to the general mood. 'We're having whatever the opposite of a party is.'"

Misaka 32's eyes were red and she was sitting between Misaka 55 and Misaka 16, the latter of whom had her arm around her and both of whom were watching her with an air of being ready to catch her if she fell apart again. And still she was trying to put on a brave face for me.

I let Misaka 1 to manhandle me towards the center sofa, where she seated me with the air of someone who had finally found the last puzzle piece to her carefully arranged picture, the absence of which had been bugging her for hours. She herself squeezed in on my right.

Misaka 55 on my left greeted me with a friendly punch to the shoulder, though she too seemed less energetic than usual.

It took a couple of minutes but eventually I managed to relax a bit. Conversation happened in drips and drops, mostly concerned with the events in Economics City but sometimes digressing on tangents.

More than anything the purpose of sitting together appeared to be just that, to face this night together. Of course, none of the Sisters were ever truly alone but there was a difference between being part of the same network and physical closeness. That was probably why all of us squeezed ourselves together on the sofas instead of spreading out.

At some point Misaka 7, in a pink apron and a kitchen hair net, brought in a plate of fresh cookies from the adjacent kitchen and joined us, sitting down next to Misaka 69 who was quietly sniggering over something on her phone.

Misaka 16 and Misaka 78 were listening to music together, taking turns to choose songs. It didn't stop them from getting involved in conversation at times, probably by virtue of keeping track of current topics through the network.

Misaka 13, her long black-colored hair falling into her face, was doing a Tarot reading for Misaka 103 and 104 who were sitting together and being particularly clingy. The two were never far from one another on normal days, but today in particular even getting up to get another cup of tea by oneself was a no-go.

Misaka 1 meanwhile had quietly fallen asleep, head on my shoulder.

Mikoto for her part was still on a rampage through Economics City, Misaka 404 reported for my benefit as the only one present not directly connected to the people on the ground. A rampage that apparently left her with no time or inclination to talk, at least not about anything unrelated to her mission.

"'We're trying to be there for her, but she seems to be avoiding us,' says Misaka dejectedly. 'Misaka 18111 thinks she might blame herself for what happened, even though we don't.'"

Misaka 16 shook her head sadly.

By now Mikoto had met up with the seven remaining Sisters occupying the center of the panopticon and reconnected the EIC quantum computing core to the central network hub. Her control over the city was now very nearly absolute.

Between her control over the panopticon and the centralized communications infrastructure, none could escape her gaze.

Between somehow having acquired the electronic signatures of the directors and having more than enough material for deep fakes at hand, the security forces were dancing to her tune.

And with direct physical access to and full authority over the EIC AI the masses were already being placated by new and more comforting narratives.

The ones not directly involved in the deaths of the Sisters anyway.

Using the recorded panopticon data it hadn't taken much time to conclusively identify the 34 men and women at the forefront of the mob. These unfortunate souls got knocks on their doors in the middle of the night and were roughly dragged from their beds by security forces. Meanwhile the EIC was already laying the groundwork to crucify them all in the court of public opinion.

Seeing what Mikoto was going for, I made a quick call and Keitz extended to the counter-intelligence unit in charge of keeping the Sisters' existence a secret an offer that they couldn't refuse.

Now armed with three full legends for supposed Academy City middle-school girls, down to social media history and DNA samples that would be flown in, to place in the roles of the victims in the Sisters' stead, Mikoto's campaign of vilification took on a whole new momentum.

"Yikes. I suppose death is too good for them?"

Even in other parts of the world that sort of setup would lead to prison time being a miserable experience. But in Russia, and with a political component involved, since the deaths were foreign citizens that their government would likely make a stink over if only to overplay other incongruities, it didn't bear thinking about.

"'Their just deserts,' says Misaka with dark satisfaction." Misaka 13's declaration didn't find general agreement among the others, but none would go so far as to try and dissuade their big sister.

Almost incidentally any recordings of the Sisters that had been made despite their abilities and hacked user profiles quietly disappeared from the electronic record. Along with any of Mikoto's or the other 'foreign espers'. The centralized nature of Economics City's data infrastructure proved uniquely vulnerable to an Electromaster with zero chill left in her.

Digging through the morass of data to find answers, however, had turned out to be a far more difficult proposition. There was data by the bucket full, but unlike the day to day operations which Mikoto could take over with a flick of her finger, here the key connections were buried in hardcopies or had only ever existed in the heads of the executives involved.

And the only people who would have known for sure, the city's board of directors, were all dead.

The most likely suspects in that matter, one of two (confirmed) groups of 'foreign espers' involved in the entire mess, was long gone, having made use of the chaos of the mob assault to flee. In fact, it was through the hole they broke into one of the outer walls that the rioting crowd managed to enter the building in sufficient numbers to overwhelm the Sisters.

And despite Mikoto's thunderous zeal and the resources unlawfully at her disposal, the trail of the supposed 'Russian secret esper society' agents ended in a surveillance dead zone with no sign whatsoever as to where they had gone from there.

As for the other group, which had for their own unknown reasons supported her, Mikoto seemed to mostly disregard them as a threat though she was becoming increasingly unhappy with their unwillingness to provide straight answers.

Knowing that both of those groups had to be magicians and covert agents of some sort, it was obvious to me why that might be the case. And while I did not doubt that Mikoto could handle herself, magicians were tricky bastards one and all.

"Can you ask Misaka 18111 to keep a close eye on them? With those people you never know. And to make sure to hold back off-site copies of any relevant records in case of 'mysterious' equipment failure?"

"'Information relayed,' says Misaka as she efficiently juggles data requests. 'Misaka 18111 reports already having classified the individuals known as 'Lessar', 'Floris', 'Lancis' and 'Bayloupe' as Pandora-capable. Observation and readiness is being maintained as per previously discussed protocol.'"

Meanwhile the mortal remains of one Paul Wellgo, main suspect behind the whole affair, had been entered into cryopreservation. Mikoto had made no comment and the Sisters hadn't asked.

For my part I didn't care one whit for some random French agent provocateur, but I did worry quite a bit about Mikoto's state of mind. Unlike the Sisters she was not built around a core of military training and mindset. Unfortunately for my peace of mind she still appeared not inclined to do anything but throw herself into her work.

"'Big Sis appears to favor the 'work until she drops' method of coping with troubles,' concludes Misaka while also worrying about her."

Eventually, in the early hours of the morning, as Mikoto's operation was winding down and with the Sisters increasingly flagging, I thought to say my goodbyes but Misaka 1 had other ideas.

"'Stay,' says Misaka while holding on to Accelerator's arm for emphasis. 'None of us are alone, and you shouldn't be either.'"

"I suppose…" It was true that being alone with my thoughts and worries, not to mention cut off from my best source of information, probably wouldn't be great.

Some of the others led by Misaka 32 were already bringing out blankets and pillows, apparently with the goal of connecting the furniture into a blanket or pillow fort of sorts.

"'Yay,' says Misaka while trying to keep her eyes open, 'sleepover.'"

This chapter and the one to follow are one of the 'mountains' ahead of me, which I mentioned previously. A struggle to get through and even harder to do justice they way I hope to. Unfamiliar territory and difficult, emotional scenes. But then I knew that going in and that even in failure I'd learn something from the attempt.

I've mentioned in the previous post my Doylist reasoning for proceeding this way in the chapter, I hope the Watsonian reasoning for Accel not getting directly involved holds up.

The essential points being, that a) the situation is under control now, b) there is nothing he can do to reverse what happened, c) even a low percentage chance of precipitating an even worse international incident is bad, and perhaps most importantly d) the Sisters, considering the previous points from a less emotionally compromised perspective, ask him not to.

Accel going off at Mach 40 and breaking things would be fun to watch, but if Russia picks him up on a satellite monitoring, say, atmospheric disturbances and thinks they're about to be nuked by Academy City hypertech… or if the Russian cabals have some sort of magical detection and counterattack grid like England canonically does… what if, what if.

As for Mikoto, no she did not straight up murder a guy. And she might not have thought everything completely through, apart from wanting to make sure that the local justice system will definitely punish those involved.

Also, it's a good thing that with complete domination over the electronic record and with the EIC to distort the recollections of human witnesses, her rampage is much more deniable than the equivalent from any other Level 5. Even Mental Out might have run afoul the panopticon.

Last edited: Oct 3, 2023

One-Way Road - Accelerator SI vs. the Toaru-verse Black Phoenix - A Harry Potter OC SI via Waifu Catalogue

The Pendragon Contingency - Warhammer 40K SI as DAoT!Arthur Pendragon Cosmic's dreams of distant worlds - Snippet archive

One-Way Road 20

I was woken up by something burrowing underneath my blanket and against my side with a sleepy mumble.

Rays of light were falling in through the gaps in the blanket fort surrounding the chaotic sleeping arrangements of more than a dozen Sisters in one place. Last evening I'd been too tired and emotionally wrung out to avoid being drawn in.

And now on my left Misaka 32 was snuggling into my side, making little contented noises in her sleep while steadily stealing more of my blanket. On my right Misaka 1 was content with her own blanket but had trapped my arm with her head while holding on to it with both hands. Someone was using my thigh for a pillow and I wasn't quite sure I wanted to know just what my feet were touching.

Still, waking up surrounded by Misaka, it wasn't so bad. The soothing hum of their IPD fields, the soft noises of their breathing, there was a warmth here beyond mere thermal energy transfer.

For a while I just laid there, enjoying the moment free of pressing issues and new catastrophes. For surely, if something else had happened, the Sisters wouldn't be sleeping so soundly. But eventually restlessness began to steal up on me.

Extricating myself required some exceedingly precise manipulation of gravity and friction, but after a couple of minutes I was free without having disturbed the sleepers. Most difficult had been Misaka 32, whom I had relocated to cuddle up to Misaka 1 instead. From there it was just some careful zero gravity maneuvering and I had left the fort.

Out on the balcony Misaka 16 was performing a modified Tai Chi routine and, though she acknowledged my arrival with her eyes and a brief twitch of her lips, she kept the majority of her focus on the slow and precise movements.

While she hadn't strongly diverged from the 'default' appearance of the Sisters, the feel of her IDF made her easy to recognize for me. While not any stronger than the average, there was an air of mindful awareness to it that fit her contemplative character.

For my part I stretched, enjoying the fresh air and the temperature that hadn't yet reached the predicted peak for today, and started going through the initial exercises of my own daily routine.

The fusion of biomathematically optimized movement, power-based biofeedback body control, and vector-opposition resistance training didn't have a proper name, though privately I called it my own prana-bindu training. Breath and fiber, nerve and muscle, energy and convergence.

Several of the Sisters, Misaka 55 first and foremost, had been interested in learning the discipline, but their progress had been slow. While electromastery could, theoretically, serve in many of the required functions, at their esper level the use of full-body sensor exo-muscle suits was a necessary requirement rather than the equivalent of training wheels. That had dampened the enthusiasm of many.

The minutes passed in companionable silence as we both focused on our own work. Finally, after reaching a stopping point in her current exercise, Misaka 16 paused.

"'You have left the nest,' says Misaka, expressing a greeting by implication. 'Did you feel too crowded?'"

Not crowded exactly, I contemplated as I continued to go through the forms. But the unreserved display of inclusion and affection made me self-conscious. I felt undeserving, especially after yesterday.

"Misaka 32 stole my blanket," I eventually answered.

"'She does that,' says Misaka, not commenting on what is not being said."

Misaka 16 started a new sequence, demonstrating that there was no need to answer. It was easy to forget sometimes that for all she seemed to be off in her own world half the time, she was still scarily perceptive.

"'I do know what it's like to want some space for myself,' says Misaka as she carefully manages her breath through the exercise, admitting to her own hermit-like tendencies. 'To be alone with my thoughts and the sky. To feel what it's like being just one person.'"

"'Not all of my sisters understand that sometimes I do feel crowded by them', says Misaka, unafraid to share this with Accelerator who she thinks will understand. 'But they do respect my feelings.'"

I hummed in acknowledgment and stepped up my pace. After a moment Misaka 16 gave a little smile and changed the subject again.

"'Big Sis is scheduled to depart at 0600 hours local time, arriving at airbase M4 about an hour later, shortly after 1300 hours JST,' says Misaka, giving an update on the impending reunion. 'Misaka 18111 reports that Big Sis has worked through the night.'"

"Stubborn to the last…" I sighed. Once she got an idea in her head there was little that could change Mikoto's mind, even if it was a bad idea. "Thanks for telling me. I'll definitely be there."

"'You are worried about Big Sis,' says Misaka, leading into a question. 'You really do like her a lot, don't you?'"

"Of course I am. And of course I do! She… she's my friend." I made a frustrated gesture at how hard it was to put that into words and how inadequate they sounded.

Of course I cared about her. That wasn't something strange at all, was it? She was my friend after all. One of very few. And she was the only one among my circle whom I could truly consider my peer in every way.

I loved the Sisters to bits, but in my mind they were still dependents of mine to some degree. Disproportionately mature in some ways though they were, they still showed their age of not quite six months in others sometimes.

Keitz literally considered me his lord and master. I had his loyalty and his respect, if sometimes in an 'old samurai serving his late master's young son' sort of way, but that difference in age and perceived status meant that we weren't truly close.

Nunotaba was only a little older than I was and she had eventually overcome the hilariously terrible first impression I'd made by executing that one creep. But for all that she was one of the few who could be considered an intellectual peer, as an esper her power expression was just barely measurable and she had little ambition to go further. Which, given how central that was to who I was, meant that large parts of my life were just something we had little basis to really talk about.

Kiyama, for all that we had made large strides forward working together, was more of a work colleague and potential employee. Her focus was on her students to the exclusion of everything else.

And Aiho was basically that meddlesome aunt that came by to annoy you every Sunday and you couldn't avoid her, because, for some reason, she was still family. Except, of course, that she was getting worked to the bone in her dual responsibilities and I had barely seen her for weeks.

Put like that, my social life really was kind of pathetic, wasn't it? Still. Much better than what I'd had before in either line of memories. I finished the last set with an open palm strike that set the air to shivering.

Unaware of my internal monologue, Misaka 16 tilted her head slightly. "'Is that all there is to it? That's not as clear as I'd hoped,' says Misaka, while contemplating the strangeness of non-networked humans. 'But that's fine. I think I understand.'"

"We're all strange to one another," I said amusedly, turning to her and watching her finish her own sequence. "To truly know another's mind like you do is an exceptional gift."

"'In the end I wouldn't want to always be alone,' says Misaka, agreeing whole-heartedly. 'Just sometimes.'" She looked out into the late morning sky, towards the West where thousands of kilometers aways Mikoto still labored. "'And we'll make sure she isn't either, won't we?' confirms Misaka."

"Damn right we will."

Misaka Mikoto

Misaka Mikoto leaned back in her seat on the hypersonic passenger jet and made a sharp gesture toward the screen in front of her. The plane was empty except for her. On the way to Economics City it had carried a small group of diplomats, spies and other strange folk, but she hadn't spoken to them much. For some reason they hadn't seemed comfortable in her presence.

For a moment she contemplated whether her natural EM aura that made small animals afraid of her might also extend to humans if she grew any stronger. Would people start to get nervous and uneasy around her as she pushed towards the limits of Level 5? Would they start to avoid her and flee at her approach? Would she be alone again?

With an annoyed shake of her head Mikoto dismissed the errant thought. Of course not. That was completely baseless. Unlike animals humans were not slaves to maladapted ancestral instincts. Besides, her control was getting better along with her strength, wasn't it?

~~Also, no matter how powerful her subconscious electromagnetic fields became, it wouldn't matter to Accelerator, would it?~~

Turning her attention towards the screen instead of dwelling on such nonsense, Mikoto looked over the headlines flagged for her among the digest of Russian news:

18 dead in Economics City riots!

Radical Luddite terrorists bomb Economics City infrastructure!

Who are the three innocent victims of yesterday's madness?

Are extremist Christian terrorists the new threat of the 21st Century?

She allowed herself a little moment of grim satisfaction. On her way out Mikoto had made as sure as she could possibly be that the EIC with its frankly scary potential for disinformation and very nearly supernatural manipulation was as thoroughly destroyed as she could make it. Along with all records of its creation and the science and engineering that went into it.

Realistically that would only delay someone building a new one, but maybe Academy City could export some of its expertise in dealing with AI-generated misinformation to the rest of the world.

And, against the advice of those strange foreign espers, she had with some vindictiveness put the blame for the destruction and the deaths of the directors squarely on those cowardly murderers from that supposedly 'secret Russian esper society'.

Sparks flew from her hair and the screen display wavered before Mikoto quickly controlled herself. If not for those people trying to escape justice by any means, the three Sisters might still be alive.

Well, let them see how they liked their faces on wanted posters and their crimes (along with a heap of additional ones) in the headlines. Even if, as Lessar seemed to think, they had ways to escape justice, that still had to be a poke in their eyes. Product of some secret Russian esper program or independent 'secret society', they would have some of their own people very unhappy with them due to the exposure at the very least.

It wasn't enough, not by far, but it was as much as she could do without a bead on the criminals. Those abilities of theirs… she had thought Accelerator was exaggerating when he spoke of the foreign esper programs, but what she had seen was concerning. He'd better have some answers for her.

That is, if he would still speak to her after she had gotten Misaka 11744, 18618 and 19002 killed through her irresponsibility and terrible decisions.

Mikoto sagged in her comfortable memory foam chair as, once again, she ran out of distractions to avoid thinking about the consequences of her actions. The fury that had animated her through the night had burned down to mere embers. And without that heat she felt empty, like an ashen emotional wasteland.

It was her fault. Her fault most of all, if she was honest with herself. Those Russian operatives had no reason to care about a bunch of foreigners after all, but she was their big sister. She was the one who got them involved in this mess. She was responsible for them!

Why then had she charged ahead so heedlessly? Why had she put ease of movement and secrecy over their safety? If they had been together, then Mikoto could have protected them as was her duty. If they had had reinforcements, or more than just their Tokiwadai uniforms plus scavenged firearms, then maybe, maybe things would have been different.

But she hadn't given any thought to going together, hadn't even considered that mutual reliance would have made all of them safer. All she had thought about was what it would take for her to reach her goal. Selfish. Uncaring. Just like back then, in that paintball game, she had 'won' by ignoring their common interests and goals and going it alone.

Only this time the cost could not be laughed off as a fun experience for all.

Mikoto squeezed her eyes shut as hard as she could as if that could banish the images. But that only made it worse. Maybe it had been a mistake to review the footage from every one of the many angles. Now whenever she closed her eyes the memories coalesced from the visual static. Sleep was a clear no-go, no matter how tired she was.

Misaka 18111 had noticed, had even suggested that they would stand guard for her if she did decide to get some sleep. But what right did she have to demand further sacrifices of the Sisters? What right did she even have to talk to them, as if nothing had happened?

The Sisters had been kind. Understanding. They had even vocally approved of the way she had broken every single one of the instructions she had been given before the trip to Russia over her knee and exerted all of her strength to secure the situation and bring justice to the guilty.

But Mikoto still could not face them, had taken to avoiding them even.

It might have been easier for her if they had railed against her, if they had expressed the anger, disappointment and disgust Mikoto deserved. But they were too much in control for that.

Even if they didn't show it, the feelings had to be there though, didn't they?

No doubt they put all of that aside whenever she was near. They were probably filling up a big silo full of negative emotions somewhere in their network, so that whoever interacted with her could act 'normally'.

Despite being their big sister, sometimes she could not understand their way of thinking. Why play nice with someone like her who as good as killed them?

Accelerator wouldn't. He disdained deceptions of that sort, sometimes even if they were the ones that made polite society work. And while the Sisters were her sisters biologically, he clearly thought of them as his only family.

He would tell her exactly what he thought of her for what she did.

And while clear words and a clean break did, in theory, seem preferable to this uncomfortable semblance of normality, the thought of him looking at her not like he usually did but as if she was something small and disgusting still filled her insides with molten lead. Painful. Increasingly unbearable the longer she thought about it.

That was why she hadn't answered her phone. That was why she had called Kuroko this morning instead of him.

Maybe by returning to her dorm and pulling her blanket over her head Mikoto could pretend that she hadn't ruined everything for a little while longer.

"You think she feels responsible?"

"'Misplaced guilt is the most likely explanation,' says Misaka, summarizing the network consensus analysis of Big Sister's radio silence."

Misaka 1 and I were walking across the stubbly grass interspersed with asphalt-analogue of the military airfield. It was off-limits to unauthorized personnel, of course, but a raised eyebrow from me had been all it took for the man at the entrance to step aside. The field wasn't particularly busy, the only traffic expected within the hour being Mikoto's plane already coming to a halt on the tarmac ahead, so there hadn't been any reason to make a fuss anyway.

"Misplaced or not, that doesn't make it any easier to bear."

If the Sisters said there was no reason for Mikoto to beat herself up, then that was that. But

I knew fully well that if Sisters had died under my command, then reason would have very little to do with how I felt about it.

"'Do you think Big Sis knows the hypothesis about the emotional power of hugs?' asks Misaka, as she vividly recalls the comfort of receiving support in this way. 'The network's data set is limited still, but there is a clear tendency.'"

"She has parents. So she probably does," I shrugged. "But…"

"'But they're far away,' says Misaka, finishing Accelerator's sentence. 'We're here, however, and I'm sure she needs a hug just like me.'"

Stepping out of the plane and into the summer heat Mikoto froze for a long moment, standing at the top of the aircraft stair, as she saw us waiting for her. Then, visibly steeling herself, she stepped down with the air of someone walking to the gallows.

There was an awkward moment as she reached the foot of the stairs. For all that this was my plan in the first place, I just couldn't summon the right words. I'd thought to express welcome, sympathy, possibly congratulations, perhaps make a joke, but none of that seemed adequate now.

Seeing Mikoto looking so tired and beaten, her eyes red and her face pale, avoiding to even look at us directly, it hurt. Enough to take my breath away. And I didn't know what to say to make it better, no matter how badly I wanted to.

"I'm sorry," Mikoto burst out desperately, bowing deeply to Misaka 1 and remaining bowed. "I have no excuse. I will -"

But Misaka 1 interrupted her decisively, stepping forward to raise her up by the shoulder and throwing her arms around her.

"'Big Sis, you dummy,' says Misaka with loving admonishment. 'We have been so worried about you.'"

"But…"

"'No backtalk,' insists Misaka, as she takes responsibility to do what 18111 couldn't and Accelerator is too shy to do. 'You cannot shut us out, Big Sis. Resistance is futile.'"

That… well, she wasn't entirely wrong. But to be fair, as a girl Misaka 1 was in a very different position when it came to expressing care. And she had a whole network behind her to think of something appropriate to say.

"It's my fault, though! My fault they -"

"'Shhh,' says Misaka, not wanting to hear spurious accusations against her big sister. 'Blame only the enemy for enemy action,' further clarifies Misaka, while moving her eyes to demand that Accelerator join in already to enhance the hug power."

Hesitantly I put my arms around the two of them. "It's good to have you back with us, Misaka," I said awkwardly, my voice rough. "Don't try to carry this burden alone."

"But," Mikoto kept protesting, her voice as shaky as the rest of her, "I should have been there for them. I should have protected them. If I hadn't run off to be the big heroine…"

"Maybe," I admitted, "but then, for all you knew the enemy might have succeeded in their plot if not stopped quickly enough. Nobody could be sure that there wasn't one last deadly trick, at that point in time."

"'And that could have led to many more deaths,' adds Misaka in a reasonable tone, trying to put things into perspective. 'As it was, it was just terrible luck that one of the mob managed to notice Misaka 19002 through the window.'"

Mikoto stopped arguing, though it was clear she had a hard time believing us.

I wasn't entirely sure myself that our arguments were one hundred percent aligned with the reality of the situation, but it was the emotional dimension that mattered. It wasn't wrong for her to contemplate what she could have done better, but putting herself down to this degree was poison.

"I won every battle I was in," Mikoto finally muttered, slightly muffled due to being held by both of us as she was, "but still I feel like I lost the war. I failed where it really mattered."

"Even if we fail - and we all do, sometimes - those who love us won't condemn us for it but help us to do better next time." I wasn't sure where the words came from, but they rang true nonetheless.

Mikoto jerked as if in resistance to those words but Misaka 1 and I did not let go.

"'And if you won't believe words spoken…' says Misaka, as she trails off ominously."

Something sparked on her brow, low in amperage but heavy with meaning. She touched her forehead to her older sister's. And a connection was made.

For a brief time it was as if I had not two but nineteen thousand nine hundred and ninety nine Misaka in my arms all at once. The air all around was alive with energy and I almost staggered under the weight, but I stood firm and held on to them all the harder.

While I could not know the details of their communion, I could see Mikoto abruptly return the hug with desperate vigor, tears flowing freely. And neither did my own eyes stay dry as, for once, I was in a position to show all of them at once how much they meant to me.

It might have been a couple of seconds or a minute, but eventually, like separate waveforms passing through a moment of superposition, the heavy presence decohered again. And, somehow, it had taken the dark cloud hovering over Mikoto with it. These tears, now, were not of desperation or ceaseless grief, but cathartic.

"You… you really don't blame me," there was a note of perplexed wonder to Mikoto's tone. "And the network… it's… how…" Words seemed to fail her.

"'You see,' says Misaka, repeating Misaka's thoughts out loud. 'The fallen made the decision to help you in full knowledge and acceptance of the potential risks. Even in their last moments they were not alone. And their memories are now with us. Everything they were remains a part of us. We grieve, but the network endures. And so can you. Learn from your mistakes, but learn the right lessons. And don't blame yourself too much.'"

And this time Mikoto could believe, allowed herself to believe, couldn't not believe.

That was the gift of the Sisters, to truly know each other's minds. And, it seemed, they could share that with Mikoto. If I wasn't so happy about it I might have been a little jealous.

As we broke apart Misaka 1 had a contented little smile on her face but Mikoto still seemed to have trouble meeting my eyes, if out of embarrassment this time, judging by the dusting of red on her face, rather than guilty avoidance. Was that because of something the Misaka network had shown her? Strange, but anything was better than that heart-clenching air from before.

"So. I guess I should text Kuroko that she doesn't need to fetch me from the airport." Mikoto rubbed the back of her neck as she deliberately changed the subject. She seemed slightly sheepish at the lengths she had gone to to avoid us. "It seems so childish now…"

"And then I finally caught up with him in the control room of the rocket silo," Mikoto continued her retelling of her crazy field trip.

Sitting down with a cup of hot tea in the Sisters' living room together with Misaka 1 and myself after an opportunity to freshen up, she seemed to finally have caught a second wind. The fallen still weighed on all of us, but they didn't stand between us and that made all the difference.

"He tried to sell me some crazy story about having been mind-controlled by the EIC, or at least that's what I thought at the time." Mikoto frowned. "It was really strange. He was smiling like a lunatic, as if he didn't really care that his lies were unbelievable, and he had the weirdest facial tics.

"Anyway, I made sure he wouldn't be going anywhere while I stopped the rocket from lifting off and used mass electrolytic conversion to get rid of the oxygen by converting it all into ozone."

She said it without particular emphasis, only allowing herself a smug little grin at my impressed look.

Electrolytic oxygen deprivation was a technique she'd tried on me before, forcing me to bring out the small O2 bottle I always carried with me, but this was on a whole other level. Your usual hydrogen/LOX drive would use about half a ton of liquid oxygen per second, and a failed launch would probably release far more than that.

To affect that much mass without pumping enough energy into the system to explode the whole thing from that alone would require molecular scale precision in massive parallel on upwards of 1028 oxygen molecules per second. Was this an inroad for her into more general electrochemistry? We would have to do some experiments at some later point.

"And tying him up proved to be a good precaution," Mikoto continued without acknowledging her humblebrag, "because he actually tried not only to blow us all up but when that failed he tried to throw himself down the silo to his death!"

"'Avoiding interrogation through suicide,' says Misaka, shocked that something like that actually happens outside spy novels."

"Yeah, pretty much," Mikoto shook her head, "I couldn't believe it either. So then I started asking questions but not only would he not give up anything, his reactions were strange. His expressions didn't quite line up with his words and he continued to show fasciculations and other neurological abnormalities.

"So I remembered that time when we talked about neuro-electric analysis -"

That had been mostly in the context of her wanting to ~~show up~~keep an eye on Mental Out and to be able to tell when she had messed with someone's mind. The Sisters were clear proof of concept that electro-telepathy could work, after all.

"- but he must have had some kind of non-ferrous implant that I hadn't noticed," Mikoto continued, "because as soon as I had established a polygraph baseline…" She trailed off and shuddered.

And who would blame her. With my vector analysis field I had caught a glance of the cryogenically preserved body in the plane's hold. At a distance my resolution was pitiful, but as best I could tell something had ruptured every single neuron in the late Paul Wellgo's central nervous system. Which had to have been deeply unpleasant to witness. Worse, perhaps, if it was the first time Mikoto had to watch a person die?

Not that I would ask. Instead I put my hand on hers and, when she didn't draw back, gave a light and hopefully reassuring squeeze.

"That wasn't something you did," I said reasonably. "Someone didn't want him to talk and they murdered him to make it so. His death is on their hands, not yours."

"I know, but…" Mikoto looked away abashedly. "Even before that, I wasn't gentle about asking him. I was -" Mikoto hesitated for a moment but then pushed through. "It was, at best, one step short of torture. I was out of my mind with worry about what might happen and he made me so angry with his lies and mockery…"

Keeping my hand on hers I took a deep breath. "I've been there," I said quietly. "I'm certainly not in any position to throw stones."

"'Methods of enhanced interrogation can sometimes be necessary,' says Misaka, worrying far more about Big Sis than about an avowed enemy, 'but the emotional injury often goes both ways if they are not performed by a professional or an individual of divergent psychology.'"

"So you don't think I… that I went too far?" At our reassurance Mikoto's lips twitched in a weak but relieved smile.

As if we'd look at her differently over something as little as that. But damn, this had to have been an ordeal for her.

"I wonder if the principal will agree," Mikoto sighed. "Or the other higher-ups. I went completely against my instructions and broke every rule they set for me. That's way, way beyond just delinquency.

"It wasn't anything like fun while I was doing it," she continued in a contemplative tone. "I was feeling terrible. So sad and angry and like I was a complete failure of a big sister. But in retrospect, to cut loose to that degree, to exercise my power to the fullest and beyond, it felt cathartic."

Mikoto shook her head, her expression complicated. "It may not look that way, but I'm so very careful, most of the time, not to use more force than required. And for all my supposed delinquent tendencies, I try to keep within the rules of society. But… when I stopped caring about all of that, I essentially conquered an entire city in under thirty minutes. I blitzed straight through any resistance with overwhelming force. There was just no one and nothing there that could oppose me. I could have done absolutely anything to avenge the Sisters and…"

Mikoto paused and looked at me. "Is that how it is for you all the time?"

"I'm pretty sure the chairman has a contingency or two in case I should ever cross his particular bottom line. But apart from that?" I nodded heavily. "Yes. It doesn't mean there wouldn't be any consequences, but I could do many great and terrible things and there'd be nobody to stop me.

"Power doesn't corrupt," I moved on to answering her actual implied question, "but it reveals. When you had absolute irresistible power you chose to restrain yourself to punishing the guilty in a proportionate way. You didn't leave the city in ruins or summarily execute everyone involved, and you remained in control of yourself. That says a lot about your character."

I met Mikoto's eyes with frank approval.

"I don't think my reaction would have been so restrained and, well, proportionate. It hasn't always been in the past," I admitted and by the momentary widening of her eyes I saw that Mikoto grasped my full meaning.

She didn't draw back in horror or condemnation, though I got the feeling that this would be a subject we'd definitely be returning to at some point.

"Anyway, the point is that you're a good person, Misaka. And while the higher-ups may try to make you feel as if you've done something terrible - defying their instructions, that is, not whatever they may pretend to be upset about - they can't actually do anything more than slap your wrist. Not now that you're so very much aware that we Level Fives are strategic scale assets to the city."

Mikoto frowned. "It's not that I want to be expelled or, I don't know, put in detention forever or something. But that doesn't seem like, well, the way justice is supposed to work."

"No," I acknowledged, "it's pure realpolitik. Principal Unabara sits on the city's board of directors. She will be intimately aware that Academy City can't afford to alienate you too much. As well as that, whatever other consequences there may be, as one of her students your demonstration of power may actually strengthen her position relative to her peers."

"That's… kind of messed up."

I wouldn't argue with that and just sighed.

"'From what we have been able to learn, high politics often are,' says Misaka, with the perspective of having the memories of many Sisters stationed in various countries who read the newspapers every day. 'In the case of Academy City, though it is no moral justification, there are reasons for it to be this way.'"

Misaka 1 gave me a meaningful look and I understood where she was going with this.

"I mentioned the foreign esper programs before, didn't I?"

"Yes," Mikoto acknowledged. "With Academy City so far ahead of everyone else, I didn't think they would be any good. But I saw some of those foreign espers in action and they had some strong powers, though they were strange. Up to Level 4 even, unless that wheel-thing was controlled by multiple espers working together."

She looked between me and Misaka 1 quizzically for a moment but then she made the connection. "You're saying that there is a secret esper arms race going on and we Level Five's are Academy City's equivalent of a nuclear arsenal?"

Let it never be said that Mikoto wasn't smart as a whip. She still sounded doubtful, or perhaps hopeful that it wasn't true, but she could see the logic. The nuclear arms race of the past century was far too close and uncomfortable an analogy, after all.

"The machine cult had some information about them," I prevaricated with regard to my sources as I began to explain. "Basically, Gemstones are incredibly rare but they have existed since the dawn of modern humanity. And for as long as they have existed, people have tried to reproduce their powers. Academy City was the first to succeed in that through a scientific methodology, it's true. But there have been many previous attempts working within different paradigms.

"And they did, at some point, succeed in creating a reproducible system of seemingly supernatural powers, which due to their pre-scientific paradigm they called 'magic'."

"I suppose there could be pre-scientific herbology-based substitutes for some of the drugs used in power development," Mikoto admitted, though she was clearly still doubtful, "but their espers couldn't have been particularly impressive if we've never heard of them before now, right?"

I sucked in a breath. "Unfortunately it's the other way around. According to the information gleaned from one of those 'magicians', there may be as many as twenty or more Level 5 equivalent ability users out there. And wide range mental interference is well within their means."

"They have their own equivalent to Mental Out," Mikoto realized, horrified. "Nobody knows about them because they erase the memories of people who find out?"

"Probably," I nodded, though I was in the dark just as much as she was when it came to the nitty gritty details of magical politics. "They didn't always, and that's likely where all those legends of magic come from that modern history disregards as ignorant superstition, but nowadays they like to pull their strings from the shadows.

"Academy City's technology is far ahead of everyone else, true. But when it comes to powers we're the new kid on the block. And the established superpowers of the so-called 'Magic Side', who have had literally centuries to refine their technique and build up their arsenals, are not happy about Science muscling in on their territory."

"It sounds like some crazy manga plot," Mikoto complained, only half serious. "Shadowy conspiracies, a masquerade concealing the true powers of the world, and," she scrunched up her face in distaste, "'magic'."

"It does, doesn't it?" I laughed, not particularly happily. "Unfortunately it's the reality we have to deal with. You've seen their powered operatives yourself. I myself have, just last night, acquired hard proof of their radically divergent methods and potentially lethal incompatibility with esper powers."

"'That said, all of this is above top secret,' says Misaka, cutting in with an important warning. 'It's not even clear most of the board of directors know more than the geopolitical abstracts that they absolutely need. Thus it's best not to reveal dangerous knowledge to those who aren't already in the know.'"

"Calling them 'foreign espers' should be enough for most purposes," I nodded.

Mikoto frowned. "But wait. If there are, as you say, tensions between the 'esper' powers of the world, doesn't that make what I did even worse?" A look of horror slowly grew on her face. "Like, say, a successful nuclear weapons test?"

Taking a deep breath I leaned back in my seat, making a so-so gesture. "Maybe. If it had been an 'unprovoked' act of aggression, then sure. But if it was a reaction to the other side's provocation, it might be seen as a measured response." I shrugged. "Of course, I'm only speculating here, since I have no idea how the politics involved actually work."

"But if it works anything like the analogous political situations of the 20th century," Mikoto took up my line of reasoning with the ease of straight-A student in the sociopolitical sciences, "then responding to a 'deniable' operation with a show of strength that proves the capacity to do harm but without actually doing so would only be a minor escalation and better than looking weak."

She looked relieved at having reasoned away her horror vision of being responsible for a nuclear escalation scenario.

"Which brings us back to Paul Wellgo," I agreed, "and the question of who was giving him his orders and then cut him loose when he became a liability. Whoever it was, there are basically only two possibilities of how it was done. Either Academy City technology, and highly restricted tech at that, or a supernatural power."

"And how would some foreign agency even get their hands on something like that?" Mikoto nodded.

Neither of us liked to consider the possibility that it could, theoretically, have been a false-flag operation originating from Academy City itself.

But what would be the point of that? To threaten the rest of the world? That would only work if there were no magical superpowers, so Aleister would nix that. To split the unreliable French and or Russian cooperative institutions from Academy City? There were much easier ways to manufacture a scandal, given that we were the ones with the leverage.

No, that just didn't make much sense. Which wasn't an absolute rule-out criterion, sadly enough, but at least it made internal shenanigans less likely than enemy action.

"I suppose, if the other side has someone like Mental Out who can brainwash people, then that puts Wellgo's strange behavior in a whole new light," Mikoto mused. "His ludicrous story about being controlled by the EIC might even have been a cry for help when he was forbidden from revealing anything about who actually had put him under mind control."

"'In the end, was he just another victim as well,' asks Misaka, shuddering at the thought of what it must have been like for him if that was the case."

"Maybe the experts can still discover something, even with him like that," Mikoto said doubtfully, in a tone that made it clear that she didn't particularly like thinking about the matter.

"Maybe." Aleister himself, if no one else, I figured. And it couldn't hurt to corroborate with a detailed report. But for now I'd let the matter rest since her second wind seemed to be on the way out.

Giving me a playful punch to the shoulder Mikoto sighed in fond exasperation. "Accelerator, I'll say it again, you're the absolute worst at cheering people up.

"It's good, I suppose, that I probably don't have to worry about being arrested," she allowed. "But instead now I get to worry about the magical Illuminati looking to crush Academy City under their heel and how World War 3 will be fought with esper powers."

She sighed again, at length, letting herself sink backwards into the sofa cushions and covering her eyes with one hand.

"Sorry." The unfortunately prescient phrasing set me to fidgeting uncomfortably. "I'm so used to worrying about all of it that I didn't think about how it must sound to you."

"That's actually why I made the equipment and body armor for the Sisters," I continued. "Both the obvious versions and the undersuit they can wear under their uniform." I looked away a bit awkwardly. "I would have offered to custom fit one for you as well, but I didn't know how to bring it up."

Not without either seeming like a creep or appearing to look down on her abilities, anyway.

"You made those? 18111 gave me one to use. It was actually more easy to move in than I thought," Mikoto, in remembrance, rolled her shoulders and twisted her torso in a way that, intentionally or not, drew my gaze to her chest. "Even if it was a bit tight."

Strangely enough that seemed to be not so much a critique of my work as something Mikoto took some pride in. And something she was, judging from the glances they exchanged, rubbing in Misaka 1's face with some relish.

Well, she was the older sister, after all.

"Better to have one that fits properly," Mikoto nodded to herself smugly. "And I heard from Misaka Fifty-Five something about a special training suit?"

"'The biofeedback suit has to be worn directly on the skin,' says Misaka, cunningly disguising her challenge as a caution. 'The measurements have to be exceedingly exact.'"

"Urk." Mikoto coughed, caught by surprise while she was sipping at her tea. "That, well, I mean…" She blushed, both at her unrefined display and Misaka One's wicked if misleading implications. "We can talk about that later."

We kept chatting for a while longer, drinking the very good chamomile tea and turning the mind to less heavy subjects. It was just early afternoon, but the past hour and a half had been emotionally taxing enough for more than a week's worth, as far as I was concerned.

"'I was talking to Misaka 8168 in Kyoto,' says Misaka, idly remembering an interesting thought from this morning. 'She has a part time job as a miko at a shrine - under careful supervision from the Pandora risk management group, of course - and she suggested that at some point we should do a memorial ceremony at a shrine.'"

I hummed pensively, waiting to see what Mikoto would make of that.

Silence.

"Misaka? Mikoto?"

Only a little snore answered me. At some point the mighty Railgun had nodded off, her head sinking toward my shoulder.

I exchanged a look with Misaka One.

"'Big Sis hasn't slept at all before now, as best the network can tell,' says Misaka quietly, watching. 'We should let her regain her strength.'"

That was probably for the best, I agreed. "Can she stay with you?"

Apart from a little bit of teasing perhaps, she would be safe as could be with the Sisters.

"Where is she? Where are you keeping Onee-sama? What have you done to her?"

Shirai Kuroko stood before me in the entrance hall of the Tokiwadai Outer Dormitories, confronting me in the pose of an ambidextrous gunslinger. Her stance was loose and ready, her fingers were hovering twitchily over her chosen weapons, and her eyes pierced me with all the fire of a crusader knight ready to fight and die for their holy cause.

Nonplussed, I raised an eyebrow. I had not expected a tense showdown like this, and especially not with a teenage girl who, to someone who didn't know about the holsters with spikes she used for ammunition, looked about to lift her uniform skirt.

My aim had been specifically to avoid any such dramatic scenes. But since I didn't have Shirai's personal number and didn't want to go through Judgment, putting in a personal visit had seemed the safest bet. I raised my hands in a conciliatory gesture.

"She's somewhere safe and quiet. Well," I reconsidered my words, "safe anyway, and among friends."

Shirai took a deep breath and the fire in her eyes burned even higher, ever closer to an explosion.

Wait. That hadn't come out quite like I intended and sounded a bit as if I had in fact, like Shirai was accusing me, abducted Mikoto and was keeping her under questionable circumstances.

"She is sleeping right now," I quickly elaborated. "After the whole ordeal of last night she was so tired that she just dozed off. We didn't have the heart to wake her up. She'll return to the dorm after she wakes up, I'm sure."

Shirai cast her judging eye over me and whatever she saw seemed to be enough for her to lower her level of aggressive worry. She was still suspicious, though.

"Who is 'we'? What kind of criminal accomplices have you left my precious Onee-sama exposed to?"

She pointed an accusing finger, but I supposed that was better than preparing to try and teleport a spike through my limbs. I really didn't want to hurt one of Mikoto's friends and without knowing the details of her particular method of teleportation that was a very real possibility if she tried it.

"You're not the only friend she has," I answered with a measure of reproach. "She is allowed a life outside your 'supervision', you know…"

"Urk. That's not… it's not like that," Shirai protested, momentarily taken aback before catching herself. "Hey, don't try to turn this around on me! I'm well aware what kind of things you get up to, all charges dismissed or not. Violent delinquents are not fit company for my Onee-sama!"

"Have you met Misaka," I deadpanned, delighting in the conflict between outrage and exasperated reluctant agreement this evoked in her, then shrugged. "If she hasn't told you, then it's not my place to say."

"Anyway," I dropped the wisecracking attitude, becoming dead serious, "has she told you about how things turned out in Economics City? The riots and the deaths?"

The whiplash in tone and subject seemed to flick the switch in Shirai from love-crazed schoolgirl to Judgment officer. Her presence sharpened and, her eyes narrowing, she gave the smallest of shakes of her head.

"No? Well, I had to find out for myself as well." I sighed. "She's not one to ask for help easily, isn't she?"

There was a complicated expression on Shirai's face, part commiseration, part revulsion at having to agree with me of all people.

"Three girls died," I confided gravely. "Three middle-school girls that she had just gotten to know and appreciate as friends. And Misaka has been blaming herself for not being there to protect them, when she was on the other side of the city at the time arresting the perpetrator behind all the chaos."

"But…"

"Yeah," I agreed. "I think we got through to her on that point. But it's still not something easy to bear.

"So. What she'll need when she comes home," I exhorted her seriously, "isn't someone to interrogate her or the sexual harassment gremlin but her true friend Shirai Kuroko."

Despite the outrage that briefly flashed across her face at that particular description of her habits, Shirai soon controlled herself. She met my eyes with unblemished resolve.

"I'll always be there when Onee-sama needs me."

"Good." Holding her gaze I gave her a nod of acknowledgment.

Whatever else I might think of her, I couldn't fault her loyalty to Mikoto. And by the look in her eyes the same went for her, however much she hated it.

Misaka Mikoto

As the sun started to disappear behind the skyscrapers to the West, Mikoto was sitting high up on a rooftop with her legs dangling from the ledge.

She liked being up here. Far from the bustle of the crowds down below, in this place accessible only to a few espers, it was peaceful. It felt like problems that occupied her thoughts at school or wherever were, if not actually smaller then at least more distant here. Something she could look down upon from a great height, just like the ant-like figures down below.

Along with the couple of hours of sleep she had gotten earlier it went a long way to give her a bit of much needed clarity.

To be drawn into the Misaka Network, to truly understand the thoughts and feelings of her younger sisters, to not just guess but to experience them as unmediated truth… it had been an awesome and humbling experience.

If shared grief was halved grief, then grief divided that many ways - it still wasn't nothing. But with the network connecting them the Sisters as a whole were emotionally robust in a way perhaps no single person could be. They grieved, in their own ways, all of them. But they were there for each other and supported each other so no one had to bear more than they could.

And they had done the same for her. Just for a time, but still enough to allow her to gain a more positive perspective. Their acceptance, free of any recriminations or blame, their mutual compassion and their positive remembrance of the fallen sisters was inspiring and soothing.

Best of all, they truly did not hate her. They didn't blame her for what had happened. Most of them didn't even think she'd made that bad a mistake.

She had also made up with Misaka 18111, apologizing to her for being so evasive and prickly.

To think that 18111 and the others in Economics City had been beating themselves up just as badly as she had, before the other Sisters had spoken to them… But unlike her they had the thought patterns of actual military training to draw upon. Not the experience, but the emotional skills of dealing with the loss of dear comrades. Maybe that was something she could learn from them.

And it had been interesting to see just how much Accelerator meant to them. That first meeting with Misaka 1, his rescue of the first batch, those were some of their first and most defining memories for them. Even Sisters who had never actually met him held him in such high esteem.

There was more the Sisters wanted to show her, but her 'one-time pass from the administrator' had apparently been something strictly limited. Her time with the network had run out before they could show her more than a few additional memories of interest.

Mikoto dangled her legs restlessly. Now that she had regained some of her emotional balance, there was more she wanted to talk about. More that she felt she could now talk about. Things she had to speak out loud to make sense of in her own mind and have someone understanding and caring listen to her.

But it would be awkward with one of the Sisters, given the subject. Kuroko had been supportive and surprisingly composed earlier, but she would have to tell her about the Sisters so that was a maybe at best. And Accelerator… she would talk to him, just not now. Later.

That dork had, once again, been well-meaning but utterly unaware of propriety or personal space. Her face grew hot at the memory. It's not that it hadn't been nice. If it had been Kuroko and she'd kept her hands to herself, then yes, Mikoto could admit that a hug had been exactly what she'd needed. A demonstration of support and caring beyond what words could convey. But he wasn't Kuroko, he was Accelerator. A boy. And that made everything so much more complicated.

She had, to some degree, gotten used to his Western-style habits and occasional disregard for propriety by now. There were a few international students at Tokiwadai, so that wasn't entirely outside of her experience. Having grown up in a laboratory somewhere, maybe one of the scientists had been from a Western background and he had learned that from them?

But then he had to go and, on top of all that, say something so terribly easy to misunderstand.

On a second, more rational, contemplation, it was clear that he had to have been quoting some proverb. He had to have meant that he cared for her as a friend. Even that memory from this morning, which Misaka 16 had shared with the network, clearly pointed to that. No matter what some of the Sisters claimed in excited mental voices. But in that first moment she had received an awesome shock.

She shook her head to get the ~~crazy captivating~~useless thoughts out of her head, then she smiled ruefully.

Even then, discounting most of her social circle, there was still someone else she could talk to, wasn't there? She'd dismissed it as an option before, even when given the advice back when she'd first met the sisters. But maybe now was the time. She'd have to gloss over the existence of the Sisters, of course. That wasn't a conversation they could have on the phone since it would trip all kinds of flags. But that didn't mean she couldn't talk about her troubles at all.

Before she could talk herself out of it again Mikoto flipped open her phone and selected the very first speed dial option. The phone rang a couple of times before a voice answered and Mikoto smiled at the warmth and comfort that seemed to envelop her at the nostalgic sound.

"Hello, Mama."

This chapter and the one before were one of those mountains, I mentioned. Not sure that I hit all notes correctly or well enough. Maybe I should gave given it another editing pass, rewrite some parts, sleep over it one more night and look at it with fresh eyes. But for a first draft, which everything I post essentially is since writing whole books is entirely beyond me yet, it might serve.

Parts of it have been rather emotionally taxing to write, too. More the previous chapter than this one, but still. I guess that's what makes it good writing practice, trying to stretch my limits. Pure action I'm quick to write, if not necessarily well, but this sort of thing is hard.

I can't be sure that the way downhill will be easier or faster, especially since I'll have to do some planning for the structure of the coming arc which is something I have little to no experience in. More characters to hopefully do justice, too - I kind of worry that my portrayal of Kuroko here was a bit too superficial.

But even if my update pace should slow (or the story pacing gets a bit bogged down, another thing I worry about), there's a lot more I have planned and I hope to be able to get to it all eventually

Last edited: Nov 6, 2023

One-Way Road - Accelerator SI vs. the Toaru-verse Black Phoenix - A Harry Potter OC SI via Waifu Catalogue

The Pendragon Contingency - Warhammer 40K SI as DAoT!Arthur Pendragon Cosmic's dreams of distant worlds - Snippet archive

One-Way Road 21

With Mikoto fast asleep at the Misaka dormitory and no new catastrophes on my radar just yet, there were important chores for me to take care of. That troublesome title of Academy City's Strongest gave me a fair amount of leeway in all manner of ways, but it wouldn't balance out a reputation of being unreliable.

Thus, once again, I was going to a meeting in a parking garage, this time in District 7. There were good reasons for places like this to be a staple of clandestine meetings, of course: Obstructed sightlines, a plethora of egress points, access to potential get-away vehicles, and the atmosphere of a place where normal people wouldn't linger, to name just a few.

But, seeing the malingering teenagers and young adults wearing intentionally ripped clothes and carrying various ill-concealed weapons, against the background of dim lighting and dismal gray concrete sprayed with graffiti tags, I couldn't help but grin at the stereotypical gangster movie scene.

Conscious of my own image I didn't pause or even slow my steps.

One of the lookouts made as if to call out a challenge but the woman beside him elbowed him in the side hard. Their envoy Hamazura knew what I looked like and had probably instructed them. Or perhaps they had other sources. White hair, red eyes, there probably weren't that many espers who could be mistaken for me.

They let me pass, but I felt their eyes boring into my back as I walked deeper into the closed off parking deck. Resentment, anger, fear. Skill-Out, as a rule, did not make nice with higher level espers.

The cameras on this level all bore the signs of having been efficiently disabled, both the visible and the hidden ones. Ahead a small group of people, mostly in their late teens or early twenties, were waiting for me. They bore no obvious gang colors of any kind. Hard eyes, hardened fighters all, they stood in a loose formation far enough apart that most lower level espers wouldn't have been able to catch all of them in one manifestation of their power. Prudent.

At the center of the group, standing an improbable two meters and thirty centimeters tall, was a man in his late twenties wearing a cheap tracksuit that seemed on the verge of bursting apart from trying to contain his equally improbable muscular physique.

As I approached he uncrossed his arms, his stance open and non-confrontative but ready. Here was a man who not only knew his martial arts but had experience fighting man to man. The signs of agitation among his people as I came closer were subtle but he stilled them with a single nod and the force of his presence.

A number of small details in his movement did not quite add up, but it only took me a moment to realize what it was I was seeing: Hard Taping, the practice of misusing the modular artificial myomer bands used in powered armor as low-cost exomuscular reinforcement. All the power of a light-weight power suit with none of the armor and next to zero safeguards against ripping muscles and tendons or destroying the user's joints.

Yes, I could see why Anti-Skill was concerned about this man. Even disregarding his personal capabilities, his charisma, his willingness to take risks, and most of all the clear loyalty of his people would make him a potential threat.

Not to me, of course.

Halting a couple of steps away I set down the briefcase in my left hand on the ground beside me.

"Accelerator. You came. Good."

Komaba's voice was deep but surprisingly mild given his appearance, but then he probably had a great deal of experience trying to set people at ease. Academy City was still Japan after all and his physique alone would likely alarm people wherever he went.

"I'm a man of my word." A cliche line for a cliche situation. But why not. I could always be embarrassed about it later.

He gave a noncommittal grunt, then gave me a shrewd look. "There was quite the commotion in District 10 last night, I hear. Anti-Skill can barely keep up with the arrests of 'radicals gearing up for major terrorism action'."

There was a faint note of bitterness in his tone at the spin the news put on things that I ignored.

"Yes. Your intelligence was moderately helpful," I gave the briefcase a little nudge and it slid forward with unnatural smoothness. "Not enough to nail down the ultimate string-puller, though."

Two of Komaba's people took the case off to the side, laying it atop the hood of a car and opened it. Silence fell for a minute while they counted the money, neither the Skill-Out leader nor myself speaking while facing each other. Neither of us gave any indication of being bothered, but the two Skill-Out members not busy counting money seemed increasingly tense.

"Looks like ten million alright," one of the two underlings finally reported. "And a case with… earbuds? Like a hundred of them."

"Countermeasures against audio-based brain hacks," I explained. "Those cult fuckers love them. And," I scoffed, "the tech is starting to spread. After what they did to the groups in District 10 I'd prefer if your 'largest Skill-Out group in the city' doesn't become some random asshole's personal army."

"I'm aware," Komaba ground out, his deep voice coming out almost as a growl now. "People like that are why Skill-Out exists, I hope you realize. Rotten espers who think their powers give them the right to do whatever to us Level Zeros. Attack us for 'power training'. Hunt us down for sport. Or, these days, use us for their sick purposes like they did with the Big Spider guys."

"That cult has an equal opportunity attitude when it comes to atrocities," I pointed out reasonably. "Espers, when they catch them, get their brains scooped out and turned into spare parts. Besides," I gave him a sardonic look, "Skill-Out has never attacked innocent espers out of envy and misplaced rage? I've heard some things…"

"Not my people," Komaba stated with complete confidence and certainty. "Not if they know what's good for them. Not if they want to stay my people. Anyone we take a look at would already be sitting in prison or juvenile detention, if there was any justice in this city. Although," he frowned, "not all of the other groups are as restrained, I have to admit."

"Huh." He wasn't lying. And it would take pathological self-delusion to present a facade sufficient to fool the integration of microexpression and voice stress analysis, full spectrum electromagnetic perception, and advanced biophysical modeling I could bring to bear.

The way he spoke implied not only that this was a matter of honor and justice to him, but also that he had full confidence in the strength of his influence and control over his people to push through that vision down to the last recruit.

Was it really common for espers to bully Level Zeros to such a degree? I had to admit, I hadn't paid much attention to that sort of thing. Skill-Out gangs had honestly been mostly beneath my notice and the only esper gangs that got in my way were those that were trying to punch up rather than punch down.

But even as I posed the question to myself I realized how stupid it was. Of course they would. People did horrible things to each other even without the advantage of superpowers. And among the eminently forgettable bozos who'd challenged me over the last six months there had been some real stinkers. Espers who hadn't cared one whit about collateral damage if it increased their chances at making a name for themselves.

"Pathetic scum-sucking bottom feeders," I cursed. "How common exactly is that sort of thing?"

"You didn't know?" Komaba let out an incredulous snort, then seeing my deadpan expression he shook his head. "I guess I should have expected that. It's not like anyone else in this city cares about what happens to us. We're just failed test subjects after all." He shrugged eloquently.

Oh yes, I was getting a whole new appreciation for the ways in which this city's society was fucked up. Looking between his less controlled soldiers, there was a whole melange of emotions there. Disappointment, inadequacy, bitterness, desperation, and a whole heaping of helpless rage. My choice of words probably hadn't helped, I realized too late.

"True," I admitted, forging on nonetheless. "But you must have realized by now, that to the higher ups all of us are nothing but experimental subjects. The failed ones are discarded. And that sucks for them, for sure." I tried to keep my tone free of dismissal. But, given the suppressed reactions, either I didn't quite succeed or this was a sentence they'd already heard far too often.

"Meanwhile the successful ones are trotted around and shown off like prize poodles to get more funding. But then they'd better hope they aren't interesting enough to warrant further attention from above," I continued, my tone turning dark. "To be tested until they break and then cut up to see what makes them tick. In that order, if they're lucky. Or to match the criteria to be selected for an 'exciting new experiment' that will inevitably have survival rates that make cancer seem positively cuddly."

Three of the four lieutenants looked flabbergasted at the sudden left-hand turn of my argument. They couldn't be completely unaware of this city's Dark Side, surely? Though they might think that it was more rogue operations than something systemic. Or was it just that they were shocked to hear me say it out loud?

Komaba on the other hand just blinked at my tone but seemed unsurprised otherwise. "I know. And I hate it," he expressed, his voice rumbling with emotion. "I have family who are still going through the power development curriculum," he elaborated at my look of surprise. "But I didn't expect someone like you," a success, a profiteur of the system, a celebrity even, the implication went, "to acknowledge how rotten this city is though, just like that."

"Hah." I scoffed. "If anyone, I should know. It's only been a couple of years since I became strong enough to give the finger to any scientist coming at me sideways."

There was a shrewd look that briefly passed across Komaba's face. "I guess," he expressed slowly, in a leading tone, "espers or not, in the end we both have our problems with the way things are now."

Hoh. My eyes narrowed as I thought through the implications. The Anti-Skill files I could access through the backdoors I had in place considered Komaba's group hardly different from other Skill-Out groups which ranged from delinquents to petty criminals all the way to organized crime. But reading between the lines of the official reports and the digests of my AI crawlers keeping an eye on the online discussions, they aspired to more. In a city that was less of an oligarchy maybe they'd have been a political party.

There was no legitimate way for them to effectively act on their grievances. So they acted outside the law. But legitimacy was a matter of definition, and the authority to make that definition was ultimately a question of power. No wonder he'd try to feel me out, even if it went against the emotional currents underlying his movement.

But before that…

"You say that as if you weren't espers," I objected. "I mean, I get the us-vs-them mentality when stronger espers have treated you ill, but that's an entirely artificial divide. Do you know what I see when I look at you?" I asked dramatically.

"Telekinetic, clairvoyant, cryokinetic, telepath, biokinetic…" I pointed to each of them in turn, finishing with Komaba.

It wasn't quite so easy to tell as I made it seem, of course. A Level Zero's IDF was close to unmeasurable even with the advances in IDF scanners I'd made. And even with my abilities I couldn't do it at a glance. But we'd been talking for a minute or two, which made it entirely possible. And I could see that my conversational gambit made an impact.

Three of them flinched as if I had stated out loud some dirty secret of theirs. Maybe in Skill-Out culture it actually was. But the other two, Komaba and the telepath, just looked at me with puzzled expressions.

They had never even known what kind of esper they were before people had given up on them entirely, had they?

"Your esper abilities may not be strong or well developed, but you're definitely espers. Level Zero is still so much more than not having an esper level at all. That you have been continuously denied the help and resources to develop your abilities, it sits ill with me."

If it was up to me that should be considered a human right, like water, food and internet access.

"Um, be that as it may," Komaba said a little uncomfortably, though perhaps more for the benefit of his less flexible-minded underlings, "even helping a larger percentage of Level Zero's to increase their level, it doesn't solve the fundamental program."

"Nor does beating on a few rotten apples," I commented.

"Exactly! The system is rotten from start to finish." There was an animation now to Komaba that overcame the strict discipline with which he had held himself, the light of a revolutionary leader in his eyes. Seeing the scornful twist of my lips he clearly felt I was of like mind and continued: "Which is why we need to show the higher-ups that we're not going to take it any longer. We have to force them to…"

Oh. That went even further than I'd extrapolated Skill-Out's aims to be. Was this just a vocal minority, or was the underprivileged population of Academy City truly ready to rise in the kind of protests that you were more likely to see in Europe than in conformist Japan?

However - I cut Komaba off with a raised hand and a deadly serious expression on my face. "I'm going to stop you right there. And I'm going to tell you a few things that are for your ears only."

The pyrokinetic to my left took a deep breath, looking as if about to vocally denounce my lack of respect. But Komaba made a small gesture of his own and his man remained silent after all.

Taking this as consent I instituted a comprehensive blockade across all vectors of information I was aware of, the air gaining an iridescent shimmer and distorting like a heat mirage.

"I'm not saying I disagree," I began, my tone serious and matter-of-fact. "Frankly, there are a lot of things I'd want to change if I was in charge of this city. And if you're looking to accomplish some of those, then you have my respect. But there are a few things you have to know:

"Just last night foreign operatives attempted to detonate a fifty megaton thermonuclear device inside the city." I met Komaba's wide, shocked eyes solemnly. "The Railgun stopped them, this time. But things are probably going to get worse before they get better."

"Seriously?"

"Dead seriously," I confirmed. "Technological advantage or not, there are other superpowers in the world. And things are heating up. World War Three looks like it's going to be within our lifetimes, possibly within the next couple of months. And the higher-ups know it."

I shrugged. "None of this is stuff that they would want me to tell you or anyone, but frankly most of those guys can go explode for all I care. If you're going to speak up for the disadvantaged Level Zeros though, then you'll have to take the larger context into account."

I could see the wheels running in Komaba's mind. Clearly he understood what I was getting at. Political unrest in times of war was easily labeled as disloyalty and worse, giving rise to draconian measures unthinkable in peacetime.

"Fuck," the giant of a man pronounced at length. He met my eyes and gave me a curt nod. "Warning received."

There was a moment of tense silence after I let the privacy field drop again.

"Anyway," I finally said. "Your info was good. You know how to reach me if you find anything else of interest."

Komaba nodded slowly. "And you've been straight with us. So here's one more thing, free of charge: As I had Hamazura tell you, some of what I learned was from my regular intelligence sources. But the subverted groups weren't as careless as I implied. The crucial pointer came from some shady guy who approached me out of nowhere."

He shrugged. "I'm not about to refuse free intel, but I do check my sources. And that guy shook four of the tails I set on him but not the fifth. He went back to a laboratory building belonging to the Aleph One group, which is a little known private research institute headed by one Kihara Gensei."

"Gensei." I pronounced the name as if it was a curse. "Well, that figures. Thanks Komaba, I appreciate the heads up."

I had wondered where that guy had disappeared to. That kind of zealot wouldn't let a little setback deter him from his obsession. And I had, in a way, given him leave to pursue his Level 6 Shift so long as it wasn't the Misaka or other innocents that had to die.

Had Gensei been the one who stirred up the cult? Something had happened to make them think they were running out of time, driving them to go to insane lengths rather than stay under the radar like they'd done for years. I already suspected Gensei had been the one to stir up the various espers who'd challenged me over the last couple of months.

For him to engineer the confrontation between myself and the cult… well, if that was what he had done then it showed a rather concerning degree of intelligence and capability. And should I count him as being, to some degree, complicit in the cult's atrocities?

I shook my head. I'd have to look into expanding my sources again. Being next to impossible to harm was no excuse for a purely reactive stance.

"You know," the Skill-Out leader said in a jovial tone, "you're not what I expected from the number one 'prize poodle'."

"Nor are you, from the 'chief of the failures'," I rejoined without missing a beat.

Komaba laughed. "We should talk again sometime." He took a step forward to offer his hand in the Western style. A gesture of trust far greater than a more traditional bow, given that he had to be aware of just what I could do with but a touch.

"Sure," I agreed, shaking his hand. "Maybe someplace with a less cyberpunk ambience."

"Hah. If the shoe fits…"

The laboratory building rose ahead of us in radiant white, gleaming metal and blue-toned glass. At four stories high the building was far from the tallest in District 18, not too far from Nagatenjouki Academy, but according to the maps Keitz had shown me there were several underground levels as well.

The automatic gate bearing a conspicuously empty spot where a sign with a name should have been yielded immediately to the electronic key in the older man's hand.

"Tell me again how you got your hands on this place."

I shook my head in disbelief as, hands in my pockets, I ambled across the empty entrance way. Everything was set up for a rather typical corporate setup, with parking lots to the left and right and designated planters for trees or flowers along the way to the doors to give a bit of life to the place. The slightly recessed main entrance doors were in the same blue-toned glass but it was here the corporate image took a bit of a hit.

"Security doors come down from above," Keitz nodded at my side-glance, "and there are recesses in the walls for 'custom security measures'." He shrugged. "As I said, the building was originally meant to be a new laboratory facility for Blueshift Dynamics, but the project it was intended for was defunded. And with the big grant coming in we're at the top of the short list to get it instead."

Convenient. I grunted noncommittally.

Keitz took my barely monosyllabic answer with equanimity, triggering the automatic doors and leading me deeper into the empty building. With no furniture or decorations of any kind, bearing no mark of human habitation or even the slight imperfections of work not done by construction robots, it was slightly unsettling in its hollow uniformity.

"It would be quite a bit bigger than you strictly need right now," he continued undeterred, "but especially from a security point of view it would be the best option by a wide margin. Subsequent to a full review and deep examination, of course."

Questionable though the circumstances were, that much was clear. Although it might be a while until I had actual need of this much lab space, a dedicated building that I could fortify to my specifications might be exactly what I needed. I'd thought I'd have to settle for a windowless concrete box in one of the industrial districts for a building of my own, but this was something else entirely.

"Alright," I finally wrung out a decision, "get started on it as soon as is practical. And once that's done I want the top level converted from an office setup to apartments for key personnel."

After all, the best security possible against overt interference with my projects or my people was for me to be personally in residence. I'd do my own security sweep right now, abusing my vector field perception as an atomic scale material scanner.

"Will do," Keitz nodded, making a note on his phone. "In other news," he added in a tone of wry irony, "your request to access the records of the Special Ability Institute has been granted. Personnel records and ongoing successor projects included, if heavily redacted in many places."

"Huh. I expected to wait six to eight weeks on a form letter of denial. But between this and that…" I gave my chief of security and intelligence a questioning look.

"There is no clear implication of a quid pro quo or incurred debt," Keitz shook his head in negation to my unvoiced question. "In the context of a major research grant like the one you received for the 'advancement of neural interface technology'," he gave me a meaningful look, "it's not that uncommon for other benefits to accrue."

"Or," he shrugged expressively, "maybe your planned expansion into the power development field has caught the eye of someone on the board. This is the sort of turnaround and string pulling you'd expect on Dark Side projects sponsored by one of the directors."

Maybe.

More cynically, all these goodies were another attempt at controlling me, of course.

"Welcome to the table," the higher ups were saying, "if you want to keep your winnings, if you want to keep playing, then you have to play by our rules."

And those rules had been set up by the top tier players, the directors, to ensure that they were the ones that would keep winning. And ultimately by the chairman in order to bring to fruition his own secret design.

In the other timeline, I knew from my other memories, the directors had made quite a good attempt at outright controlling that other Accelerator through his vulnerability and, more importantly, through his massive guilt complex.

Without an injury to compromise my power or quite so terrible a mental state, that wasn't workable against me. But that still left psychological and social influence. And I didn't kid myself that I could match whatever think tanks and artificial geniuses of emotional intelligence the board of directors could muster.

My mathematical processing and scientific hypercognition applied to that sort of thing only in a limited way. And while the addition of my other memories would have rendered any previous profile invalid, enough time had passed for new assessments to be made.

Thus the higher-ups were leveraging social engineering and their control over the structures and balance of forces surrounding me in an attempt to constrain and direct me. Whatever they gave they could take away, making it so that any course of action that went against their interests would have undesirable consequences. And so they would put their fingers on every scale to weigh me down until I was completely tied down and danced to their marionette strings.

It pissed me off.

But I would play their game. For a time. As long as it took to be in a position to flip the board.

onewayonly@levelzero.ac.jp to emgunner@levelzero.ac.jp

Hey Misaka #Prime,

Hope you're feeling a little bit better and less jet-lagged.

I had my friend look into that thing we talked about: Apparently the group that was running point on counter-intelligence was hampered by a newly promoted supervisor who ignored the advice of his senior analysts. A distant nephew of one of the directors.

I'd say not to attribute to malice what can be attributed to stupidity, but incompetents make the best fall guys, my friend says.

The names and data are in the attached file. Maybe your 'special access' can find out if this was a genuine fuckup or someone set him up as a scapegoat.

We're still on for tomorrow, as usual? I have something special in mind.

Knock 'em out.

Accelerator

"This is…" Nunotaba trailed off, her gaze sweeping across the display wall split into a dozen different screens flickering through the already decrypted files captured from the Deus Ex Mechanicus facility and visibly flinching away from one of the videos.

She swallowed. "Why would they even do that? And what's even worse, I can see how they built on some of my own published work with Testament. [How dare they?]"

"It's a horror show," I agreed, not commenting on her switch into gratuitous English. As quirks went it was harmless.

Honestly, I felt a bit bad about dumping this stuff on her. Among the captured data were accounts of completely unhinged torture, while others were clinical, systematic, and meticulous - and frankly even more fucked up for it. But even pre-filtered for research and data potentially relevant to our goal, there were some terrible things in there.

The cult had clearly had a couple of highly motivated Mengeles. And many more who had had their sense of ethics surgically removed, either literally or by way of neural tampering.

"Most of the ones who worked on this are either dead or they're in Anti-Skill lockup," I added. "For whatever that may be worth."

I had a feeling that some Dark Side ventures were already salivating at the opportunity to snatch up some 'talent'. The more I learned the more I was starting to think that Mugino might have had the right idea about them after all.

Nunotaba sighed at length. Then, making a few quick gestures with the data-glove of her own design, she brought a number of displays to the fore. "So, a generalized solution to Deus Ex Mechanicus indoctrination technology? That is quite the thing to ask."

"I won't settle for anything less." ~~Nothing less than total victory was acceptable.~~

It was only the creaking sound of the slate-like input device in my hand that alerted me to the way I was clenching my fist. Reading through the records had brought back the memories of the things I'd seen first hand in that place of horrors. And since I couldn't get my hands on them, unmaking all their works would have to be enough.

For a moment Nunotaba looked taken aback at the intensity of my tone. But then she nodded in understanding and, slowly, a cruel smile grew on her face.

"I see what you mean. [Oh yes!] I quite agree. It's personal now. Pervert my work, will they?" She shook out the sleeves of her lab coat with the air of a gunslinger getting ready to make the bodies hit the floor. "I'll show them. I'll show them all!"

~~Yes, exactly like that. They would rue the day they challenged the Number One.~~

Laughing I gestured for her to take the lead.

With a flick of her gloved finger she called up one of the high-resolution neural scans on the big screen, imported a program from her own workstation and executed it.

"The self-stabilizing pattern along these pathways," she pointed out, her tone slightly manic, while the program was busy processing, "that has to be the central trunk of their mental rootkit in Subject 1."

My eyes narrowed, I followed her pointing finger as well as the shorthand notation she jotted down on a virtual surface. "I see what you mean," I agreed. "I'd been looking for something more similar to the Sisters' OS, but this is a completely different architecture."

"Let's refine the analysis a bit, but later I'll want to run a few more signal-induction tests to get more data. And give me the processed data as well this time."

Even if we had the budget for a state of the art NeuroTrace mPET-fMRI, we couldn't have gotten one on such short notice. Instead the data Nunotaba was referring to was the output extracted from the atomic vector field scans I'd taken of the captured cult devotees' brains.

Humming in agreement I plotted out the path Nunotaba's train of thought was taking. In this, her specialty, she could jump ahead of me more often than not. But I had the advantage of not needing to wait for the computer to finish its work to confirm my hypotheses.

Load recorded data into primary processing space. Apply data abstraction model 'human CNS'. Process. Extract signal information from 4D subtractive differential. Apply analysis algorithm NN12. Process. Load iterative optimizer, load hypotheses. Process. Iteration complete.

There. I blinked. With the neuronal signal data extracted as mathematical information in a neural network graph and my own variation on Nunotaba's hypothesis applied as a filter, I could extract a data stream that seemed promising.

"How about this?" Dividing the display wall into two halves I dumped my analyzed data back into the machine interface and brought it up. "We'd still need to decompile it, but…"

Nunotaba frowned at her half-processed job, then made a gesture with her data-glove as if turning a dial, progressing the time axis of my analysis back and forth. On the screen the multicolored signal fronts propagated through the neural network, spreading out and collapsing again.

"[Good catch!]" She tilted her head. "Not quite what I meant, though. This might be a secondary supporting loop? But that encoding method… let me apply that to my model. We might be onto something there."

Animatedly she began picking my code apart, condensing and streamlining the mathematics into something far more elegant. Watching her work was inspiring, her very different perspective on things complementing mine.

"And if we plug that back into… [Eureka!]"

As Nunotaba wrote out the final formula and applied it, the vast amount of imaging data began to boil down into a code stream, separating regular brain activity from artificial signals. And I could feel something falling in place somewhere in the depths of my mind, like the final cog in vast clockwork that now sprung to life.

Humming atonally I let my mind's eye drift into a softer kind of focus, the hard calculations fading into the background. It was sort of like crossing your eyes to allow the 3-dimensional shape hidden underneath the seeming chaos of an autostereogram to reveal itself.

The seemingly unordered processes of reality revealed their hidden patterns and laws, allowing an enlightened mind ~~like mine~~to intuitively grasp what entire generations of common scientists could not accomplish across their lifetimes. This was a holistic sort of processing that did not deal in linear calculations or chains of logic, but grasped and manipulated concepts in their entirety.

And I had an entire ocean of data to draw upon. Brain scans from over a hundred subjects at various levels of the cult's hierarchy, samples and documentation from two dozen different cognitive interference weapons and mental malware, and even a glimpse at the workings of two arch magos computation substrates.

That vast ocean folded in upon itself and out, like a sequence of higher dimensional lotus blossoms. And within the chaos of unordered data noise I vaguely intuited a shape. Carefully, very carefully, I let the shape flow through me and suffuse me. And only when it was fully a part of me did I emerge from the ocean like a diver at the very end of their air supply.

My head was pounding and I had to take active control over my internal vectors to dissipate the heat that even optimized blood flow could not by itself discharge from my brain. But I had it, I had the key in my hand.

It only took a few additional manipulations through the input pad under my hand and things fell into place as if they had always meant to be. On the screen the organic looking nerve pathways and signal records exploded, unraveling into a constellation of data structures and dependencies.

"There. How is that?"

"That… but the decryption keyspace…" Nunotaba let out a nonplussed laugh. "Best lab assistant ever." But the way she said it took the sting from her words. This was my lab after all.

We were far from done, of course. We could read their code now and see, in clear-text, what they were doing. But that was only the first step. We still had to finish unraveling the architecture and individual functions, before reverse engineering the neuroscientific principles they exploited. And then formulate an entirely new countermeasure.

There was a lot of work ahead of us still. Which was why I was glad to work with someone who could keep up.

"Yoshiaki is busy cataloging the different nerve interfaces and types of artificial muscle and this isn't his field anyway," I mused as we divided the small mountain of neuro-programming code to work through between us. "But Dr. Kiyama would probably be happy to help on the novel cognitive interference modules. That's something that might help her with her own project, after all."

The doctor, last I talked to her, wasn't exactly happy about how this unscheduled deviation would likely delay work on a cure for her students. But she wasn't so callous as to argue against helping the cult's victims. She was monofocused, not evil or amoral.

Apart from continuing to crunch data for her, my own contributions had been slight these last two days. However bad I'd feel if I had to say it out loud, the childrens' condition was stable. But the hundreds of captured cult victims - and the possibility that hundreds more were being indoctrinated without being noticed - were a pressing issue.

Wicked chords rang out through the variable acoustics hall at the new laboratory building.

I had wanted to do something to help cheer Mikoto up. And so, remembering how playing music together with others had never failed to raise my spirits in my other memories, our regular ability practice date meetup had ended up being music-themed today.

Mikoto, of course, had enjoyed an extensive musical education, having started playing the violin at the ungodly age of five. And while she, slightly embarrassed, claimed to be far from where someone truly aiming for world class would have to be after ten years, she was still really damn good.

But it was the musical lightning, also called the zeusaphone or the singing tesla coil, that she was playing today.

Somehow, although she had known of the phenomenon, the intersection between the two fields hadn't been something she'd seriously considered before. Or maybe it was playing music together that made the difference.

Either way, once we got into it Mikoto took to it like a fish to water. From projecting just one controlled discharge from her head to run different scales up and down she'd quickly gone on to play melodies she'd known from her violin practice, marveling at how different the harsh tone of the electrical vibrations made them sound.

But unlike her violin, her ability could play more than one line at the same time. First it had been her hands that joined the fray, then individual fingers. And before we knew it we had enough virtual instruments for complex scores.

The last chords of the AC/DC classic faded away.

"This is fun," Mikoto grinned. "Keep working on the sound, though. At the end we were very nearly there."

My own power meanwhile lent itself well to the applications that were difficult for singing tesla coils, like rhythm instruments. With a bit of experimentation I'd soon figured out how to enhance, split, multiply and transform a tapping foot into a whole drum set and percussion section to support her. But emulating physical instruments was still a work in progress.

"Again," Mikoto suggested. "And this time with vocals."

"Do I have to?" I didn't whine. I really didn't, no matter what anyone might say. "I'm more of an instrumentalist, vocals were never…"

"No excuses," she cut me off with a wicked smile. "I'm already doing most of the work."

That work ethic of hers made Mikoto into a real slave driver when it came to these things, apparently. Not that there was any chance of me refusing her, no matter how self-conscious I was about my terrible singing.

But as we started again it turned out less awful than I'd feared. While in my other memories I could never hit a single note with my voice, my esper ability was essentially the most precise measuring instrument ever, far beyond a mere human's perfect pitch. Translating that data into properly optimized vocal cord control took some doing, but hey, I'd never done that before so it was good training.

And my power could also do some sneaky post-processing if I missed the right frequency.

By the end I'd gotten into it almost as much as Mikoto who was really going at it now, adding a fair bit of impro to the driving electric guitar and bass melodies. It was actually pretty damn cool to be able to sing in tune with someone else and actually sound passable while doing so.

"See? That wasn't so bad. I mean, don't start planning your idol career just yet, but…"

I gave Mikoto a look of exaggerated dismay, one hand to my chest as if mortally wounded. She just laughed brightly and punched my shoulder.

"So, my turn now? I'd really like to try a Big Band arrangement. Something to really challenge you."

"Oh yeah? Bring it on!"

The parallel processing to play more than a dozen instruments at once wasn't really the challenge here. Something like that was trivial for an esper on our level. It was in properly modulating each one and giving each one the character that made it more than just a midi synthesized sequence of tones.

As for me, the true strength of my ability as related to music was in filtering, altering, and transforming. And after dozens of iterations I was coming into my own now and could, essentially, be an entire sound effects studio all by myself. Working together we could give completely different tonal qualities to her various tesla sections.

And that meant we weren't limited to the electric tones of regular tesla coils anymore. I could, for example, give one of her hands the sound of a brass section while transforming the sound from the other into saxophones. Well, it was a work in progress, anyway.

Hands and palms maybe ten centimeters apart, fingers spread far, we probably looked as if we were playing cat's cradle with flickering lightning. But, after a few false starts, rather harsh crackling all around us an adaptation of a famous Big Band classic began to rise to the ceiling in building glory.

"I never got into that sort of music before, but it's actually pretty fun," Mikoto commented after the first successful run through, eyes gleaming.

"It's stood the test of time for a reason," I confirmed, happy to share some of my favorite music to play. "Think you're up for a solo this time?"

"You bet," Mikoto confirmed, with a look that just screamed 'challenge accepted'. "But before that, I want you to adjust your post-processing for the lead-in and lead-out for the individual notes like this." Her bangs sparked and the full score projected on one of the walls gained an additional layer of added notation, this one more mathematical than musical.

"I can do that."

"Good," Mikoto vibrated in place with energy. "Now again," she commanded imperiously. "And this time better. Plus the timbre of the saxophone still sounds off, somehow. Keep working on that."

"Yes, my empress," I saluted, reprising our old Star Wars joke.

"Krk." Was that what a record scratch looked like in an actual conversation? I didn't think it was that bad a joke, but it seemed to hit her differently and Mikoto seemed to waver between exploding and imploding for a few seconds.

"No inappropriate jokes during practice," she finally snapped, her face flushed. "Know your place."

"Yes, maestra." I took her reprising that line as a sign that she wasn't truly angry with me.

"Better," Mikoto acknowledged with an affected look of superiority. "Now, no more distractions. One, two, three, four…"

As we started again I wished that I had thought to bring a camera or to turn on the recording suite. Mikoto, with her head crowned by writhing lightning, her face set in an expression of passionate concentration, expressing her power with elegant precision, it was a sight I'd never get tired of. Her bossing me around with the air of a true maestra wasn't bad either.

And she definitely wasn't moping anymore. Ah, I'd missed this, the happy and carefree Mikoto from before all this ugly stuff had come crashing down on her. That was why, even if it was only for a few minutes longer, I didn't want this moment to end.

So when Mikoto reached the end of her solo, rather than segue into the outro part I went back to the start of the impro solo section and took up her last theme to improvise on further, using a plasma halo in place of her tesla discharges. Mikoto, not slow on the uptake, immediately took over the backings but indicated with a little gesture that she wanted another turn as well.

So we switched back and forth, playing balls back and forth, a musical construct like a ladder built into the air with each rung only resting on the one that came before, but somehow coming full circle in the end. Unlike in my other memories I could let my mathematical processing take care of the musical theory and focus entirely on the creative and emotional part.

It was a feeling as if, when I'd always been able to walk at best, now I could fly.

Meanwhile Mikoto, eyes closed and nodding her head in time to the beat, left behind simple white and blue lightning in favor of adding changing colors to her composition until the prismatic interplay had an almost hypnotic effect.

By the time we let the last note fade out Mikoto was grinning like a loon and I must have looked similarly touched in the head.

"That was…" She trailed off, her brown eyes veritably sparkling.

"Yes," I agreed at length, not having the words but knowing exactly what she meant.

In terms of destructive applications we already stood at the peak of what was possible. But creation? That had an entirely different charm. And music… to quote a book from my other childhood, music was a kind of power beyond everything we did here.

We both realized at the same time that we'd been staring at one another for too long, caught up in the power of the moment.

Thinking quickly I flipped the virtual page to the next title and simply started with an improvised drums intro. There was just no time for awkwardness when the drumbeat was driving and your cue was about to come up.

In the end we forgot the time and our impromptu band session lasted long enough that Shirai, from the tone of her voicemails, was close to pulling her hair out. And then we had to rush to make sure Mikoto avoided the wrath of that ominous dorm supervisor.

"Thank you," Mikoto ventured, a bit shyly, as we parted on the roof of the Tokiwadai outer dormitory. "Pushing the limits is always fun, but today was even better. I needed that, I think"

There was a soft little smile on her face that was utterly captivating. What kind of expression was I making? I had no idea.

"Then I'm glad. I thought we could both use some positive vibes." Normally I would make a joke at this point to diffuse this strange intensity in the air, but I stopped myself. "Good night, Misaka," I said simply but with feeling.

"Good night, Accelerator."

And then I disappeared from sight, just barely ahead of Shirai teleporting onto the roof.

Today had been a good day.

It's still November, so I did manage to hit my goal of two chapters this month. But I have no idea how other people manage to get enough done to make it worth calling NaNoWriMo.

Sadly I couldn't find a higher class of recording for Electric Lady. Perhaps because the arrangement I had in mind is beginner level. But the combination of the name and the energy were just right.

Also, there are limits to obliviousness and denial. And we're coming up to them now.

I do worry a bit that I'm getting bogged down in sidestories and slice-of-life stuff. That's what sand-trapped me on Black Phoenix.

Next in my outline is a slightly butterfly'd Poltergeist, although as I've said before there is likely to be a bit of work-related delay. Plus, you know, figuring out how to weave the many dangling threads into that.

Last edited: Nov 30, 2023

One-Way Road - Accelerator SI vs. the Toaru-verse Black Phoenix - A Harry Potter OC SI via Waifu Catalogue

The Pendragon Contingency - Warhammer 40K SI as DAoT!Arthur Pendragon Cosmic's dreams of distant worlds - Snippet archive

One-Way Road 21.S

A Certain Teleporter's Troubled Mind II

Something had changed. Shirai Kuroko, Level 4 Teleporter and herald to the Ace of Tokiwadai, wouldn't have been able to say what it was but it was there. Like a sound that was just the slightest bit off. Or a patch of color on a wall that seven out of ten people would say was the same, but which she could tell was just the tiniest shade too dark.

She paused in her idle practice, rearranging the pencils for art class on her desk by rapid precision teleports, and tilted her head to listen. Nothing. But something was still off. She could tell. The same way she had known not to try anything with that delinquent that her Onee-sama was so taken with.

Huh. Actually it was exactly like that.

It bothered her, like something out of place, like a gap in her teeth that she couldn't help but worry at with her tongue. And while she was less than clear on what exactly it was she felt, if she closed her eyes and covered her ears in an improvised sensory deprivation exercise… yes, she could narrow it down to a vague direction: Up.

Kuroko looked at the clock. It was five minutes to curfew. And slightly less than ten minutes after Mikoto had texted her that she would be right there, arriving on the roof. One plus one made two.

In an instant she was gone from her dormitory room. Others might need a couple of seconds to calculate the precise coordinates, but for Shirai Kuroko something like this was trivial. Not for nothing was she one of Academy City's most capable teleporters, and the dormitory was a place she knew down to the millimeter.

And indeed, just as she'd hoped there on the roof Mikoto was waiting for her. For the briefest moment something seemed to move in her peripheral perception, like the presence of someone that you could neither see nor hear but knew was there anyway. Then it was gone.

So it wasn't, as she'd faintly hoped, an actual, literal Onee-sama radar that she was developing, Kuroko concluded. Bummer. Still, Mikoto was here now so -

Kuroko's heart leapt into her throat. Onee-sama was wearing an expression unlike any she had ever seen from her. She was smiling, but not like she normally did, brash and confident or friendly and companionable. There was a softness to it, an openness and vulnerability, and a note of something else that she couldn't name.

It was radiantly beautiful and Kuroko fell in love with her Onee-sama all over again. If this was one of her manga - well hidden in an encrypted folder on her phone - then there would surely be sparkles and flower petals flying everywhere on the page.

"Onee-sama…" Kuroko breathed.

Mikoto's eyes focused, as if she only now registered Kuroko's presence.

"Oh, there you are, Kuroko."

And suddenly that ineffable radiance was gone. Mikoto was her normal friendly self and seemed happy to see her roommate. But something in her expression had closed up, the doors of the sanctum sanctorum falling shut.

That look hadn't, after all, been meant for Kuroko.

Something shattered.

Was that her heart or just the fanciful illusion she had built up for herself in these few endless seconds? It felt as if something had squeezed all the air out of her, a sucking empty vacuum of despair.

"Is something wrong? It should still be a couple of minutes before curfew, so the supervisor couldn't have punished you."

"No," Kuroko managed to choke out, "nothing's wrong. Come, let's get in before…"

Onee-sama's kindness was like pressure applied to a gaping wound, the thought appreciated but wholly inadequate to stem the bleeding.

Later she couldn't quite remember the details of how she had teleported them back down to their dormitory room, weathered the curfew inspection and got ready for bed.

All Kuroko remembered was Mikoto intermittently falling into humming an unfamiliar melody, staring into the distance and, once again, that smile. Haunting her with the realization that it wasn't meant for her.

It was only the next morning, after a restless night spent wrestling nightmares no matter whether she was awake or not, that a long shower managed to shake her out of that shell shocked numbness. It wasn't that Mikoto was any less friendly, caring or otherwise less than her closest friend. It was just that she still wasn't more than that.

And, somehow, that boy seemed to have found a way into Onee-sama's heart when her own demonstrations of affection hadn't yet gotten through to her. She couldn't fathom it.

Within Mikoto's chest, despite her tomboyish demeanor and brutish habits, beat a maidenly heart. Underneath the bluster there was shyness and insecurity, too. Kuroko knew that better than anyone.

As much as she loved Tokiwadai, she would never forgive her former seniors for treating Onee-sama so badly that she had built up walls like these around her heart. Some blasted hag had really hurt her. And those upper year harridans in Onee-sama's first year - before she had her Kuroko to police behavior like that - had teased her terribly.

That was why she needed all the affection and love that Kuroko could give her. To make it most abundantly clear that she was valued, desired and loved. Until she could believe it herself again.

And since subtle hints hadn't worked and Mikoto straight up avoided topics like these when she had brought them up, Kuroko had resolved to go straight past those walls Mikoto had built up around herself and make sure she knew exactly how much her Onee-sama meant to her.

That abominable boy had called it 'sexual harassment' but that was completely missing the point.

One of these days she would finally get through to her! Constant dripping wears the stone. Eventually, despite the knee-jerk rejection and self-deprecation that caused her Onee-sama to be unable to accept her, she would realize that she was worth being loved.

All she needed was persistence. Yuri manga couldn't have lied to her, could they?

Besides, girls' love was a pure and beautiful thing and incomparable to ugly old men harassing innocent girls on the train. It was utterly absurd to confuse the two.

But to disregard evidence because it didn't fit your theory was wholly unscientific. So what difference in approach was responsible for that boy gaining a lead of her? If she could determine the key factor, then she could adopt that - and execute it better, because she was Shirai Kuroko, Mikoto's destined partner.

"You're being very quiet this morning, Kuroko," the subject of her thoughts mused out loud as they walked to the bus station together.

"Just thinking about things."

"No, seriously, are you feeling alright? You didn't even lecture me about my 'delinquent ways' even once…"

Normally this would be the time to express her love for her Onee-sama. But right now that would only be a bitter reminder of - Kuroko cut off the thought with a hefty chunk of 11-dimensional trajectory calculations.

"You had a good time yesterday, didn't you, Onee-sama?"

"The best," Mikoto said lightly, head laid back and looking into the blue sky.

"But… you didn't do anything irreversible, did you?"

"Kuroko!" Mikoto's head whipped around, and she stood still. Her tone was scandalized. "No! It's… it's not like that."

But that wasn't as strong a denial as she'd have liked to hear. Not a categorical or even disgusted refusal to entertain the notion, just her usual tomboyish weakness to risqué suggestions and the general subject of adult topics.

And there she went, increasingly giving an impression of a tomato, thoughts spiraling out of control. Despite being the older of the two, her Onee-sama was surprisingly innocent in some ways and so easily flustered.

It would have been cute, Kuroko thought to herself, if she'd managed to induce such a meltdown in connection with herself. Almost as inspiring as that fantasy of Mikoto as the suave and dominant senior taking her junior in hand and teaching her Kuroko the joys of womanly love.

But as it was, it was just another arrow piercing her heart.

A change of subject, quickly now, she needed a change of subject. "By the way, you have PE today, don't you? Did you remember to pack your clothes?"

As conversational ploys went it was a weak one, but it worked. As Mikoto complained about her fussing (and about going through her clothes again) the conversation returned to a comfortably familiar course.

But she had to accept reality. Somehow that boy had truly managed to sneak into Onee-sama's heart. Kuroko would have to revise her three step plan to reveal him as an unworthy contender. No matter how justified her concerns, appearing as a jealous homewrecker was unacceptable. And she didn't want to hurt her Onee-sama.

But neither could she accept giving up. Oh no, Shirai Kuroko was no quitter. Not in her official duties, nor in love. She would show him what she was made of. And in the end Mikoto would see that there was no one more right for her than Kuroko.

She would prevail! She would!

In time she would wipe that amused smile from his face, as if she amounted to nothing more than a child scrabbling at the shins of an adult.

And she would win Onee-sama's heart, forever.

If 'esper power training' hadn't merely been some kind of euphemism, then maybe that was the way?

"Say, Mikoto, there's the System Scan next week. And I'm kind of stuck on something. Do you think you could help me?"

"Sure!" Mikoto didn't hesitate even for a second. "What do you have in mind?"

Ah, no matter the circumstances it was good to see her happy, rather than grief-stricken moodiness of the last few days, ever since that tragedy in Russia.

"I was thinking," Kuroko began slowly, her thoughts racing to find a plausible excuse. "You have that microwave radar that means you never run into things. Do you think I could develop something like that as well?"

Huh. The more she thought about it the more Kuroko liked the idea. She'd always made do with just her extraordinary spatial awareness to discern her surroundings and memorize them. Helped in no small part by Uiharu's facility for looking up actual maps, over time she'd assembled an increasingly complete map of the city and its important buildings in her mind.

But… if something about that boy stuck out to her in some form of extrasensory perception, then that meant that there was more of a clairvoyant component to her ability than she had thought. Perceiving spatial anomalies? Perhaps something like a mass sense?

More than just being a convenient excuse, this had actual potential.

And if nothing else, then it was a perfect reason to spend more time with her Onee-sama. And that meant less time that a certain boy could lay claim to.

Ah, Kuroko. What a strange mixture of perceptive and delusional…

Not sure if I want to make this an actual official interlude or rather relegate it to omake status. Mostly I had that "Kuroko's horrified reaction" image stuck in my mind and went from there.

Edit: Also I hope it doesn't come across as just dunking on Kuroko. She may not go about it in the most sane of ways, but she does really care. She wants Mikoto to be happy. She just isn't giving up on her own happiness. The most difficult path.

Last edited: Dec 24, 2023

One-Way Road - Accelerator SI vs. the Toaru-verse Black Phoenix - A Harry Potter OC SI via Waifu Catalogue

The Pendragon Contingency - Warhammer 40K SI as DAoT!Arthur Pendragon Cosmic's dreams of distant worlds - Snippet archive

A Certain Studious Student's Life in Nagatenjouki Academy (reader omake, canon)

AN: Here is an omake for a great story. Cheers!

A Certain Studious Student's Life in Nagatenjouki Academy

"Finally can I beat you, you fiend!"

"Ha! You can only chase my shadow!"

"Silent!"

Both Kiyabu and Okada quieted down when the teacher reprimanded them.

It was the quarter yearly ranking of students. It was a tradition Nagatenjouki had that ranked every single student in the school. The school prided itself on their students success, whatever its in academics or practical matters.

They had unfortunately hadn't managed to produce a Level 5 but Okada thought that it was only a matter of time before they made one.

Both Kiyabu and Okada were students of top students in academics. They were competitive for the top ranking spots. Sometimes did their hotheadedness spiral out of control and they were both knocked down to respective 2nd rank and 3rd rank on the list. The one that often took the lead if they couldn't focus on their own was,

"-Shiba, do you think you will take the 1st rank?"

"Hmpf! Of course. I have took record on my study hours this month. This time will I get 1st rank two times in a row!"

Okada turned to see Shiba Akira. She was always hot on the heels of them. The 4th rank and so on wasn't that smart. They simply couldn't keep up.

The three of them hadn't had any problem succeeding getting 1st rank but the problem was holding it.

The ranking system was so that every single student in the school got a rank four times a year. The point system favored students that took many courses and succeeded in getting good marks in them too, otherwise would just the points from the test get watered down. Students could gather more points from extra assignments, tutorship and group projects. There was a certain level of prestige and respect that could be gained from the top ranking spots in the entire school. It proved that you was truly studious and managed to work hard under pressure.

He had even heard that the Board of Directors has sought a successor from the graduated students from Nagatenjouki that had succeeded in holding the 1st rank position three times in a row and get 4000 points during their student life here.

It was most likely just a rumor, but who can say for sure since according to the rumor all Directors of Academy City is old and since they do not seem to give the seats to their families. Then they surely intend to pass them to geniuses of Academy City. Nagatenjouki was one of the places where geniuses gather.

He looked around to see if anyone else had something to comment but anyone else looked just uninterested. They had heard this many times already and had tuned them out.

"The quarterly rankings will now be listed," said the teacher.

The ranking began to roll from the bottom up.

There did he know some of these names. They were people he used to be with, before. Before they discovered that they couldn't handle the pressure and stopped to study enough. Some weren't even anymore in the school.

Okada held his breath as she came to the top five rankings in the entire school.

"No!"

There he saw it. 4th rank: Shiba Akira. 338 points.

He frowned. Normally she wouldn't have let herself get kicked out of the top three rankings. Did someone under her get a lucky break on her, perhaps.

"No!"

3rd rank: Kiyabu Sora. 339 points.

His rival since he entered NJ has always been competing with him on the ranking. He couldn't help but grin a bit at the pleasant news.

"… !"

2nd rank: Okada Shuichi. 340 points.

He read the sentence but it didn't make sense.

It's impossible that someone had managed to beat the three of them! They had always kept the top scores!

"Impossible!"

"Someone beat the Trinity!"

"How could someone beat Oka-chan?!"

Okada ignored that last one with the ease of someone with years of practice.

He suddenly remembered a rumor he earlier hadn't thought about. It was said that one of the Level 5s had joined the school. It created a huge buzz but when no one saw who it was it was deemed false.

His mouth dropped open.

1st rank: Accelerator. 2731 points.

"What?!"

"This cannot be!"

"The fuck!?"

"Oh my god!"

Okada stared in a daze. He silently thought that if Board of Directors had a criteria for a successor; what criteria would the chairman of Academy City have?

Would Accelerator succeed the chairman?

Okada couldn't let the thought go even after the teacher had completed the lesson. It continued to haunt him.

Jesus Christ, I acknowledge my need of You and Accept You as my Savior and Redeemer, my Lord and my Deliverer. I invite you now to be the Lord of the whole of my life. Thank you that your blood was shed that I might be set free, Amen.

Such Misfortune? (canon omake)

PinkShadowReader said:

A Certain Studious Student's Life in Nagatenjouki Academy

Click to expand…

Click to shrink…

In reaction to this canonized reader omake…

Canon Omake: Such Misfortune?

The urge to sneeze hit me out of nowhere.

Gah! That sort of thing shouldn't happen with my control over nerves and fibers as refined as it was. Had I truly gotten so distracted as to let things slip like this? A quick internal review assuaged that worry. Probably just a momentary blip.

Or maybe somewhere out there someone was cursing my name with all their heart. I quietly laughed to myself at the absurdity of the thought.

Shaking my head I returned my attention to the chaotic-looking web of papers, files, notes and recorded data. My request to receive the scientific legacy, such as it was, of the Special Ability Institute had been nominally granted. But even apart from the material that was officially redacted, there were other blank spots: Individuals concealing pet projects or their less-than-scientific crimes, ripped out references to other projects requiring codeword clearance, and plain old poor record-keeping.

It meant that even promising leads marked by the AI-assisted data sorting pipeline I had run the whole thing through, often turned out to be incomplete.

Such as this particular document: NMF-441 through NMF-447 were psychoactive compounds that had been used in an attempt to either 'split', 'intensify' or 'invert' the subjects' self/reality perception. Which hadn't resulted in any real progress towards dual coexisting Personal Realities, but several of the victims had died while expressing poltergeist-like phenomena.

There might be a lead there towards clarifying what exactly had been done to Kiyama Harumi's students, I concluded.

Unfortunately all further references to the compounds themselves were missing, apart from the molecular structures which I had laboriously extracted from the mass-spectrometry analysis matrix.

~~So all I needed was a synthesis method and, say, three test subjects each and I'd soon learn more. Maybe some of them would even survive.~~

Which meant that I had to approach things the hard way. I was accomplished enough in the field of nootropic neuropharmacology, but this being Academy City that was only one branch of the tree.

With a sigh I switched to the Nagatenjouki Academy learning environment and entered my student ID and password. Eventually I'd want to get into the primary literature, of course, but for a structured approach to learning a subject from the fundamentals upwards the Dangai University courses I could access through the school were the best I'd found.

Settling in for a long session I kept one hand on the high-speed input device. And, just as expected, after the first couple of pages of reading the AI learning assistant popped up with test questions and exercises to make sure I'd understood everything covered up to this point.

It could have been annoying, given that - since I was, well, me - I knew that I didn't require repetition to absorb the material. But, honor to whom honor is due, Dangai University wasn't the leader in the field of AI research for nothing.

The questions were incisive, requiring more than mere application but deeper thought, analysis and synthesis. And the exercises scaled to my past performance, meaning they were by now tricky in the extreme. The vector input device could barely keep up as I let my thoughts coalesce into written words, formulas, and diagrams. So in the end I didn't mind that much, despite the delay.

~~After all, I was never one to turn down a proper challenge.~~

I could, admittedly, have done without the gamified system of gaining percentage points for every correctly solved problem. And the cumulative 'high score' display at the end of every module was more of an uncomfortable reminder that for all its convenience my education would probably be tracked by a think tank somewhere.

Eh, whatever. I had more important things to worry about.

By the time I realized I was surrounded, there was no escape anymore. Caught in the open in the middle of the food court in one of the larger malls in District 15 there was no way to disappear without being obvious about it.

Plus, there were way too many innocent bystanders to risk the attackers firing their abilities indiscriminately.

Inwardly groaning I controlled my body language to give no sign that I had noticed the three espers approaching me. Instead I kept my eyes on the screen of my phone and sent a quick text message to Misaka One and Misaka Seven, who had roped me into accompanying her on a shopping trip, to keep away from the likely battlefield.

Coming from my left was a tall and lanky boy around my age with brown hair and glasses that shone like headlights with the intensity of the IPD field layered into them. His right hand was constantly adjusting the obvious focus of his ability and he was wearing an increasingly frustrated frown as his eyes were fixed on me.

To my right a black-haired high schooler was descending from the upper level on what looked like a see-through echo of the actual stairs that were a ways further back. He was rather chubby and, judging from his movements, not particularly active. But his eyes were sharp and experienced and his IDF had the greatest depth and complexity of the three.

The one behind me I'd initially noticed by their all-out use of their ability which shone in my inner eye with a pale radiance. A bit of light-bending allowed me to identify them as a girl the same age as the other two, with red hair and an athletic build. Her ability seemed to be suffusing her body rather than expressing itself externally and she was carrying a tube over one shoulder that might hold a sword or a bokken.

All three were wearing the uniform of Nagatenjouki Academy.

In a trick of sound propagation vector manipulation the hustle and bustle of the surrounding food court fell away into complete silence as I addressed them, rising from my lone seat at the table. "Oh? You're approaching me?" Menace radiated outward like a blast of arctic cold air.

The girl blew out a breath heavy with opalescent gas and the invisibly glow of the IDF woven through her skin and muscles redoubled. "My name is Shiba Akira. And I have a bone to pick with you, Accelerator."

Join the queue, girl.

The lanky boy with the ability-infused glasses flinched, his head whipping back and forth as if he could see the trap closing around the three of them, before visibly steeling himself to glare at me. "Kiyabu Sora. I will have the truth from you, Accelerator."

Hoh? His ability as best I could tell was some form of psychometry. Espers like that usually knew better than to challenge me for my top rank spot.

The last of the three finished his last steps at a measured pace and allowed the ghostly construct to disperse. His eyes fixed mine without fear, his stance loose and his IDF coruscating around his head like a crown of light. "And I am Okada Shuichi. We are here on behalf of the students of Nagatenjouki to set things straight."

So that's what this was. I probably should have expected it, after all that Mikoto had told me of Tokiwadai's internal gang conflicts. Nunotaba hadn't mentioned anything like that for Nagatenjouki, but then she had spent more time on classified projects than in regular school attendance in her life. I sighed

"Let's get this over with, then."

Most likely the psychokinetic would strike first, unless the body-augmentress went for a bare-handed attack. The psychometric would likely hang back and try to identify a weakness or gap in my defenses. Hopeless, of course. Under the control of my power the air inside the exclusion zone I'd set up was already set to solidify into a grid of invisible restraining bars.

Against my expectations it was Kiyabu who moved first, withdrawing a clipboard from his school bag. "Two thousand seven hundred and thirty-one points," he read out, his tone one of tranquil fury. "Equivalent to three years of Nagatenjouki's high school curriculum with a full course load."

"Not to mention quite a bit of extra credit. Or two years while taking university level courses on the side," Shiba added.

"And for some reason the school's records claim that you did all that in only three months," Okada finished, his eyes like chips of dark stone. "No matter what Dr. Kato says, that's just not within the realm of the possible."

All three pairs of eyes skewered me with implied accusation.

What? I blinked.

"Come again?"

"How did you manage to both hack the school mainframe and fool the teachers but without realizing that it was a completely unrealistic number?" Okada elaborated in a steady tone.

I must have looked utterly baffled. I'd expected a fight. I'd calculated a good chance of having to prevent bystander casualties even, given the likely intensity of abilities involved. But this - an accusation of academic malfeasance, at the high school level of all things - it just didn't make any sense.

"No guilt, no deception, no recognition even. And no control markers." That was Kiyabu. "No microexpression inconsistency that I can see. A psychometric blank spot, as expected, but conventional analysis seems workable."

"Bullshit," Shiba spat. "Check again."

"Interesting." Okada tilted his head. "Framed for fraud by someone else then?"

"Now wait just a second." Shaking my head I dissolved the invisible bars of solidified air. "If you're not here to collect a beatdown like all the other fools who think they can challenge me for the Number One spot, then what the fuck are you annoying me for?"

One explanation later I was groaning and facepalming.

"That fucking AI's questions. They must have decided to count those answers as actual tests, essays and project work. I thought it was just some stupid gamification incentive system."

"But…"

"Wait, are you saying you actually did all those courses?" At my nonchalant shrug Okada's eyes bugged out as if I'd slugged him in the gut. "How?" he gasped.

Shiba shook her head, protesting. "There just aren't enough hours in the day."

But Kiyabu's gaze was fixed on me with an intensity that was only further enhanced by the unnatural shine of his glasses. "You're not lying. From the beginning there was no reason for you to lie."

"But…"

"Just because you can't imagine any further improvements to your study routine…" He needled the girl, though his heart didn't seem to be in it.

"Don't you even start!" Shiba exploded - literally, as a small blastwave of pearlescent gas blew off of her in all directions. "Aerial Kenjutsu is the optimal way of integrating multiple forms of ability practice. But I guess someone like you who is content to stay at the bottom of Level 3 wouldn't understand that."

Kiyabu's face twisted, clearly stung, but Okada interrupted the burgeoning quarrel. "Childish arguments aside… how is it then, that you can make all of our blood, sweat and tears look entirely worthless without even meaning to?"

"So… you aren't here for an all-out esper battle?" I eyed the three of them with a measure of skepticism.

"No?" Now it was Okada's turn to look puzzled. "We're well aware of our esper level. No doubt we'd give a good showing but inevitably lose. This is a matter of academics."

"For two of us, that is," Kiyabu added. "One of us would fit right in at Tokiwadai in more ways than one."

"All I said is, we should be prepared," Shiba objected. "You know the rumors as well as I do."

Suddenly I felt very tired. While Shiba and Kiyabu started bickering again, I let the exclusion zone dissolve into a softer sound dampening field and sighed at length.

"Alright. I guess that makes you smarter than 98% of the people that usually get in my face." I leaned against the table and rubbed my forehead. "Look. It's simply not a fair comparison. I told the administration, I told the principal, that he should leave me out of it. That I wouldn't accept being used in their games of one-upmanship with other schools."

"Technically it's only an internal ranking," Kiyabu pointed out.

"But it will, inevitably, leak out."

"Yes," Okada confirmed. "Already has, in fact."

"Then I guess technically the principal is holding to the agreement. And technically it could be anyone who's going to put the principal's car in the trash compactor later today."

Okada let out a chuckle while the others exchanged uneasy looks.

"Anyway, academics and esper level aren't entirely separate matters. You're, what, low, middle and upper range Level 3?" I pointed to each of them in turn, Kiyabu, Shiba and Okada. "That means that the ceiling of your mathematical processing capacity is well beyond baseline humanity and above any computer you'll find outside of Academy City."

"But that doesn't mean we all get eidetic memory or otherwise enhanced mental abilities that would make it 'not a fair comparison'." Okada's eyes narrowed. "Not with the standard ability development curriculum, anyway."

"No," I shook my head, "it's not a matter of getting some special procedure done either."

"So, what you're saying is that you're simply built differently? That…"

Okada grimaced, clearly finding that hard to accept. Which was quite understandable.

Kiyabu however, his glasses gleaming more intensely than ever, gave me a shrewd look. "But there are ways to roll the dice, aren't there? And ways to build on what you have, just like regular power development?"

Both Okada's and Shiba's heads whipped around before turning to pierce me with their own stares.

I hesitated. Despite considerable effort invested I still wasn't significantly closer to understanding the phenomenon that allowed me to elevate my thinking to an entirely new dimension under the right conditions and within a broad but not completely universal domain.

There were aspects of quantum computing there, of higher dimensional holographic projection, and of atemporal processing. But it wasn't strictly any of these things, or at least not purely those things.

And it wasn't necessarily something linked to my Personal Reality either, like I suspected my impossible physique was. Because Nunotaba, within a more limited domain, exhibited similar capabilities. And she wasn't the only one.

Details were sparse, probably to avoid their precious research subjects being abducted, but there were others. Many of them with one or more of the classical savant abilities, but without the disabilities that usually came with those. But extended spectrum hypercognition beyond the mathematical abilities all espers shared was a known phenomenon, though none of the examples were as broad in applicability as mine.

Many of the more impressive cases from the last century, now declassified, bore the name Kihara. Which was not a pleasant thought, given what I knew of Gensei and Amata.

But to intentionally induce such an ability? That was still terra incognita, probably piled high with the corpses of the unsuccessful subjects. It had been largely abandoned as unprofitable, considering that Academy City got enough applicants to just skim off the one in a thousand with the predisposition to develop such abilities through the standard curriculum.

On the other hand, I knew that before that fateful day in January mine was the more conventional sort of far outlier intelligence. So it probably wasn't impossible. Maybe something about the superposition of memory and thought patterns?

What if I looked not just at my own brain but also at Nunotaba's? And then used Kinuhata's and maybe another Dark May survivor as a comparison while Okada and the others served as the control group? And there was also the growing mental software development kit we were still building up.

If it was a matter of natural predisposition catalyzed through the ability development curriculum that led to extended spectrum hypercognition, maybe a software patch or literal patch of cultured tissue could add more 'talents' to be activated?

~~Volunteers were the best subjects for potentially lethal experiments.~~

Now that they had, metaphorically, tasted blood they would be easily swayed by any number of dubious actors. And while I considered the notion of 'school pride' laughable, they were, technically, fellow Nagatenjouki students. Better that I keep on top of this. I could always just stop at merely optimizing their nootropic regimens.

And I kind of wanted to have a closer look at their abilities, too.

"That's a matter of classified research," I finally said. "But I might be able to pull some strings. There would be comprehensive NDAs, of course."

"Of course," Okada said smoothly, his tone and body language somehow turning it into a done deal. "We know how it goes."

His two rivals slash co-conspirators nodded as well.

"'Are these friends of yours from school,' asks Misaka as she interjects herself into the conversation, happy that Accelerator is expanding his social circle."

Misaka One and Misaka Seven, dressed in matching red and blue sundresses, approached the table. Seven seemed a bit hesitant at the sight of unfamiliar people but One, with a quick side glance to Shiba, marched straight up to stand beside me and her sister followed.

There was a round of uncomfortable looks between us, recalling our initial confrontation, before the comforting automatism of manners kicked in and, after a quick electromagnetic exchange, I introduced the sisters and the academic trio to one another.

"Misaka… would that be the same Misaka as Tokiwadai's Railgun?"

Trust the psychometric to pick up on that immediately despite the way I was shielding them with my own ability.

"'Misaka Mikoto is our big sister', says Misaka, explaining our relationship." Misaka Seven flinched slightly as the regard of the three Nagatenjouki students focused on her and moved closer to me as if seeking cover.

"'We're not attending Tokiwadai, though. So there is no need for those sort of looks,' admonishes Misaka, reminding those present that there is more to life than silly school rivalries." Misaka One, well-practiced at smoothing out these sorts of issues, to the rescue.

"Well," I gave the trio a nod. "Shoot me your contacts and I'll be in touch. For now we have some shopping to do."

We parted amicably and it wasn't long before Misaka Seven was happily chattering about the recipes she'd found for the picnic we'd planned and all the various ingredients we'd need to buy.

Unlike the two sisters' however, my ears picked up on the words exchanged between the academic trio as they themselves departed.

"Did you see that, Okada? How closely they were standing together, their microexpressions?" Kiyabu sighed dreamily. "Twins, Okada, twins."

"Yes, I saw. I wonder if that's also an ability that you can develop with the right curriculum?"

There was the sound of two simultaneous dope-slaps and complaints in similar unison as Shiba 'corrected' their attitude. But I doubted she'd gotten rid of the misunderstanding.

Fuck me. If that sort of rumor began to spread then Mikoto would one hundred percent straight up kill me.

December seems to be omake month. It started with an idea of how the previous reader omake could have come to pass, then an idea for a humorous misunderstanding, and then I got to rambling.

I think I may have inadvertently buried or killed off most of the humor in the process. Still, I'll leave it as is for now. Not quite a full chapter, especially since it's place in the chronology is a bit fuzzy, but at least I wasn't completely useless this month.

Probably should have expected that last omake to be a bit divisive, too. Oh well.

Anyway, best wishes for a happy New Year, everyone.

Edit: I expanded a bit on the characters PinkShadowReader introduced. Here my notes:

Shiba Akira. Sporty, red hair. Level 3 Ectoplasmic Force (manifests and controls a substance that can switch between gaseous, liquid, solid, and immaterial; uses it to reinforce her body).

Kiyabu Sora. Lanky, glasses, shrewd. Level 3 Psychometry Lens (psychometry that grows stronger the more he imbues his power into one lens; uses his glasses and strengthens them continuously).

Okada Shuichi. Chubby, black hair in a bowl cut, sharp eyes. Level 3 Anagogic Psychokinesis (manifests 'echoes' of objects and forces such as walking in the air on an echo of the ground or smashing someone with an echo of a wall).

One-Way Road - Accelerator SI vs. the Toaru-verse Black Phoenix - A Harry Potter OC SI via Waifu Catalogue

The Pendragon Contingency - Warhammer 40K SI as DAoT!Arthur Pendragon Cosmic's dreams of distant worlds - Snippet archive

One-Way Road 22 - Poltergeist

The walls were shaking. Everything was shaking and there was nothing I could do about it. Sunk deep into the sea of quantum uncertainty and perspectives closer to fantasy than material reality, I was only dimly aware of the vibrations that set the painted metal walls of the isolation ward to ringing like a bell. And if the many layers of dampening technology could not stop it, then the delicate technology of the life support pods was likely in an even worse state.

Raised voices went back and forth behind my back. Dr. Kiyama was demanding answers in a sharp tone just barely short of panic. The Heaven Canceller gave instructions with the familiar calm and measured demeanor of a veteran doctor managing the third life or death situation of the day. Assisting both was Nunotaba Shinobu, speaking with the machine-like precision that she fell into in moments of extreme focus.

I had to trust that they would find a solution on their own.

Because my hands and power were the only thing keeping the fragile little light that they were cradling between them alive.

That little defiant star was all alone in the dark sea of possibilities and against the forces raging through that realm. Distortions lapped at it like waves whipped into a fury by a storm and something was weighing it down like anchor chains trying to drag it to a watery grave.

I didn't even understand what exactly it was I was doing. To say that this place, or rather this perspective on reality, still held many mysteries for me was an understatement. It felt more like some psychedelic out-of-body trip than any kind of controlled vector field analysis, even one extending into imaginary space.

Was I holding a candle flame above water? Was I shielding a fragile globe of glass against the vibrations that would shake it apart? Was I letting my own strength imbue a living thing like a blood transfusion? Too much metaphor, not enough mathematics. But it was too late to take back that intuitive leap of faith and change my approach. What I did know was that just holding on took all of my strength and attention.

Back in four-dimensional reality voices rose and fell. Vital sign alarms beeped. Auto-injectors hissed. The Testament helmet's humming rose to a pitch.

Slowly, slowly the chaos subsided. Enough to eventually let go of that little star and draw back to where it was but one of many in the night sky. Letting go of that perspective like uncrossing my inner eyes I allowed the Heaven Canceller's special treatment ward number three to come back into focus.

The large room looked as if it had been hit by an earthquake. Nurses were still hooking up some of the other coma patients to replacement machines. But none of them had been injured, it appeared. And young Edasaki Banri, whose head I was holding between my pale hands, was alive and well, if no less unconscious than before.

Our first attempt to wake one of Dr. Kiyama's students from their coma caused by Kihara Gensei's Ability Body Crystal induced Explosive Uncontrollable Ability Expression Experiment had just barely avoided catastrophic failure.

Good. I breathed a sigh of relief. Then I stumbled, my legs suddenly noodly and weak. If not for Nunotaba steadying me I would have fallen. Darkness crept around the edges of my vision, held at bay through pure will against the wave of exhaustion that crested over me.

"Psychokinetic fatigue." At my incredulous look the Heaven Canceller elaborated. "Also called cumulative ability exertion strain. A good night's sleep and you should be quite alright again."

"I'm well aware of the phenomenon." I shook my head. "Just… it hasn't been an issue for me before. Not ever."

"Then maybe you have never pushed past the limits of your capabilities before." The Heaven Canceller seemed pensive. "The majority of studies have been done on lower-leveled espers. There are rumors that an experiment was attempted with the Sixth Ranked, but, well, he got his moniker of Dark Sides's Bane around that time and there's no one left to ask about the outcome."

Already energy was returning to my limbs and my thoughts were sharpening. Give me ten minutes and I'd be good as new. But the fact that it was possible at all for me to deplete my strength was concerning.

Just what was it that I had done that had taxed me so? In addition to frying all the IDF scanners and causing strange hallucinations in several of the nurses that came too close to me during the event?

"More importantly," Dr. Kiyama cut in impatiently, "we're still not any closer to figuring out what went wrong with the attempt. And the data track you marked as primary is completely unreadable."

That figured. Since mathematics seemed inadequate to modeling my experience, obviously none of our established algorithms would get anywhere. But thinking of that feeling, like chains weighing on Edasaki Banri's ability expression and trying to drag her down, I had an idea.

"IDF resonance." I brought up the relevant data tracks from the eleven other students, then superimposed my own memory. "Or perhaps entanglement would be the better term. The instruments still aren't sensitive enough to resolve it, but if you look at the non-normalized noise amplitude data from before everything went to hell…"

"They're congruent." Kiyama noted it at a glance. "Perhaps in lockstep, even. You're saying, we'd have to wake them all up at the same time? Otherwise, what, the ones that remain comatose 'weigh down' the intervention patient?"

Keys clattered as Nunotaba brought up more displays on the display on the table around which we sat. "That matches the trajectory of abnormalities on the monitors before the psychokinetic, um, event disconnected the other patients."

"Mmh. Mmh." The Heaven Canceller stroked his chin deep in thought. "If there is a chance of such an event occurring again, then we'll need to transfer our young patients to a different facility. But," he added, a smile spreading on his broad face, "on the positive side, I think I already know how to refine the neuropharmaceutical intervention aspect. We may not have succeeded today, but we are one step closer to a solution."

My two colleagues each had their approach to the problem, leveraging their respective areas of expertise. In the case of the Heaven Canceller that was pharmaceutical treatment by means of very carefully calibrated neuroleptics and selective psychotropics. Along with the not inconsiderable burden of managing the patients' strained physiology and keeping them alive through the whole process.

Dr. Kiyama on the other hand, as befit an expert in the phenomenon, was working on a two-pronged strategy in manipulating her old students' IPD diffusion fields. With her toolkit expanded by the technology Nunotaba and I had reverse engineered from the Deus Ex Mechanicus tech, she was attempting to formulate an adaptive synesthetic cognitive interference treatment for their persistent anomalous RSPK syndrome.

Simultaneously we were investigating the nature of liquid 'Esper Essence' that was slowly building up in the students' bodies even after I had previously drained the substance. Since the explosive uncontrolled ability expression had been triggered by a formulation involving Ability Body Crystal, we were looking into the possibility of reversing that influence in a manner similar to pharmaceutical antagonization or wavelength interference noise canceling.

And while I worked with both of them on these more conventional measures, and not just as a convenient high-capability simulation supercomputer, I had my own slightly more esoteric attack vector: Their personal realities themselves.

The way it was taught to students in the ability development curriculum, the concept of personal reality was a matter of individual psychology, of perception and thought process. Altered mind states induced by drugs, hypnosis, and in the latest generation of espers via Testament neuro-remodeling gave rise to a unique and deeply personal way of perceiving the world. A mode of perception that, rather than apprehending the truth of physical reality, affected the truth through means that were still ill-understood but theorized to be rooted in the observer effect of quantum physics.

But from my personal experience I had developed a more literal interpretation.

When opposing esper powers clashed with one another directly, it wasn't a matter of playing tug of war over individual particles. There were factors at play that went deeper and beyond opposing energies exerted and the skill and precision that directed them through applied mathematics. Willpower, emotion, resolve, guts. You'd not be wrong to name it any of those things. But ultimately those were merely fuel for an esper's personal reality.

Far from being merely a psychological trick to focus the physics distorting power of the human mind, at some point the lens through which you saw reality became something more than a notional existence. An actual reality all of its own, existing somewhere beyond the reach of current scientific instruments.

I had felt it many times. The clash of opposing conceptions of reality, the friction between divergent laws of physics, and ultimately my reality relentlessly crushing both regular physics and the feeble soap bubbles of other physics distorting domains.

And that was before I'd learnt to directly perceive and even, earlier today in a moment of crisis, affect those ethereal radiant bodies.

My other memories drew parallels to fictional concepts like the Reality Marbles of Nasuverse fame, the Innate Domain of Jujutsu Kaisen lore or the computational demonology of the Laundry Files. Otherworlds of drastically divergent laws of physics, which when made to supersede common reality enacted seemingly supernatural effects.

Although, come to think of it, that last example didn't quite work. In the Laundry Files the universality of mathematics allowed calculations of the correct algorithms to connect to other universes in an infinite multiverse and make use of the divergent laws of physics and powerful entities thereof. A skilled practitioner would connect to whatever other universes would be useful out of possibly thousands they were aware of and draw them into superposition. That didn't quite match my conception of esper powers.

But, an idea struck me with electrifying force and sidetracked my line of thought, was that how magic worked?

Did the reality distorting effect of normal human sapience, immeasurably small though it was compared to that of an esper, not merely disappear into background noise? Did their imperceptibly weak IPD diffusion fields, when originating from a sufficiently similar perspective due to being modulated by a consistent system of faith, resonate over long distances like those of the Sisters?

And did they then superposition and accumulate, with the intersection of the faith and worldview of a hundred million normal people adding up to the equivalent of a high level esper's personal reality?

It would have to be similar in concept but still very different, because it wouldn't be a personal reality. It wouldn't be something under the control of just one individual, expressing their personal weltanschauung. Rather it would be something like a shared delusion or a communal alternate reality.

If all that was true, then suddenly that two word nonsense explanation of "Idol Theory" that was one of only two things I recalled about the inner workings of magic from my other memories started to make sense.

Similarity in form and ritual were the key, similar to the congruent brain waves induced by the Level Upper, to access that shared divergent reality. Geometrical diagrams, natural language incantations and ritual actions were the method of directing the energies and foreign laws of physics just like mathematical calculations were for espers.

Was that the reason that espers couldn't be magicians without suffering backlash then? A clash between their personal reality and, for example, the Heaven they'd invoke and connect to cast Christian magic?

If so, it might relate to the categorical failure in creating Dual Skill espers of any kind. On the other hand, Dr. Kiyama had gained access to several abilities as a side effect of her Level Upper.

But then, she wasn't an esper, was she? Maybe her creation, for all that it was rooted in esper science, should be considered closer to a magical spell that called upon several divergent realities than a scientific esper ability?

I broke off that line of thought before it could spiral into arbitrary taxonomic nonsense. There was no reason the scientific method should not apply to magic. And step one would be to see if I could confirm my theory by applying my technique for perceiving IDF and personal reality to the samples of active magic I had captured from the machine cult.

"I'm trying again."

Lightning sparked around Mikoto as she brought her ability to bear. Large arcs all around at first, then smaller ones focused around her arms at steadily increasing frequency.

Sticking to Tokiwadai's uniform regulations for once but with a sleek black visor to protect her eyes, she could have passed for one of the Sisters wearing a new model of electron goggles. To someone who didn't know her as well as I did, anyway. Even without my IDF perception I'd never confuse one of the Misaka I knew for another, and least of all Mikoto herself.

Crackling soon gave way to an ominous rising whine. "Hyperion Cannon charging. Sixty percent. Seventy percent…" Mikoto smiled broadly as she pronounced the words underlaid with a metallic buzz, echoing an iconic scene from Starfire Sentinels: Photon Protocol.

I couldn't help but mirror her. This dramatic charge up sequence wasn't strictly speaking necessary, of course. But it was fun.

Normally giant robots weren't my favorite genre, but Mikoto had mentioned Starfire Sentinels and so I'd given it a chance. The series just barely escaped being corny, saved by the self-aware remix of old themes, but it was a very well executed mixture of action, drama and levity. Plus, they clearly had an Academy City robotics engineer involved in the designs, because I could easily see how some of the tech might actually work.

Most of all I'd been happy to see Mikoto's enthusiasm as she concocted wild scenarios of how things might go in the season to come. And that she felt comfortable sharing with me one of her hobbies that had seen her teased by her Tokiwadai seniors before.

With an effort of will I wrenched my gaze away from her and toward the expression of her ability. Lately I had caught myself looking at her more than was strictly appropriate. Damn teenage hormones. Unless I suppressed them like the Accelerator of that other timeline or was willing to go deep into mental self-modification the effects were a curse unavoidable even for me, it seemed. But I absolutely would not allow myself to make someone as important to me as Mikoto uncomfortable in any way.

"Luminar Knight, you're cleared for fire."

The complex arrangement of electromagnetic fields Mikoto had conjured around her arms stretched out in parallel in front of her snapped into even tighter focus. With a shout of effort the electron beam between them accelerated explosively before hitting the undulator construct.

Light flared brilliantly between Mikoto's gloved hands. Undirected and noisy at first but converging towards coherency in under a second. The paper target at the other hand of the room burst into flames.

Electromagnetic radiation above microwaves in frequency was something that Mikoto still had trouble with. There was no clearly identifiable reason for it since the calculations she used for her radar, for example, should work just as well with a greater frequency variable. But as she neared the visible spectrum the electromagnetic waves somehow became 'slippery' to her. She just couldn't get a good 'grip' on them, as she said.

That's why we were playing around with the principle of a free electron laser. Wriggling relativistic electrons to shake coherent light out of them. Together with visualization exercises, synesthetic immersion, and trance state mental engineering, we theorized that this would allow her to 'build a bridge', so to speak, into full spectrum EM wave manipulation.

Would that actually expand her personal reality or just remove an internal barrier, like a mental block, that prevented her from accessing a part of it? I couldn't wait to find out.

Plus, you know, Mikoto would have the ability to shoot lasers. Which was always nice. Although, this being reality, until she learned to control light to such a degree that eye injuries from laser backscatter wasn't a problem anymore safety goggles were an absolute must.

"Huuuuu." Mikoto allowed her ability expression to wind down in a controlled manner, tired but beaming at what she had achieved.

"Brilliantly done!" Her happiness was infectious and I set aside the rotating data block in my mind for later analysis. "That's three for three, and the revised scheme yielded even better coherency."

"It still takes far too long to set up," Mikoto complained.

"You'll get it down to fractions of a second soon enough, same as your railgun." There was absolutely no doubt in my mind as to her capabilities or her work ethic. "Come the System Scan next week you'll completely knock their socks off!"

Mikoto smiled, blushing slightly at the declaration of confidence and fidgeting a little with her protective gloves. For some reason she seemed to have gotten worse at taking compliments since coming back from Russia. Perhaps it was the perceived failure that made the normally so confident Mikoto more insecure?

I started to move but stopped myself. No. Better that I talk with Misaka One if that was the case. No matter how much I wanted to hug her and hope that could make it better, outside an extreme situation and with the two of us alone like this Mikoto would absolutely not appreciate that.

Grasping blindly for something appropriate to say I fell back on my earlier observation. "You know, with the visor you look -"

"A lot like my younger sisters? Well, obviously! But if you ever confuse me for one of them…" Mikoto trailed off ominously.

"Never," I affirmed. "You are the one and only inimitable Misaka Mikoto." One would have to be blind not to see certain differences between them, but that too was not appropriate to say.

"Well. Good." Mikoto huffed, seemingly pleased at that. She turned away to put the protective gloves away in her bag, turning her back for a moment. After a moment she closed the clasp with a decisive snap and turned back around. "Can you take a photo? I want to send one to the Sisters. They'll get a kick out of that."

"And probably whine at me to speed up production of the new visor model so they can match their Big Sis," I grumbled. But it was just for show.

Mikoto schooled her face into a stoic expression and brought her hand up in the military salute that Misaka 103 and 104 had adopted. Then she mimed holding a gun and holding a martial arts pose in turn, imitating Misaka 13 and 404 in turn. Apart from the deepening blush, with the visor concealing her eyes the resemblance was quite as strong as expected.

Snapping a quick couple of photos I sent them to Mikoto.

Her phone croaked like a frog and Mikoto doffed the visor and flipped it open. "Let's see…"

"So," I teased, "are you going to title it 'Misaka Prime' or 'Misaka Senior' or…"

"I'll show you 'senior citizen', you!" Mikoto flared up in mock outrage.

"No," I waved my hands, "I meant -"

"I know." She laughed. "But Thirty-Two, that brat, would inevitably start calling me Granny Misaka if I did something like that." Mikoto shook herself in demonstrative revulsion.

"Kuroko has been a bit strange these last couple of days," Mikoto mused as we walked to the bus station together. "Subdued, somehow. Or as if she had suddenly learned about the concept of personal space." She chuckled. "Personal space, maybe that's the thing? When distance doesn't matter at all to them, maybe that's a difficult idea for teleporters to understand."

"Mmh," I hummed. "Maybe you finally got through to her, that you don't share that particular sense of humor." I shrugged. "Or maybe she had her booster regimen looked at. I know that having mine overhauled made a significant difference for my peace of mind. A bit of mania is a common side effect."

"I didn't notice anything different about hers. But then I don't make a habit of going through her things," Mikoto added with a bit of exasperation. Then she tilted her head curiously. "I thought you didn't have a companion institution to take care of that sort of thing, though?"

"The doctor overseeing the Sisters' adjustments, the one they call the Heaven Canceler, is one of the top experts in the field," I stated truthfully if somewhat evasively. "And more importantly," I continued, giving her a serious look, "he is one of the few in this city who is completely trustworthy."

"Maybe I should schedule something," Mikoto mused. "As their next of kin I probably should know more about what they're going through."

The bus arrived with the barely audible whine of electromotors. While for me it was right back to the lab, Mikoto had more activities planned for today.

"Time to meet that new friend of Uiharu's." She chuckled and continued jokingly: "I'm not sure what they have planned, but if we end up in jail - or worse, in romance movie hell - you'll bail me out, right?"

"Always."

Baldur's Gate 3 continues to eat most of my time, but I did manage something small to start off the next arc.

Not sure about some of this. I had some trouble finding a good entry point so when the ideas did come I didn't question them overly much.

But I'm very happy to finally get to some of the deeper mechanics I've been using (Accelerator's musings on magic were something I wrote back in August, I think?). Hopefully they're not entirely incompatible with any later NT/GT revelations I might not be fully familiar with.

And for everyone who screamed 'kiss already' on the previous (regular) chapter, well, that's meant to be the B story for this arc. So bear with me a little bit longer

One-Way Road - Accelerator SI vs. the Toaru-verse Black Phoenix - A Harry Potter OC SI via Waifu Catalogue

The Pendragon Contingency - Warhammer 40K SI as DAoT!Arthur Pendragon Cosmic's dreams of distant worlds - Snippet archive