Brockton's Celestial Forge

by Lord Roustabout

The Celestial Forge is the greatest combination of crafting powers in Jumpchain, meaning it is the greatest combination of crafting abilities in all of fiction. In Brockton Bay a forgotten side character's trigger event ends with him linked to the Celestial Forge rather than his intended shard. His expanding collection of tinker abilities drag him into the city's cape conflicts.

38. 32 Family Fugue - Pre Taylor - Add Mike

(Author's Note: I have a busy time coming up so I will be taking next week off my update schedule. The next chapter will be out in two weeks.)

Preamble Taylor

Taylor sat with her father in the living room. Well, actually Taylor lounged on the sofa bed while her father sat nearby. Since Saturday night he had been treating her like she was made of glass. It was a kind of anxious doting she hadn't seen since the aftermath of the locker, and then he'd been so embroiled with legal battles that she'd barely seen him.

It was sort of nice, if frustrating. The inconsistent attention from her father was probably worse than being either smothered or ignored. It highlighted the worst thing about their situation, the fact that her father wanted to make thing better, but didn't know how. He was alternating between trying to help, giving her space, or just being at a loss for what to do.

That was the hardest part. The knowledge that her father didn't have a solution for any of this. He was trying, and she loved him for it, but that wouldn't fix her problems.

Well, it wouldn't have fixed her problems when they were limited to Winslow, the trio, and the general shittyness of her school and personal life. Since then her problems had become considerably more impressive. The news report that caused her father to rapidly change the channel was an example of that. He might be trying to shield her from the chaos in the city, but she knew she'd have to deal with it at some point, and it wasn't something he could help with.

Even so, it would be a lie to say she didn't appreciate what he'd been doing so far. Doing everything he could to make sure she was comfortable, catering to her, even cutting back on his office hours to spend as much of the day with her as he could manage, and that was after she assured him she didn't need him to stay home all day.

Right now they were working through an old fantasy movie they had found on a cable channel half way through its run. Taylor had a bowl of popcorn on the edge of the sofa bed, positioned so her father could snag a few kernels every now and then. The remnants of dinner had been cleared away and Taylor was wondering if she wanted to move back to her bedroom or just drift off here.

The recovery from her 'concussion' was on track. The worst of the dizziness had vanished after a night's rest, and was barely a factor anymore. What did remain was more of a side effect of the other consequence of that bomb.

She closed her eyes and reached out to her swarm, feeling the difference in the connection. There was no change in her range or the level of her control. Instead there was a kind of resonance between the scattered bugs. The sensory data that she usually filtered out had been leaking through.

When she first realized it she had panicked. She nearly called Lisa on the spot, but after digging through every internet resource she had found on corona pollentias and realizing her other powers weren't affected she had calmed down. Even now she could pick up snippets of sound from the houses around them, the indistinct murmur of people talking or other television sets. It wasn't clear enough for her to pick out words, but she was pretty sure the Cohens at the end of the block were watching the same movie as her and her dad, just from the way the sound picked up and dropped off.

Even if she never got to the level of actually being able to hear through her bugs, just being able to detect when people were talking was huge. It was more situational awareness than she had before, and a big step forward with her powers that she was personally proud of.

That situational awareness detected the car pulling onto their street and slowing to a stop in front of their house. When the door opened she could immediately recognize the girl walking towards their front door.

She frowned internally, but showed no reaction as she watched the person approach their porch. Her father looked up as the step squeaked, followed by a polite knock at the front door.

Her father was already rising when he heard the step and gave her a concerned look that evaporated as he checked the porch window. Quickly he moved to open the door.

"Hello Lisa."

The blond girl smiled back at him. "Hello Mr. Hebert. I'm sorry for dropping in like this…"

"Not at all." Her father assured Lisa. "We just finished dinner. Can I get you anything?"

"No, I'm fine. I was just passing by and had a message for Taylor. I thought I'd drop by and see her in person."

Taylor felt her uneasiness build as Lisa smiled at her father.

"Well, it's nice to see you again. I hope nothing's wrong?" Her father stepped back to let the blond girl into the house.

"Nothing like that." Lisa replied in a sweet voice. "My papa just wanted Taylor to come by tomorrow for a checkup."

Taylor's stomach roiled. Lisa's papa had been cover for the black market doctor who gave them a clear bill of health, well all except Taylor who got a giant question mark. Whatever Lisa wanted it wasn't a medical checkup, and she had just blatantly lied to her father to cover for it.

Her father nodded. "That's very considerate of him. What do I…"

"Mr. Hebert, I told you he wouldn't charge, not for this. It's just a quick in and out to make sure things are alright." Taylor noticed Lisa send her a pleading glance and cursed herself for getting into this situation. She swallowed before speaking up.

"That's fine." She announced with confidence she didn't feel. "It'll be good to get out of the house."

"Sweetie, are you sure you're up for it?" Behind her father's back Lisa's pleading look intensified.

"Absolutely." She assured him, burying her concerns. "It's just a doctor's visit."

It wouldn't be a doctor's visit. Lisa was putting on a show for her father, but something was really bothering the girl. Something serious enough that she had to show up in person and basically lock Taylor into this course of action.

Something that she wasn't going to leave until tomorrow. If there was some disaster brewing Lisa could at least let her know what was happening.

She pushed aside the bowl of popcorn and climbed to her feet. "I think I'm going to head upstairs. Is it okay if I talk with Lisa for a bit before bed?"

"Of course." Her father assured her. "Are you sure I can't get you girls anything?"

"We're fine." She answered as she moved towards the stairs.

"Thank you Mr. Hebert." Lisa assured him.

"Okay, let me know if you need anything." He called after them.

Taylor resisted reacting while they climbed the stairs and crossed the hallway to her room. As the door finally shut she spun and glared at Lisa.

"Okay, what the hell is going on." She growled, showing more intensity than she meant. Once again, she was struck by just how hopeless the attempts to keep her cape and normal lives separate actually were.

Lisa's reaction softened her anger. The girl was clearly worried. She didn't completely trust her assessments of the thinker, but this seemed genuine. "It's Joe." She answered.

"What about Joe? What's happening?" She asked as quickly as she could manage.

"Did you see the news today?" Lisa asked while fishing out a smartphone.

"Just a bit." She confessed. "My dad's been trying to keep me from stressful stuff. I've been following stuff online, but I haven't had a chance to check tonight."

Instead of answering Lisa began playing a video on her phone. It began with Uber and Leet's broadcast, then a clip from the protectorate press conference, then assembled cell phone and security camera footage from downtown, including an entire building just vanishing in a column of flame after one of Joe's robots flew into it. Then a news clip about the ABB financial seizures.

By the time Lisa ran out of clips Taylor was leaning into her swarm to distract herself from the weight on her mind.

"He only had one of those robots on Saturday, and it was nothing like that powerful." Her voice sounded hollow as she spoke. This had implications she'd been trying to avoid thinking about.

"It's worse than you think." Lisa whispered in a warning tone.

"What?" Of all the things she expected to come out of the girl's mouth after watching that video, that was about the least likely. "How can it be worse?"

"Joe called me afterwards." The girl swallowed. "All that stuff was apparently spur of the moment, like not even thought out. He called the finance raid a target of opportunity."

"Wait," Taylor held up her hands. "All that and he didn't care? It was nothing? He was just okay with it?"

"No, he was freaked, just not about the attack." Lisa's face was grave.

"What?" Taylor felt like that was becoming a refrain in this conversation. "What was he worried about?"

"March, the ABB thinker? He found out about her during the press conference, and apparently his thinker power started going nuts. He was ready to go on a warpath." Lisa explained in a low voice.

Taylor thought back to the broadcast. "Isn't he on one already?" This was insane. Were the Undersiders going to get pulled into this? It seemed like something they should help with, but at the same time felt totally out of their league. Things kept escalating, and she hated it.

"No, he wasn't. That was nothing. He went out with what he had on hand. I spoke with him right before the attack. He didn't have anything planned before whatever it was that set that off." She frowned deeply. "From what I can tell, for Joe that was the equivalent of an enthusiastic walk."

"What do you mean?" She thought back to the video. "You said he's getting more powerful. We can see it. What else is there?"

Lisa sagged and suddenly Taylor could see every minute of the days of exhaustion she'd been under. It had been there on Saturday night, but the Thinker had been able to play it off. Now, even after the intensity of Joe's healing she could see the toll this was taking on the girl.

"Joe has been holding back. Massively. I don't think I realized how much until tonight." She swallowed nervously. "There was something about March, it's related to the new Ward, Flechette, and it's got him freaked out. He was ready to pull out the stops."

"What kind of stops?" Taylor grit her teeth. She didn't need this, not at this time of night, not after everything. The two days of rest she'd gotten suddenly seemed like they weren't nearly enough, not when something like this was waiting for her.

Lisa sighed, a strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail falling limply across her face. "Best guess is the kind of stuff that would set off national alarm bells with the PRT. Robot armies, self-replicating anything, proper mecha, not that stuff Uber and Leet threw together." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm pretty sure that red boosting thing at the end was some kind of lifeform. The lines were moving, just a little bit, but it was enough to pick up a pattern. He might be wet tinkering, and that is not something we can deal with right now."

Taylor's eyes widened. "Is March really that bad?"

Lisa scrunched her forehead. "I don't know. She spoofs every thinker who tries to read her. Maybe he's right, but more likely he'd gotten a false positive and is about to take a nuclear option over it."

That though did nothing to settle Taylor's nerves. "Why are you telling me? What am I supposed to do about it?"

A horrible shadow emerged from her memories, Alec's jokes about her and Joe. What was Lisa getting at with this?

Lisa gave her a serious look. "You've seen the stuff about Apeiron and Khepri online? And in the news reports?"

Taylor nodded grimly. Oh, she'd seen it. Online, news reports, in the paper, and not just letters to the editor. She'd seen the depth of that speculation. The 'fans' that had built up. The badly edited cape music videos.

She couldn't believe they'd pulled together enough footage to make a single CMV, much less a series. Dear God but she hated Youtube.

A horrible thought entered her mind. Was that what Lisa was getting at? She had been so sure before, so certain that it had been something else, but she'd been wrong about so much. Was this another of those points? Taylor's mind flew in wild directions as she desperately tried to piece together what Lisa was asking her to do.

"Joe, he feels…" Taylor felt her entire body tense like a coiled spring. "…terrible about that misconception."

Taylor swore she could feel her brain disconnect from her body, drawn away by the disorienting intensity of sheer relief the statement induced. She tried to reply, but the best she could manage was a mumbled. "Uh-huh."

"He wants to clear the air, apologize, probably try to make it up to you, fix it if he can." Lisa explained. "He's willing to put off the March crusade until after he deals with that."

Taylor was able to get her mouth working again. "That's more important to him than… what, robot armies?" She whispered the last word.

Lisa nodded. "Best I can tell, it's something personal for him. I think he's messed up like this before. He really wants to make this right. You need to speak with him."

Taylor felt her guts wrench. "What the hell am I supposed to say?"

The blond girl sighed. "At this point, anything that holds off a state of emergency would be a win. Things are going to get messy. We have our team meeting with him on Wednesday. You need to speak with him tomorrow. Reassure him, talk him down, or just distract him. Really anything that keeps him from any more escalation."

Escalation. Taylor was starting to detest that word.

She sighed. "I'm not good at this, you know. I don't know what you expect me to accomplish here."

Lisa smiled slightly. "Joe will probably be as awkward as you, and he's the one who's trying to make things better. Even if all you talk about is that misconception, it will be enough. I'll try to come up with a strategy for Wednesday." She gave Taylor a reassuring look. "We can make this work."

Taylor wished she had the girl's confidence. "Fine." She said in defeat. "Where am I supposed to meet him?"

Lisa handed over a slip of paper. "Here's his number. Call him tomorrow and suggest somewhere you feel comfortable. Somewhere that can't be construed as a date. That should make it easier for both of you. I can meet you beforehand, try to get you set up and ready for this." She saw Taylor's expression and put on a brave front. "Taylor, it'll be fine. You can handle this, and we'll manage things."

Sure, she just had to talk down the strongest tinker in the city, who was breaking out tactical weapons and had even worse stuff in reserve, a tinker who was only on the wrong side of the law because of her undercover work, which had turned into an absolute quagmire.

Still, what else could she do? It was her mess, and she had to keep moving if she was going to find any way out of it.

"Alright. I'll come up with something." This might be the first time she had called a boy, and weirdly it would be to confirm that they weren't in a relationship. Given how upside down her life was feeling that seemed somehow appropriate.

Lisa visibly relaxed at her words. "Thank you Taylor." She pocketed her phone. "I'll check in with you tomorrow. Hopefully Joe won't be messing with anything stupid or dangerous in the meantime."

Well, Taylor thought, they could only hope.

Celestial Forge 32 Family Fugue

The phone kept ringing. I could easily use my technical skills to keep it from going to voicemail, but if she hung up on her end my only options would be to deal with the fallout or call her back. I didn't know which option I found less appealing.

Garment was visibly worried at my response. She seemed to be trying to communicate the desire for more information. Unfortunately I couldn't give it to her, not in the time I had.

"Please." I asked. "Just let me take this." The idea of dealing with this call in front of an audience twisted my stomach.

Garment looked ready to protest, but there must have been something in my stance or expression that convinced her. She took a moment to make a gesture of reassurance before reluctantly edging out the door and back towards the hideaway house.

I closed the door, took a breath, and connected the call. I wasn't letting this anyway near my implant. This would be trying enough without being beamed into my brain. I set the call to be routed through the omni-tool in my watch. Then I dove in before I could overthink this anymore.

"Hello?" My voice was as steady as I could make it, and a good deal calmer than the voice that answered.

"Jozef? Thank God, what the hell have you been doing?"

The familiar voice was more frustrated than concerned. Actually, pretty much entirely frustrated. It really put the call into context. It made sense that THAT would be the reason Alena would reach out.

I mean, what was I expecting? Oh, hi Alena. How's the new job going? I'm fine. So nice of you to check in without anyone putting you up to it.

Instead of going with that quip I steeled myself. Sarcasm wouldn't be helpful right now. "Hello Alena. And what do you mean?"

My innocent act would obviously not convince her, but it was the best opening I could come up with.

"Jozef, this isn't the time for that crap." She actually sounded a little tired. I wondered how much family fallout she had to deal with before she made this call? "Why the hell have you been ignoring Mom's calls?"

I took another breath. "I haven't been ignoring them." There was a moment where it sounded like she was going to contradict me, so I cut in before she could. "I blocked her."

"Blocked her?" There was the offended tone. "Of course you would do that." She muttered.

"So," I tried. "I'm guessing Mom asked you to call me?"

"Of course she did," She answered indignantly. "because she actually cares about you. You're in the middle of a terrorist attack and you didn't even check in to let her know you were alive."

I gritted my teeth and swallowed my frustration. Through my implant I could feel a presently unwelcome inquiry from Survey regarding my personal health and mental state. "Alena, the city isn't exploding around us. It's not a warzone. People are actually living here." And it's not like Brockton doesn't see this kind of stuff regularly, just at lower levels.

"You could have at least called. You know how much she worries about you. That should be more important than sulking in your apartment." That came across more as venting of frustration than any kind sincere concern, or even a personal attack.

"I'm not going to do that." I forced myself to remain calm, but whatever internal effects that was having triggered another inquiry from Survey. "Not after what happened."

"Right, because that's what all this is about." She scoffed. "You need to stop overreacting and think of someone other than yourself. God, you always do this."

I took another breath and spoke slowly in my response. "Do you even know what happened that night?"

"You got some bad news, threw another tantrum, and stormed out." She said with absolute certainty.

I bit down to keep from saying something I'd regret. Survey sent a series of progressively more concerned inquiries and started extrapolating her own data.

I swallowed my own frustration as I watched the A.I. dive into the phone network, extracting telemetry data from cell towers and triangulating the call location. Oh, Alena was calling from her apartment. I guess it was nice that she had decided I at least deserved her full attention instead of rushing this call from the street or something like that.

Survey began digging further, pulling information for Alena and her roommate, work history, utility connections, and delivery records. I had to step in and call her off before she could start trying to access my sister's employment records. At my pleading the A.I. finally withdrew from monitoring the call, but her uneasiness with the situation was obvious.

I could feel my sister's impatience building as the Forge missed a connection to the Time constellation, so I reluctantly dove back into the conversation. "Is that all you heard?" It was getting harder to keep my responses measured.

"No." Her reply was sharp. "I've been dealing with Mom while you've been pulling more of your nonsense. I heard about what happened. You got in another fight with Natalia, got upset when Mom called you out on it, then stormed off when you got the letter."

My stomach churned at her summation of the night. "That's not fair." I worked to keep any hint of petulance out of my voice. "You know how Natalia can get…"

"That doesn't matter." She cut me off. "You're an adult now. You should be able to get through a single night without causing problems for the entire family."

"All I did…" I spoke carefully. "was leave. I didn't say or do anything to anyone." I swallowed as the image of my original passenger flashed into my mind, the one before the Forge. Then I struggled to push aside the memory.

"You think that's an accomplishment?" Yes, I did. But I could tell from her tone that wouldn't be the answer she was looking for. "Jozef, everyone in the family has worked so hard to help you with this thing. It's hard enough without you fighting against them."

"You think…" My voice raised involuntarily and I quickly bit back on it. Anger was coming to the surface. It was harder to control, and felt like a trap. If I got angry they could dismiss my concerns as irrational. Well, dismiss them more easily than they usually did.

"I am working on this." I said as calmly as I could manage. "And I am actually making progress." There was a bit of pride on my last statement. The memory of Dr. Campbell congratulating me for my actions that night, reassurances on my decisions, commitments I'd made to improvement. It was hard, damn hard, but I was moving forward.

"Jozef," The tone of Alena's voice changed completely. Suddenly it came across as completely sympathetic. "Mom knows you got fired."

"What?" I nearly choked on the statement.

"When she couldn't reach you she tried to call you at your job. Your boss told her about firing you." She had shifted from indignant to companionate so fast it was jarring. "I get that you're embarrassed about it, but you can't ignore a problem like this and hope it will go away."

That particular statement hit way closer to home than I thought it would.

"Alena, I didn't get fired. I quit." And I instantly hated myself for feeling compelled to justify myself, something I could tell from her response hadn't made the slightest difference anyway.

"You didn't show up for your shift, it doesn't matter how you try to frame it. Do you even realize how stuff like that looks?" She sighed through the line. Of course that was what she would focus on. My work performance. And apparently an entire narrative had built up among my family and run away from me because I refused to be involved in shaping it.

Okay, THAT hit close to home, though the perception of my cape persona seemed like it should be a bigger issue than what my family thought about me. I just wish that was actually the case. This should be trivial compared to all my other problems, but family had a way of amplifying things.

"Jozef, stop being so stubborn." She pleaded. "You're only making things worse."

"I'm not being…" I cut myself off before I could finish. There was no way to win this conversation… I was going to say 'no way to win by playing by her script', but the truncated version seemed more appropriate. Just 'no way to win this conversation'.

"Look," She continued in a soft voice. "Just call Mom and Dad, explain what happened, and apologize. They want to help you."

My mind screeched to a stop and I leaned forward. My free hand balled into a fist and I rested my knuckles on the office's immaculate desk. I looked down at the active call on my omni-tool in shock. Eventually I managed to put together a response.

"Apologize?" I have no idea how my voice came across. It felt like I was operating my larynx from the other side of the solar system. My head buzzed and I struggled to stay focused.

"It's what normal people do when they make a mistake." The derision was creeping back into her tone. "You SHOULD be able to manage it."

"I am not apologizing." My voice felt robotic as I spoke.

"God, can you try not being blindingly inconsiderate for once in your life?" Her voice was more pleading than derisive as she spoke. "No matter how you feel about this, you really upset Mom. And Dad too. You can at least tell them you're sorry for that."

Right, and then have this lorded over me for the rest of my life. Another sterling example of how Jozef can't…

No. I made a conscious effort to cut off that line of thinking. I knew most of this wasn't even a deliberate attempt by Alena to get to me. It was just how she was. Basically, she was running on auto-pilot. I'd spent too long trying to figure out this mess, to understand these dynamics, to fall apart now.

"Is that what this is about?" I asked. "You want me to call home, explain how I was wrong, and then what? Move back home?"

"Well, what else are you going to do?" Once again the question hit me like a sledgehammer. "You aren't working in the city anymore, and you can't do anything at the University until you get your enrollment fixed. Just go home so Mom can stop worrying about you."

"You mean," I did my best to keep my tone from sounding as harsh as I felt. "So she'll stop bothering you and Natalia about this?"

"That's not fair." She replied.

"But that's it, isn't it?" It didn't escape my notice that Alena had picked a school and then a job that was a thousand miles from Captain's Hill, and Natalia probably would have gone to school on the west coast if she had the grades for the school she wanted. I'm pretty sure they were happy I picked Brockton University just because Mom would have someone closer to home to occupy her attention.

"Do you have any idea how selfish you're being?" Alena countered. "Natalia has finals coming up, as well as her graduation. She's going to be looking for a job soon. And you don't even want to know the hours they have me working here. Neither of us has time to deal with your problems right now."

"So it's easier if I just go home and keep Mom off your backs?" I spat. Control was slipping, but I didn't care as much as I did at the start of the call. Anger was bubbling up, but that was good. Anger meant I could realize this situation was wrong. Anger wasn't that hollow, empty despair that had characterized so many of these conversations over the years.

"Yes, it's SO horrible that I'm asking you to go home to stay with free rent, home cooking, and no bills to worry about." She quipped. "And all I'm asking is for you to actually be considerate for once in your life. Hell, if you wanted to really show some appreciation you could finally clean out your room."

I blinked. "Seriously? You're getting into that now?"

"It's something you should have done years ago." She accused. "It's creepy that you held onto that stuff. Mom would feel better to finally get it out of the house."

"I know." I growled. "She never stops talking about it. And it's not like I show that stuff off to people. Why is this even an issue?"

"Because he's a serial killer!" She shouted.

"He's a victim!" I countered.

"You think that matters to anyone? Just by holding onto it people are going to think you're one of those Slaughterhouse fanboys." That statement was more of an accusation than a warning.

I took a mental step back. Having this argument now would accomplish nothing. My family had wanted me to get rid of my Sphere Moonbase Set from the moment of the Simurgh attack, even before Mannequin was a thing. That was the extent of her influence, everything she touched was suspect.

Rogues don't usually get action figures, but there was a lot of hype around that project. It was after Hero had died, so finding a new 'hopeful' tinker was a big deal. It had taken a Christmas and two birthdays to get the whole thing, including the project plans and the live update access you got if you collected the entire set. It was kind of excessive, but they were funding a space colony with toys. The scale of the set was probably the reason I held onto it into my teenage years.

That meant I actually got immediate notice of things falling apart. That was not a great day for me. Five years ago that dream of tinker space future just came crashing down. Then it was a battle to keep a set of toys that according to my family were both inappropriate and something I was too old for anyway.

Alena's voice interrupted my thoughts. "Look, if you don't call her, Mom will probably just throw it out herself."

The statement brought up so many memories that I actually let out a bark of laughter.

"What? What's so funny?" She asked.

"She's been threatening that since I was sixteen." It was up there with the threats to drop my gaming books off at Goodwill or donate my violin since I 'never use it'.

"You think she won't do it?" My sister's voice sounded confused and a little concerned.

I sighed. "No, she'll do it. And then it will be my fault that she did it. And if I get upset that will be my fault too, since it would be something not worth getting upset about."

"You shouldn't talk about Mom like that." I wasn't really sorry, but that statement was more candid than I usually got. "You know how hard she tries."

Right, because she's the only one who gets graded on effort rather than results. "It doesn't matter. She'll do what she's going to do."

There was a pause before my sister replied. "What's happening? Is there something wrong with you?"

Well, I'm in the middle of a cape war for the fate of the universe. I have at least three different life perspectives bouncing around my head, my mind and body have been seriously altered, and I've just been dragged back into family drama centered on the worst night of my life. Hell, with the path I'm on I'm set to meet Doctor Alan Gramme in person sometime in the near future. Why should I be worried about what happens to his action figures?

I decided to abstain from mentioning any of that and instead asked. "What do you mean?"

"Are you on drugs?" She asked in a flat voice.

"What?" I gasped in reply.

"Is that what this is? Are you taking drugs?"

"What kind of a question is that?" I asked. "You know I am."

There was a pause before she replied. "God, Jozef. Don't scare me like that." She scolded. "I meant real drugs, not your antidepressants."

I sighed and resisted the urge to try to convey the scope of any aspect of what I was dealing with. The Forge missed a connection to the Size constellation as I replied.

"No Alena, I'm not on drugs. 'My antidepressants' don't mix well with other substances. I couldn't even go out drinking when I turned twenty-one. Please trust that I didn't fuck up the only stable treatment I managed through this whole mess with something you know I stay away from."

"Fine." She didn't sound totally convinced, but dropped the subject. "But Mom said you freaked out even though you were on better medication."

"Better?" I made absolutely no effort to keep the derision out of my voice. "What exactly did she tell you?"

There was a pause and I was momentarily concerned she was going to go off about the harshness of my tone instead of answering. Apparently she decided to let that slide when she finally responded.

"She said she finally convinced you to switch to a better medication, but you still went off on everyone."

I took a long slow breath, the anger inside me at a slow boil. I was grateful for it. It wasn't pleasant, especially all the places it grew from, but it was better than the alternative. Better than that horrible feeling of emptiness, of being buried in guilt and shame for your own existence, or questioning your worth as a human being and place in the world.

Anger meant I could tell this wasn't right, wasn't fair. Actually see the holes in the dynamic that was being put forward. It was still unpleasant, but it was a motive force. Something that pushed me forward rather than pulled me back. I held onto it and used it to move forward.

"Alena, are you near a computer you can use?" I knew she was, but I wasn't about to flag that little invasion of privacy.

"Yeah, why?" She asked.

"I would like you to look something up." I responded as calmly as I could.

"What's this about?" she sounded confused. I held back a sigh.

"Can you please just do this?" I asked. "As a favor to me, can you look this up?"

She went quiet at that. Directly asking for something wasn't that common in my family. It was a dynamic I hadn't noticed while I was growing up, not until Dr. Campbell noticed and pointed it out. Generally someone would point out the reasons why you needed to do something, usually with the implication of some personal failing if you didn't follow through. Directly asking for something for yourself was not a common occurrence.

I talked Alena through the web search, finally getting her on the correct site. I followed along with my implant as I talked her through.

"And you see the side effect's tab?" I asked.

"Yeah." There was a pause as I assumed she was reading through it. "Are you saying this is what happened? It was the medication?" She sounded skeptical about it.

"You know my normal medication affected my sleep. This stuff has side effects, and they can get pretty bad." That was an understatement, but I was dancing around how bad things could have gone.

"You're sure about this?" She asked, as if it was something that would escape my notice.

"Yes, I'm sure." I replied in a measured tone. I didn't appreciate the dismissive attitude, but I was used to it.

"Well, why don't you just explain this?" She asked. "If you hadn't stormed out this could all have been avoided. Just call and tell them what happened."

She said it like it was the easiest thing in the world. "Alena, I am not calling home, I am not apologizing, and I am not moving out of the city."

"Damnit Jozef, people are trying to help you. Why do you always have to be like this?" She complained. "What, are you worried Mom and Dad won't forgive you? Come on, you know better than that."

"I don't need their help." That sounded more juvenile than I intended, but I pushed on. "It's been eight months since I moved out. I think I've shown I can actually manage on my own."

"So, what? Are you just going to sulk until you run out of money or get yourself hurt in that mess? Look, at least go home until things settle down." She was beginning to sound desperate. I had to wonder how much pressure had been put on her to make this call.

"I'm not going to run out of money." I countered. "I told you, I wasn't fired. I quit because I had another job lined up."

"Really?" She asked. "What are you doing, exactly?"

Lie by staying close to the truth. "I've been doing odd jobs, mostly repair work and deliveries. A friend of mine is starting up a business soon, so I've been helping with that."

"Friend." She said somewhat skeptically. "And you can get by with that?"

"I'm already good for the rest of the month, and there should be steady work. I'll be fine." I assured her.

"You're really alright with that? Just doing odd jobs?" She asked.

"It's better than retail work." I countered. "More hours and better pay."

"God Jozef, what about school? You're too smart to just give up on that, not after everything Mom and Dad did for you."

Ah, a compliment buried under guilt and derision. Of course, I was only 'smart' when it created an obligation towards something they wanted.

I was managing this better than I thought I would. It was still getting to me, but not as badly as it would have even a week ago. I'd like to think it was because I was making progress, but I had a nagging concern that my mental alteration powers were more of a factor. Or maybe recent events had just forced some perspective.

Or maybe I was just better at being angry. I had seen things over the past few days that would have horrified me without my military mindset holding me together. The families missing loved ones in the wake of the storage yard attack. The casual brutality of the ABB's actions. Michael Won dead and mutilated for the sake of a trading scam.

With all of that behind me and everything mounting in front of me I just couldn't afford to deal with this. I couldn't get caught up in this mess again, where my family thought they could roll in and get whatever they wanted because of some cultivated obligation.

That said, there was a difference between handling things better and handling them well. This conversation was still dredging things up that I tried to keep buried. I had worked on how to deal with them, worked damn hard, but that was exhausting. Generally it was better to just avoid thinking about this stuff.

"Alena, I know how hard Mom and Dad worked to send us to college." Not that it was ever possible to forget it. "But even if everything went perfectly, I wouldn't be able to reenroll until September. And I'd have to make up my second year courses, and then get my program back on track." I felt a weight settle on me. This was the line of realization that had come with my trigger. Minimum three years of school ahead of me, assuming everything went perfectly.

And things were not going perfectly. Therapy was helping, but it didn't actually fix any of the external problems I was dealing with. I still had my family trying to get me back on track through the worst tactics possible. I still had every problem I'd grown up with, and it was still being reinforced every time I spoke with them.

"Jozef," Her voice was hard. I suspected she desperately wanted to avoid having to call Mom and tell her she hadn't managed to talk me around. "Can you try, just try to not be a child about this? Mom and Dad are worried. The very least you can do is talk to them. After everything they've done you can at least do that much."

It was a last resort move. Kick the problem over to Mom. She wouldn't get the credit for fixing things, but it was basically a hand off to someone who would be even worse to deal with.

Everything they'd done. That phrase. In addition to assigning guilt to every supposedly nice thing from my childhood it brought everything else with it. Everything I tried to avoid thinking about, every painful moment. Next to that the problems from my time in University were a drop in the bucket. The mess with Sabah was a symptom, the inevitable result of something that had its groundwork laid over decades.

I focused and held onto the anger. Emotions are real, but they might not be true. Everything from my past, all the waves of shame, guilt, embarrassment, and self-loathing, it felt real, but I had worked on this. I had looked at it with Dr. Campbell's help. I knew the way it had been set up, that toxic environment that tricks your mind into believing it's normal.

The anger WAS real. Being able to look at all of it and hold on to my fury felt like a victory. Every moment when something seemed wrong and I was taught that it wasn't, that I should feel differently, that I had no right to be upset, well I was feeling that now. Not how I was taught to think, but the feelings beneath it. The sheer injustice of the situation. It was like reaching into my past and connecting with who I really was. And right now, I was furious.

There was a gray flash and my fist jumped down through the surface of the desk. Two inches of solid oak shattered like kindling without any of the leverage that should have allowed such an action. I lifted my right hand from the ruined desk and stared at the gray light surrounding it.

The gray aura surrounding it.

I watched as the energy slowly faded, but felt it inside me. That personal expression that was shoved in my face by the weapon, and apparently also kept buried in my own thoughts. That expression of who I was and what I'd dealt with. With a single impulsive act I had found an alternate path to that power.

I just had to start dealing with my shit.

A storm of emotions churned inside me. I didn't know how to feel about this. It was almost exactly what I'd been afraid of when I saw that weapon and read its name. But it was more than that. It shifted the anger at the mess of my life from something I either had to be ashamed of or tolerate to something that could be a source of power. Righteous anger, the kind that could actually be put to a useful function. I tried desperately to hold onto that feeling.

"What was that?" Alena's voice chirped the omni-tool on my left hand.

"I knocked over a chair." I answered without delay.

"I heard splintering." She said in an accusing tone.

"It bumped a jar with some pencils in it. Probably sounded weird through the phone." Blatant denials with no chance for rebuttal. She knew I was lying, but what was she going to do? At worst tell Mom, and then what? I smiled to myself.

"Look, Jozef…"

"Alena, I'm sorry, but you actually caught me at a bad time." I countered.

"What? What do you have to do?" She asked.

End this conversation before you can push any further? Get back to trying to save the city from the ABB and the world from March? Leave you to explain things to Mom, knowing you'll enjoy that call about as much as I enjoyed this one?

"I told you, I have a job." I quipped. "I need to get back to it."

"At this time of night?" She asked.

"Deliveries." I offered as a plausible excuse. "But, you know, thanks for calling. It was just great catching up. Call back any time." I didn't even try to keep the sarcasm out of that final line.

"I…" She trailed off. In a way I hated doing this to her. We all came for the same place, and at least for me that meant some unavoidable empathy towards my sisters. Plus, as bad as she was, dealing with her was a massive step up from Natalia or, God forbid, Mom.

"Goodbye Jozef. Look after yourself." Her tone at least made the sentiment believable.

"You too. Goodbye Alena."

I killed the call and slowly felt the vindication from the end of the conversation being eroded by doubt and guilt. It was harder to counter these things in the space of your own mind when you didn't have someone in front of you to direct your emotions towards.

I sank into the chair behind my ruined desk and slumped my head. Had I even accomplished anything there? Anything more than if I just let the call hit voicemail?

Well, I had the petty satisfaction of knowing that I was pissing off my entire family. Typical Jozef, making things harder for everyone. Of course, when you have literally no other way to express your frustration you are pretty much limited to schadenfreude. Probably not the healthiest dynamic, but that's pretty much my family in a nutshell.

That actually may have been why I held onto those Sphere toys for so long. I mean, yeah, they were important to me, but eventually they kind of became a way to express frustration without even doing anything. That's me, the brutal teenage rebellion of not throwing away some outdated plastic crap.

I felt a sense of comfort emanating from my passenger. Like when I'd been in therapy he had held back during my conversation, but was offering support to help with the aftermath. I appreciated it. The Forge missed a connection to the Magitech constellation as I felt his reassurance on the situation. It wasn't like the actual situation had changed, but it was helping to pull me out of the funk I'd been sinking into.

I watched as the splintered surface of the desk began to groan. I understood the mechanics perfectly and could tell exactly how the displaced forces were pulling on the structural components that would lead to imminent failure. I just didn't care enough to do anything about it. There was a mounting groan with the sound of splintering, then a crash as the desk's surface split in half, its center collapsing as its legs split out.

There was a gasp and I looked up to see Aisha standing in my office looking significantly more embarrassed than I ever remember seeing her. I slowly put together the pieces and furrowed my brow. As I rose to my feet she frantically pointed towards the office door.

"It was Survey!" There was a pleading tone in her voice and more shame in her expression than I'd ever seen before. I paused before turning to open the door.

Standing in the hallway, directly on the opposite side of the door, was Survey's hologram. I briefly marveled at the way Survey was positioning her hologram like it was listening at the door, despite all the sensor equipment being on the drone floating behind it. Oddly, beneath the drone was a tiny race car, about two feet long and in the style of Formula One. It was one of the set that had been built for Fleet by my duplicates and had been roaming the workshop ever since.

When I looked at the drone the hologram spoke, rather than providing a direct digital message.

"The call was triggering seriously adverse neural activity and emotional responses. Alternate monitoring was necessary after primary avenues had been disrupted." The hologram delivered the explanation in a calm voice, but the body language being conveyed by the projection mirrored Aisha's discomfort.

"She asked me to check on you." Aisha clarified. "I didn't realize what was going on until I got in here, then I was worried about distracting you or messing something up, so I just kind of…" She made a vague gesture.

I looked at the girl and frowned. "What did Garment…" I trailed off and turned to the door. There were a pair of white gloves on the doorframe and the hint of a dress peering around the edge. Of course she had been in on it. It seemed Garment's willingness to respect my privacy only extended to the point of emotional distress, after which she would happily join a conspiracy.

Great. Everyone was worried about me. Considering this was basically the same situation I had skipped out on from my family, why did it feel different in this case? Well, for one, while Aisha HAD violated my privacy, she wasn't giving me shit about it. That was a nice change. I imagined what would have happened if one of my sisters or like anyone from my high school had been privy to something this personal and cringed internally.

Was Aisha violating my privacy just going to be a thing that kept happening? Her spying on my gym paperwork had been an intentional, if not overly personal, violation. Sneaking into my apartment and workshop had been worse, but I think I had reinforced how dangerous that had been. This… Well, this was Survey.

I checked in with the A.I. through my implant and found a jumbled mess of frantic concerns and assessments. I winced at what she had been dealing with and did what I could to correct them. This would take a trip to the throne to properly address, but mostly boiled down to 'Web M.D. is not a reliable source'. Fleet had stepped in to stop some of the frantic logic loops Survey had launched herself into. While the older A.I. had provided support there was actually still a level of concern coming from him. Between the two of them and Garment's complicity I could believe Aisha had been put up to this.

Really, it only took one look at the girl to reveal how much she wished she hadn't been involved. More than shame and embarrassment, there was recognition. I cringed as I thought about her own history and how this probably looked.

I didn't want to deal with this. I wanted to bury it under layers of work and more pressing concerns until I felt fully justified not even thinking about my family or any of the issues relating to them. But then I looked at the desk. That would be easy enough to fix with basic Alchemy, but that didn't change the fact that I had been able to shatter it with no build up from a position completely without leverage. That wasn't strength, it was a supernatural force acting on the physical world.

Aura was serious stuff. It might run off the expression of some 'true self' that I barely understood and didn't want to think about, but it was a major superpower. So, I could send everyone out, scold them for snooping, patch over Survey's concerns, and bury everything all over again. Or I could actually try to deal with some of this stuff. That was something I badly needed to do, even if there weren't superpowers on the line.

Before I could say anything Aisha spoke up. "Hey," Her voice was unsteady as she turned to Garment and the drones. "Could you give us a minute first?"

Garment made a gesture of assent and ushered the drones and Survey's hologram away. She made an encouraging gesture before closing the door.

I watch to see what she would do. Instead of launching into any prepared speech she just kind of slumped towards the table and leaned against one of the chairs.

"Uh, do you mind?" She gestured towards the seat.

"No, go ahead." I assured her.

She pulled out the chair and sank into it, resting her head on a hand. I watched her for a moment before taking the seat across from her.

"Fuck." She lifted her head and took a breath. "Okay, I'm really, really sorry for barging in on that. Survey was freaking out, I couldn't tell what Garment was going on about, and by the time I got here I didn't know what to do."

I sighed. "It's alright."

"No!" she snapped. "No, it fucking isn't. God damn it, I shouldn't have seen that. It shouldn't even have fucking happened."

I nodded. "I know, but I understand."

"That's not…" She took another breath. "Look, you've been around the gym. Someone has told you about my parents, right? Probably with one of those whispered conversations where they leave out all the specific details?"

"Yeah." I admitted. I obviously wasn't the first, and probably wouldn't be the last person to be informed in that way.

"So, I've fucked up. I know that. Like, not generally, but that too. I mean stuff with you." She took a moment to center herself before continuing in a slightly calmer voice. "Messing with you, the cape thing, this place, the ABB. They were all major fuck ups, all on me. But you kept making excuses for me."

"What, did you want me to go off on you?" I considered an unpleasant possibility. "Was that what this was? Pushing to see how far you could go?" It didn't seem right, too disjointed, and I'd seen that kind of stuff before.

"No! That's not…" She collected herself before continuing. "I know I have problems, okay? Like, I've never been tested, but there's something there. Maybe it's one of those brain things they have alphabet codes for, or maybe I'm just generally screwed up. The thing is, I tend to fuck things up without meaning to. But you always cut me slack, make excuses for me or whatever. I used to think it was because of what you heard at the gym."

She grit her teeth on the last words. I couldn't imagine Aisha enjoying that kind of treatment. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a factor, but honestly her trigger and passenger were probably more significant elements in how I treated her.

She took a breath and looked at me. "You do it with her as well. Your sister, some of that stuff, I mean, you just took it."

I let silence settle before I responded. "You want to know why?"

She shrugged. "Kind of? Most people wouldn't put up with half that crap, and they aren't anywhere near as powerful as you. So why?"

It wasn't an easy question and I didn't really want to answer it. Still, Aisha was concerned. Did she think I was just tolerating her like I did with Alena? I let out a slow breath and ploughed forward.

"Direct confrontation wasn't exactly a winning strategy in my family." I admitted. "I kind of learned to work around it."

"Okay, but why do you put up with it?" She looked concerned. "Most people would have told her to fuck off half way through that call, if they even picked up at all."

Well, the historic answer was 'because I had to', and then mostly because it was hard to move away from that mindset. I had dug a little deeper into it since then. "I try to understand where they're coming from. Like, generally where people are coming from. Knowing that someone doesn't mean to hurt you doesn't make the situation any better, but it helps you understand why it happened. Sometimes that makes a difference."

This was my own history. I'd fucked up with Sabah. I didn't mean to, but that didn't make it any less bad for her. It's a different dynamic when you think about things like that. Getting hurt because someone doesn't know better is hardly better than getting hurt because of malice, but it can make it easier to deal with the aftermath.

Aisha swallowed, then looked up at me. "My mom? She's a mess. Like a real fucking mess. Anything you heard about her is probably true. The cheating on my dad, then the boyfriends, and the drugs. I'm… I'm pretty sure that's what messed me up. Like, she was more careful with my brother, but when I was born…"

"Aisha," I interrupted her. "You don't have to share this stuff just because you got a look at my own crap. And I'm not trying to say my problems are anything like yours."

My parents were still married. They both had good jobs. I'm pretty sure my family counted as upper-middle class, though they prioritized education over any extravagance. I didn't like the idea of complaining about the situation, much less to someone in Aisha's position.

"That's not what I…" She took a moment before continuing. "I was just trying to say I get that moms can suck. I don't know what the deal with yours is, but it doesn't sound good."

I considered how to approach this. "There's a quote by C.S. Lewis…"

"Narnia guy?"

"Yeah." I nodded. "He has this quote about how people who torment you for your own good torment you constantly and feel good about it afterwards."

My omni-tool watch chirped as Survey announced to my implant that she had the complete quote.

"What's that?" Aisha leaned in.

"Oh, right." I pulled up the holographic display. "Survey isn't really that hologram. She's more of a centralized system. There's a version on my watch that she's linked with."

"Uh, hi Survey?" Aisha waved at my arm. An image of Survey's avatar appeared on the display. "I figured about the hologram thing. I just didn't know you were still here."

"Hello Aisha." The image shifted to make eye contact with Aisha, once again despite having no sensors in the display. "Would you like the complete quote?"

I didn't really want to get into this, but Aisha seemed excited. At her gesture Survey began reciting it.

"Of all tyrannies, a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive. It would be better to live under robber barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies. The robber baron's cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at some point be satiated; but those who torment us for our own good will torment us without end for they do so with the approval of their own conscience."

Aisha nodded slightly at that, and it was the full extent I remembered, but Survey continued.

"They may be more likely to go to Heaven yet at the same time likelier to make a Hell of earth. This very kindness stings with intolerable insult. To be "cured" against one's will and cured of states which we may not regard as disease is to be put on a level of those who have not yet reached the age of reason or those who never will; to be classed with infants, imbeciles, and domestic animals."

I sat back as Survey finished. It was a lot more impactful than I had thought. Infants and imbeciles. Yeah, seriously more impactful. The Alchemy constellation passed by as I considered the implications.

"Shit." She turned to me. "That's what you're dealing with? What it was like?"

I shrugged and tried to play it off. "My sisters, me, it's what we're all dealing with. It's hard to manage when someone who is honestly trying to help is actually the problem. I don't like getting into it."

"Fuck, I get it. And sorry for pushing this far, and for all the stuff before." She shook her head. "I mean, no wonder you broke the desk."

I grinned slightly. The only good thing to come out of this. I didn't like where I had to go mentally in order to make Aura work, but at least I showed I could use it without the weapon. That thing was basically training wheels and thanks to my sister's call I had at least taken a couple of wobbly steps without its help. I could build on that.

"Uh, if you don't mind me asking, what was that glowy thing?" I looked back at Aisha. "The bit with the gray light and the smashing? I've never seen that before."

I sighed. I said I would answer questions, and at least it wasn't more personal family history stuff.

"It's called Aura." I focused. I wasn't totally confident I'd be able to manage this, but I had done it before. Now I had Do One Thing at a Time to help. I concentrated on the lantern-shield, the way its barbs and angles seemed so appropriate, and on the way Alena had dug up everything I'd tried to hold back. All those moments of burying my feelings, the frustration of it all. How I just wanted to let it out.

"Woah." Aisha called as the gray light spread over my body before fading.

I nodded and smiled slightly. "It's one of those hard to use things that came with other powers. It can do a bunch of physical enhancement stuff, but I can't use it reliably."

"What's the problem?" She asked. "It run off a low battery, or burn you out, or something?"

I shook my head and winced internally. "It's more personal than that."

Aisha leaned back. "Look, I've already pushed way more than I meant to today. I know you said I could ask anything, but please, don't get into it if you don't want to."

I sighed and looked up at her. "No, it's not that bad." Well, it sort of was, but the explanation was fine. "Aura is like this personal expression of who you are that manifests around you. Self-expression is a big part of it and I'm… not great with that kind of thing."

"That why it came out during the call?" I nodded. "God, your power is a lot more complicated than anyone thinks."

I shrugged at her. The worst of the effects of the call had passed, but I was still feeling agitated. It would be good to move on to another subject.

"How did you figure it out?" Aisha asked. "I mean, if all that stuff was hard to get to?"

"Apeiron was granted a weapon that acted to facilitate that particular ability." Survey's voice chimed from the screen floating above my wrist.

"How did that work?" Aisha asked the display directly.

"Specific design elements were personally resonant in a manner that facilitated the ability." The A.I. answered. Apparently she had been informed by my duplicates. No doubt they thought they were helping, and also enjoying the fact that they wouldn't need to deal with any of the aftermath.

Aisha was looking at me hopefully. To say I didn't want to get into this would be an understatement. On the other hand, Aura. It was the super mode of life fibers without the mental effects or needing Garment as a regulator.

It was also deeply personal, and something I didn't want to share with anyone. But that was the problem. Keeping closed off was pretty much the antithesis of Aura. That power was about projecting who you were out into the world, almost literally baring your soul. Doing that without honest expression was incredibly difficult. If I wanted to use it without training wheels I would need to get comfortable with this kind of thing.

Which is how we found ourselves by the entryway lockers. By we I meant everyone. Garment, Aisha, Survey's hologram, and the recently added holographic projection of Fleet leaning against the wall in his racecar getup.

"Is that it?" Aisha asked. "I mean, it looks nice, I was just expecting more from the way you were acting."

I held up my arm to show the black metal band wrapped around my wrist. "The power that Aura came with was about shifting weapons from one form to another, combining them, or collapsing them to smaller forms."

"Wait," She leaned in. "That expands, right? What does it turn into?"

"You might want to step back." I said. "It's not very nice."

Aisha retreated to the other side of the room and watched intently. I did not want to do this, but I could at least consider why I didn't want to do it. Taking a step back and trying to separate out the emotions from the current situation.

This would help me get a handle on Aura, there was no doubt about that. My concerns about it dredging up old memories were kind of moot at this point. That damage was done. I could try to paper over it, or try to get something out of it.

Power through and deal with it. It's what I'm good at.

I activated the shift and felt plates of adamantium slide across my arm, forming a gauntlet. The front of the band unfolded into a small shield ringed by barbed spikes. Weapon mounts and an integrated lantern decorated the front and a spool of razor wire sat under the shield, connected to the grapnel launcher on the gauntlet.

Aisha watched the entire display with wide eyes. I felt my confidence wilt as she stared open mouthed at the monstrosity of metal that was apparently a personal expression of self. Suddenly this wasn't seeming like such a good idea. I desperately wanted to activate the grapnel and launch myself out of this situation.

"Holy shit." Aisha whispered, and I cringed internally. "That is so fucking cool."

…and it was times like this that reminded me that Aisha is in eighth grade.

"Seriously, look at that fucking thing! It's like the coolest shit ever! And it gives you superpowers? Jesus Christ that's awesome. Is that a harpoon on the glove? Can you like, Batman around the city with it?"

I turned away from her uncomfortably intense adoration, looking to Garment for help.

What I saw filled me with unspeakable dread.

Garment had her sketchbook out and was frantically drawing SOMETHING inside it. Sometimes it wasn't easy to tell where she was directing her attention, but this time there was no doubt, not with the way she shifted every time the shield moved.

Aisha followed my gaze, then leaned over to look at the image Garment was working on. Her eyes lit up and a smile split her face.

"Garment, no."

"Garment, yes!" Aisha responded as Garment turned a page and began working on another sketch. I quickly collapsed the weapon, much to the disappointment of my audience.

"Oh, come on." Aisha pleaded on her and Garment's behalf.

"Nope, that's enough." I put the weapon back into its locker and closed the door. "Before all this crap started we had work to do. That situation hasn't changed, so no more distractions."

When I turned back I saw Aisha leaning forward, reading the locker's placard. My stomach roiled as I remembered what was printed there. But instead of treating it with any level of derision Aisha looked up at me sympathetically.

"Is that why you were so anxious about this?" she asked.

I shrugged and felt like sinking into the floor. "Sort of. It's not a nice thing to have shoved into your face."

"Yeah," She agreed. "I guess your power isn't that subtle with this stuff."

"No." I said, looking down at the plate. "It really isn't."

Weapon Name: Trauma

Owner: Apeiron

Class: Grapnel-Lantern Shield

Type: Melee, Ranged

Weapon Derivation: Lantern Shield, Grapple Gun (Razor Wire)

I was thankfully saved from the awkwardness by the arrival of a power from the Resources and Durability constellation. It was called Lack of Materials and cut the material requirements for any work in half.

Normally that would have been useless, considering my other resource powers, but this had another effect. If I did use all the materials I needed, after the effect of other powers was factored in, it would provide an increase to both quality and capability.

That was absolutely massive, and also unique. The quality increase was nice, but I had several powers that improved the quality of my work. There were some projects or designs that just couldn't be enhanced through better workmanship. Double the quality of a knife and it's still a knife, just a better made knife. This power meant I could actually affect the capability of what I created.

Actual, blanket improvements just from providing the same materials I'd already been working with. It was huge. And daunting.

Once again, everything I made was obsolete. And this wasn't just a small blip of quality. Everything I made was now lacking the expanded functionality that I could grant it. All my workshop upgrades, personal gear, vehicles, equipment, armor, and even household items. It was all outdated.

"What?" Aisha asked. "New power?"

"Yeah." I admitted. "Called Lack of Materials. Uh, actually related to the volcano."

"Seriously?" She raised an eyebrow. I just shrugged.

"Some powers have loose connections. Same type of technology, or just a similar feel. Not always obvious. Volcano's also connected to a power that makes things I create look good."

"So they're grouped together? Like they're from the same place?" She seemed to be considering something.

"Yeah, but it's not always relevant." I replied.

She put aside whatever she was thinking about and turned back to me. "So what does this one do? Something with materials, right?"

I nodded. "Can make stuff with half the materials I used to need, but if I use the full amount I need it comes out a lot better. Not just better made, but with better capability for whatever it's designed for."

"But, wait." Aisha considered things. "If you only need half or whatever, you can make something, break it down, and you have twice as much? This power gives you infinite materials! Holy crap, you're going to be unstoppable!"

"Aisha." I spoke in a flat voice. "I already have a power that does that. I've had infinite materials since Saturday night."

She blanched. "What, seriously?"

"Yeah." I confirmed. "And it's a better power than this one. Between five and twenty five times what I put into a project."

"So, what? You just have infinity gold?" Something occurred to her. "Shit, that's how you made the throne, right? And the diamonds. Jesus, you really are rich?"

"Okay, you're just getting that now?" I asked.

"Give me a break. This takes some time to sink in." She shook her head. "So what was that other thing? About improvements?"

I let out a slow sigh. "Yeah. It's a huge quality increase. Not just that, but more functionality than before." I thought about all the work I'd put in that would have to be redone. "I'm going to have to rebuild all my projects and most of the workshop again."

"Why?"

Aisha's question took me completely off guard. "What?" I asked.

"Okay, I'm not pretending to get this stuff on your level, but why do you need to rebuild everything?" She took a look around. "Is it worse than it was before?"

"No." I admitted.

"Is it going to make a difference? I mean, you pretty much creamed Uber and Leet. Would this upgrade have made that better?"

"Not really." It might have let my duplicates take down Oni Lee, but that was dicey. He was flicker teleporting continuously and using buildings and civilians for cover. A sniper shot can't stop someone who's gone by the time you aim the weapon.

"Is any of it going to help stop March or the ABB?" She asked.

I thought before responding. "Some of it will. Major projects and key manufacturing components."

"Then shouldn't you just do those? Why do you need to do everything, especially if this is going to happen again?"

I took a moment to think about it. The instinctive reason that jumped to my mind was 'because it wasn't right'. All these projects were staring at me, reminding me that I could do better. That they were less than my best effort. Stopping here, going out with less than the best I could manage, that was admitting it was my limit. Permanently associating me with mistakes and rushed decisions.

I normally wouldn't even have thought about it, but after the call I'd had and the effort it took to access Aura it was fresh in my mind. This was more family crap. That attitude had been so common growing up. Good enough wasn't a thing. You did your best, and if it was less than perfect, if it was defective, that meant that you were defective.

I gritted my teeth at the thought. Sadness transitioning to anger. It was progress. I hated leaving things, but Aisha was right. I couldn't afford to make sure everything was perfect. I needed to focus on what could make a difference now.

"You're right." I admitted. "I need to prioritize things."

"Great. So what's first?" She asked eagerly. Right, I had promised her power armor. That was something I'd be working up towards. I wasn't going to stick her in a hardsuit on day one.

"Well," I answered. "Probably should take a crack at celestial bronze. Magic metals will open up a lot of options, and I have the volcano now."

"That the one you need the magic memory water for?" she asked.

"Yeah." I answered "That's the stumbling block, but I should be able to figure it out."

"Hey," She looked up at me. "You said parahumans are like magic right?" I nodded. "There any way I can help with that? Since it's a memory thing?"

The question took me by surprise. I stared blankly before I could think of a response. "Uh, I really don't know." I started going over the alchemy needed for this transmutation. "Maybe?" I offered.

"Really?" She perked up as she asked.

"I'm not sure." I admitted. "I'll have to check things in my magic lab."

"You have a magic lab?" She inquired.

I nodded. "It showed up right after you called. I haven't had a chance to check it out yet, so this is as good a time as any." And hopefully there wouldn't be any difficult to explain surprises waiting for us.

It turned out the magic lab was fairly mundane, at least by the standards of the Forge. It was a good deal more than just a lab, actually a small base in its own right. That means in addition to the facilities needed for magical research and testing it had various basic amenities. Essentially it was another version of the Hidden Hideaway house, but without the veneer of domestic design.

Which isn't to say there wasn't a surprise waiting for me. I was dealing with the Celestial Forge after all. It wouldn't be right if there wasn't some horrible revelation. Since the workshop started seeing rapid alterations Survey had been charting them obsessively. This resulted in floor plans that were fully three-dimensional and accurate to less than a millimeter. Reviewing these on the way to the lab revealed the terrible truth.

When the volcano appeared it was clearly the largest addition to my workshop. A 'small' stratovolcano is still thousands of feet high, and considerably broader. I had recognized its appearance next to the Skyforge, its size, its relative positioning, and the fact that it had some internal structures. It wasn't until Survey mapped those internal caves and passages that I realized what had happened.

The Skyforge had been the highest point of my workshop. The volcano towered over it. The insane thing was the volcano extended DOWN. Down as in into my base. There were links from the volcano tunnels to certain areas of my workshop. The relative size and positioning of the volcano's appearance meant its base pretty much encompassed my entire workshop.

Which meant I didn't have a workshop anymore. I had a volcano lair. Everything other than my Skyforge was 'inside' the volcano. It meant I could actually make alterations, add paths and hallways, and install new rooms. It also meant everything was inside a volcano. I was trying to convince the Protectorate I wasn't a villain while simultaneously conducting research from inside an extra-dimensional volcano fortress.

That was something I decided to set aside for the moment. And definitely not mention it to Aisha. At all. In any context.

For the moment, I had a proper magic lab to enjoy as well as my first parahuman test subject. It was a level of research I hadn't had a chance to indulge in before, so I was relishing the opportunity to dive into the mystical arts. It was a dynamic and harrowing encounter with the primal forces of the universe.

Aisha was not quite as impressed by the endeavor.

"You know, I'm pretty sure I've done all of this stuff at sleepovers. We could probably save time by just grabbing this crap from my room."

"Aisha, I have two sisters. I'm well aware of what happens at sleepovers. Trust me, you were doing it wrong. Now hold the cup steady." I dripped the molten wax into the water, then removed the hardened blob and examined it under a magnifying glass.

"So what is that supposed to accomplish again?" She leaned back to look at me.

"Measuring thalamic differential." I answered without looking up. "I need to find out how your power influences things around you."

"Don't you have a machine for that?" She asked. "I figured this would be like five minutes under an MRI, then on to the magic god metal."

"Trust me, I'd like to get to the god metal just as much as you, but this is new ground." I set aside the wax and added some details to my notes.

"Is that 'new ground' based on schoolyard fortune telling?" She quipped.

"Divination. There is actually a method here." I sighed.

"So you bringing out the crystal pendants again?" She quipped. "Or are we moving on to Ouija boards and cootie catchers?"

I looked up from my work. "You suddenly an expert on mystical dynamics now?"

"Come on, can't you speed this up?" She asked. "I mean, it was fun at first, but this is just dragging."

I considered things. I could actually use some help here, and Aisha was going to find out these details eventually.

"Fine." I answered. "I'll get some help. That will get us through faster."

"Great." She looked around the lab. "Who's helping? Survey? Fleet? Garment?"

"No." I smiled. "The other guys."

"What?"

Aisha watched me skeptically as I held the vial of blue liquid. The magic research lab was conveniently located next to the alchemy lab, handy for both the crossover applications and easy access to items like this.

Aisha watched me carefully and I lifted the potion to my lips and swallowed it in two gulps.

Her eyes widened as first one, then another duplicate stepped out.

"Hi Aisha." The first said. "Nice to meet you."

"What the hell is this?" She stammered.

I held up the empty vial. "Duplication potion. It makes two copies that last about twenty minutes."

"You can just make something that does that? For anyone?" I could see the implications she was putting together.

"Nope." The second said. "Those only work for him." He indicated towards me. "Also can't stack them. Nasty side effects. Need to run their course or pop."

She raised an eyebrow. "Pop?"

"They aren't that sturdy." I answered. "One hit and they're gone."

Aisha nodded slowly. "So they're like those bugs? Just energy constructs or something?"

Before I could answer I felt the Forge move again, connecting with the Knowledge constellation. My duplicates reacted as well.

"What was that?" Aisha asked.

"New power." The first replied.

"It's called Analysis Tools." I offered. "Covers how to build sensors for determining physical makeup, finding secret doors, and how to detect magic."

"Once again." The second griped, looking at my notes. "Get a power right after we need it."

"Hey, it'll be good for confirmation of results. And monitoring the transmutation." The first offered.

"Wait, wait, wait." Aisha raised her hands. "You all have his powers? Like, even new powers? You can just make more of yourself?"

"It's not like we last very long." The first commented. "But we help out while we're here."

"Hold on." She added. "You have all the same gear, right?" She looked at me, then at the duplicates. "Were you two in the suits at the Uber and Leet fight?"

"No." Said the first. Aisha relaxed slightly. "Those were the last guys."

The girl stopped moving. "What?"

"The last guys? From the potion before us?" the second clarified. I was just watching the exchange with more amusement than was probably appropriate.

"What do you mean the last guys?" She asked a little desperately. "You are the guys made by the potion, right?"

"By this potion." The first offered. "Different every time, depending on what he'd done since then."

"Right." Said the second. "We're copies of Joe, or I guess that should be Apeiron Prime." He shared a snicker with the other duplicate. "So we're the same as him when the potion goes down."

"So what happened to the last guys?" She asked with concern.

"Oh, they're gone." The first thought for a second before clarifying. "Well, one is gone, one is frozen in a time bubble in the process of disappearing." I felt him check the sensor logs from the time stop. "Should probably finish vanishing around October, 2864."

"So you're just going to vanish? Like, you're here now and are going to be gone forever?" She gave me a concerned look.

Looked down at her. "I've already had that discussion. They're fine with it."

"We are." The second added.

"Also they get time off at the end of their duration to do whatever they want." I added.

"You like the TV room?" The first asked.

Aisha nodded. "I thought that might have been a little out of character for Jozef."

"Hey, they're my copies. It's still me building that stuff." I contested. "I'm just the one who also has to deal with it after."

Aisha nodded slowly. "So…" A smile crept onto her face. "What kind of stuff do they build?"

There was a conspiratorial smile between my duplicates that I did not like at all. "Guys?" I asked. "Back to work?"

I did manage to get my duplicates back on task, and Aisha moved remarkably fast from existential concern to coconspirator. I had a feeling I was going to have to closely monitor 20% time whenever Aisha was involved.

We did manage to pull together a basic magic scanner, not a high quality nuanced device, but the type of thing we could assemble in a few minutes. It could detect presence and absence of magic and detect the directed use of parahuman abilities.

Aisha didn't actually radiate magic if she wasn't using her power, and I'm betting that's the case with most parahumans. It effectively shot down the idea that I could track down the ABB through mass scans. I might be lucky and catch someone when they activate their power as a civilian, but that would require a level of surveillance that I wasn't ready to roll out safely. Setting aside the unwritten rules, which the ABB was currently setting on fire, the last thing I needed was the Protectorate up in arms about a drone army.

The entire endeavor moved into the Alchemist's lab for my second attempt at a major transmutation. Unlike the previous precisely arranged set of reagents and symbols the primary focus of this endeavor was Aisha sitting in the center of the room holding a jar of water.

"So, just activate my power? Nothing fancy?" She asked, seeming a little disappointed.

"The binding array should take care of most of it. Just drop the effect when you see a change." I reassured her as my duplicates made the final adjustments to the ritual.

"Right." She looked down at the jar. "So what am I looking for?"

Frankly I had no idea. I understood the mystical composition of River Lethe water, but the physical appearance was still a mystery. The best I could say was that it would be different. There wasn't a lot more than that for me to go on. These powers were running that 'skill and understanding' thing, not 'experience and memory'.

"Just watch for any visible difference." I assured her. "Once you see a change pour it into the basin so we can bind the effect."

She nodded in understanding. "What's he doing?" She asked, gesturing to the duplicate working on the potion station. "That have something to do with this?"

"Nope." He quipped. "Making more duplication potions. Lack of Materials lets the quality increase as long as we don't skimp on ingredients. Figure we might get up to half an hour."

Which would be great in terms of crafting and research projects and terrifying in terms of their 20% time. Six minutes of free time with two copies of me doing whatever they wanted or thought was amusing…

Maybe I should get Survey to add that to the list of S-Class threats I've accumulated.

"Right," I said, checking over the final work. "On that note we should get started so we don't run into the end of the potion duration again."

"Hey, do I get a little cape?" Aisha asked, pointing to the mantels the second duplicate was handing out.

"These are condensed alchemical robes." The duplicate explained. "You don't need one if you're not participating in the transmutation."

"So are they magic or something?" she asked.

"No." I explained. "Just tools." Actually that was a thought. These had been designed and constructed before I got my Arcane Craft power. They were good quality, but otherwise mundane. By rebuilding them as proper focuses, especially with Elven Enchantment and the benefits of Lack of Materials, they could greatly improve our ability to transmute materials. It might be enough to finally make transmuting cybertonium a possibility.

That was something I'd have to prioritize. I'd been way too general with my upgrades. There were particular applications that hadn't been relevant, just because of the timeframe I'd been under. Between new abilities and everything happening in the city I hadn't had a chance to fully apply my powers.

Arcane Craft would really need to be explored. It wasn't limited to magic, so had the potential of providing a means of channeling any 'mysterious forces'. That extended much further than I imagined, potentially even to parahuman abilities.

It was a thought for later, but not something I could put off indefinitely. However, right now I had a transmutation to complete.

"Everything's set up." I confirmed after a final check. "You can activate your power."

Aisha nodded and closed her eyes. I was impressed she hadn't accidently flickered her power since the call. It meant it was becoming easier, or she was displaying a tremendous effort on my behalf. The way her expression relaxed as she let out her power led me to believe it was the second one.

And suddenly I was standing in my Alchemist's Lab with two duplicates and a complete ritual space. We knew what this was supposed to be, but there was something that made it impossible to connect it with the idea that Aisha was here.

"Okay, magic sensor is reading her power, centered on… somewhere." One of the duplicates confirmed. "Can't actually tell where, even with it on the readouts."

Survey provided a focus location for us, despite the fact that I was absolutely sure there was nothing there.

"God damn that's a strong power." One of the duplicates muttered.

"Aisha says that she knows and asks how long this will take." Survey's hologram informed us from where's its drone was projecting it at the edge of the ritual space. "Though her exact dialogue contains significantly more profanity."

"Thank you Survey, and Aisha?" I asked, though it felt distinctly odd. "We'll get through this as quickly as we can."

At that the duplicates began lighting candles and burning the reagents. Despite there being no visible focal material the energies could be seen moving towards the center of the circle. The second duplicate began the chant and the rest of us picked it up.

I realized shortly after that I was essentially singing in front of an audience. The thought made me seriously uncomfortable, but my duplicates reassured me digitally and I was able to maintain the chant through the process. Finally, seemingly out of nowhere, a cloudy liquid appeared in the central basin.

We moved in carefully and continued the ceremony, adding binding agents to the mixture and sealing the arcane energies to the liquid. When the ritual reached its peak the fluid turned milky white and expanded massively in volume, nearly to the rim. All three of us took a careful step back.

"Holy shit. We actually did it." One of the duplicates gasped.

"Did what? It worked?" Aisha was suddenly next to the basin and leaning over it.

"Aisha!" I called back. "Careful!"

"What?" she asked, but still retreated.

"It worked. That's true River Lethe water. That means complete memory erasure on contact." I warned.

"Shit, seriously?" She looked at the milky water. "I didn't know it was that big a deal."

"Well, your powers might have some weird interaction or shield you somehow, but I wouldn't want to test that."

"Good plan." She nodded, but her attention still seemed to be drawn to the basin. "So, aside from god metal you can just mind wipe people now?"

"Hey, we could do that before." The second duplicate quipped. "This is just easier than mucking with memory filters."

"You have memory tech?" Aisha asked.

"We have a lot of tech." I admitted. "More than I've been able to fully roll out."

"Spoiled for choice, I guess." She commented. "So what now?"

"Now?" I smiled. "Now we forge."

It actually took a fair amount of time to get to the caldera of the volcano. It wasn't a friendly environment, but Aisha insisted on coming and was observing the process from the back of an oversized drone constructed for the purpose. I was on a new set of duplicates, probably the last ones who would be made with a twenty-minute duration, and standing knee deep in lava, working an ingot of infused bronze in the heat of the volcano.

It was excessive, but I wanted to get through this. Being knee deep in lava was unpleasant even if Fashion's reinforcement made the heat a non-issue. The main problem was lava wasn't like water. It was molten rock, and was actually denser than the human body. You couldn't really swim in lava because you'd float like a pool toy.

As such walking into a lava pool was more like digging aside heavy mud to make holes for your feet. It really diminished the grandeur of working to forge divine metal inside an active volcano.

Still, we had everything we needed. Divinely infused metal, a volcanic forge, and, after careful tending by a trio of masterfully skilled divine smiths with expert tools, a basin of magical water to quench the red-hot ingot.

One of the duplicates took on that job, fully covered in case of any splashed as the water sputtered around the searing bronze. Even with all the protections he was able to communicate feelings of discomfort from the fumes and splatters, providing as much mental data as his implant could convey. It seemed there was serious risk associated with making a metal this powerful.

The duplicate lifted the completed ingot from the water, Workaholic now making it twenty five times the mass it was before. Fleet directed my motoroid to secure the Lethe water and move it to a containment vessel. It was another incredibly powerful item I was going to have buried in my workshop.

The three of us trudged out of the volcanic pool, brushing off cooling lava as we went. I held the unnaturally perfect ingot of bronze and felt the power within it. My mind spun with the possibilities it presented.

I looked out over the mountain as the Forge missed a connection to the Alchemy constellation. This was a big step, probably the biggest step next to cybertonium. It opened up serious enchanting, stronger weapons and armor, truly magical applications, and even fully independent automatons. With Divine Child and Unnatural Skill there was so much I could accomplish.

I shared a smile with my duplicates as the oversized drone we had built for Survey approached. It also looked like there was a platform on it, which was a little odd as far as design decisions went, but not exactly debilitating.

And then Aisha was on the drone looking apologetic.

"Sorry, got caught up in things." She had a sheen of sweat from the heat radiating from the volcano and was shielding her eyes from the open caldera. "So, what are you going to make first?"

I looked at the girl and conferred with my duplicates. We understood her problem, and how much effort to put into managing her power, but it was still annoying. The constant mental jaunts as I had to recontextualize everything I was doing wore on me.

Then I thought about what I'd been considering before, the potential of my abilities and applications I hadn't tapped into yet. And I considered the celestial bronze in my hand. Incredibly magical, actually even more so in this case thanks to the enhancement from Lack of Materials. If there was anything that could manage this project, it would be this.

"I think I have an idea."

It turned out there was a big difference between an idea and a completed project. This wasn't something where I could just pull a design out of my head and make it work. I was in new territory here, and even with all my resources it was proving to be a challenge.

But that was the point. I hadn't been pushing what I could do. The forge gave me skills, and I applied them at their base level. No ambition or creativity. I'd basically been doing busy work that had luckily kept me ahead of my enemies. This was something I needed to explore and develop properly, but also something that would yield real benefits.

It took well more than the duration I had left on my duplicates. They benevolently decided to take their 20% time on related projects, actually digging into the Magic Lab and related materials.

I handed Aisha off to Garment, and no doubt she'd come back with a new wardrobe. It reminded me of some other projects I'd need to address for her, though thankfully these were more rote work than experimental projects.

The work crept on into the late evening. It was probably the most ambitious project I'd attempted since my computer throne, but what it could accomplish would be worth it. I was alloying celestial bronze's magic into mithril and working that into an act of arcane craft and enchantment I'd never considered before. The difficulty was such that I was actually making mistakes. I can't remember the last time a crafting project was difficult enough to actually push my skills.

But I made it. Finally, after a full night's work, multiple extended duplicates, and an unbelievable amount of research and experimentation I had it. The implications of what this could mean to the world rivaled some of my most ambitious projects, and I had done it.

I took a case containing my masterwork and a few other items to meet Aisha at the entryway. The girl was out of her 'cape costume' and into a more casual outfit of Garment's design. She also had a backpack, also of Garment's design, almost certainly full of additional clothing.

Garment was behind her with a large duffle bag and seemed to be trying to convince her that Aisha should definitely attempt to carry a bag of clothing roughly the same size as her. The girl was brushing her off, and I wondered how long that particular conversation had gone on for.

Aisha smiled when she saw me and hurried towards the entrance. "So, vacation over? You kicking me out?"

"I'm afraid so. I don't think your family would appreciate you staying here." I replied.

"Shame. Nicer than either my dad or brother's place." She quipped.

"Don't even start. Not even joking about that stuff." I cautioned. I had enough trouble with the mess with Taylor. I didn't want to dive into another one.

"Yeah, sorry. Kind of force of habit." She apologized.

I nodded. "Okay, serious time."

"This the Simurgh stuff?" She asked.

"Unfortunately, we'll need to get into it." I gestured at the entrance. "Once you leave the workshop you'll be past the bulk of my defenses. The best way to counter precognition is really to follow my lead."

"What, that's it?" She asked skeptically.

"Basically." I confirmed. "I base my actions off when my power expands, which shouldn't be predictable. You wait on me and it should cover you as well."

"That's all it takes?" She looked up at me. "I figured there'd be containment procedures, or implants, or some crazy time magic."

"This is basic protection. It's not perfect, but it should scramble long term models. Just hold off until you get my signal."

"Right." She nodded. "What about the case?"

I held it up and opened it. Inside was a delicate wrist watch and a decorated hair clip. Aisha stared down at them blankly while Garment displayed her complete approval.

"So, I'm guessing this isn't just jewelry, right?" She asked.

I nodded. "This is the first of your equipment. Start with the watch."

Aisha lifted it from the velvet case and carefully put it on her wrist. She twisted it back and forth, appreciating the design. "So, what's the deal with this?" She asked.

"Survey?" I called out the A.I.'s name and a sheath of orange mass fields appeared around Aisha's forearm, including a display screen showing Survey's waving avatar.

"Hello Aisha." She spoke through the watch's audio.

"What the hell?" Aisha started frantically twisting her arm, watching as the fields followed it's relative position.

"It's an omni-tool." I answered. "Fully functional, if a bit scaled down." Thanks to my gadget training I was good with watches. There was a lot of technology stuffed into that device, and it was effectively scan proof by any conventional metric.

"Wait, that thing you have that makes things and shoots fire and stuff?" Her eyes were glowing, and I lifted a hand to stall her.

"Advanced features, including all combat applications, are locked behind Survey's control. Which brings me to the second point." Survey helped by displaying the new component of the watch.

"Uh, what am I looking at?" Aisha asked, as she stared at the design blankly.

"That," I said with pride. "Is a miniaturized QEC, a Quantum Entanglement Communicator." It was a major project, not on the level of the second item, but it had taken multiple duplicates dedicating their 20% time to the work to get the machinery for producing it up and running.

"Okay, I get that this is big, since it has a word like 'Quantum' in its name, but I could use a little more context."

"Right, so it works by separating particles while maintaining quantum entanglement between them allowing relative changes to be conveyed through the link instantaneously." I saw her expression and dialed things back. "It's a communicator that doesn't use radio and never loses signal."

"Oh, okay. That's how it's talking to Survey?" She asked.

"A truncated copy of my program has been installed on this device. Additionally the QEC provides a link to the workshop computer core, allowing access to my full functions whenever the workshop is not isolated from reality." The A.I. answered for herself.

"Wait," Aisha began to put the pieces together. "So this means I can talk to her whenever I want? Like, even if my power's on I'll have someone to talk to?" Her voice cracked slightly at the end and Garment rested a glove on her shoulder.

"Uh, yeah. That is the case here, but about that…"

"What?" She asked. "Is there some problem with it? Something wrong?"

"No." I answered quickly. "No, it's fine. You'll be able to talk to her when your power's out of control, but you probably won't need to."

"What?" She scrunched her brow. I sighed in response.

"Okay, I'm doing a bad job explaining this." I took a breath. "Uh, context? I have this power called Arcane Craft. It's about making items that channel magic and other forces."

She nodded. "Like what your wand and shield do?"

"Same principle, but a bit different. It's stuff that I can design, not just what my power gives me." She nodded again and I continued. "The thing is, this works with pretty much anything supernatural, even if my power doesn't count it as magic or something."

"Okay…" She trailed off, not understanding what I was getting to.

"Right, so I realized when we were transmuting the water that I could potentially make an item that alters or helps with the expression of a parahuman power."

I watched her face as things fell into place. Her eyes locked onto the hair clip. It was precisely forged out of celestial bronze infused mithril, the most magical material I had access to. The clip was decorated with a cluster of elven enchanted diamonds held in an arrangement that was both of serious thalamic significance and quite aesthetically pleasing, looking like an arrangement of leaves and berries.

I had actually gone a little overboard on the diamonds just to make it more easily dismissed as a piece of costume jewelry. Between the size, color, and number of stones the only two options were that a 13-year-old had several million dollars' worth of gems in a hair clip, or she had dropped $5.99 for an overdressed trinket at Claire's.

I hadn't quite succeeded in making the clip look embarrassingly tacky, but I had given it my best attempt.

"What does it do?" She asked in a shaky voice.

"Okay, a focus like this would have to be on the head. Normally a diadem or something like that, but one of my powers helps with miniaturization. You shouldn't lose any effect as long as it's attached to your hair. I used the metal I just made alloyed with an earlier project and specifically enchanted gems…"

Aisha leaned forward. "What. Does. It. Do."

I took a breath. This seemed like a brilliant idea when I started the project, but handing it over untested to someone who desperately needed it was causing anxiety to bubble up. I felt reassurance from my passenger and received assurances from both duplicates who were on 20% time, as well as an assurance that the fire was under control…

I elected to send Fleet to help with that.

"This is new ground for me, and it's untested, but it SHOULD help you develop control of your powers." I watched her reaction as her face contorted through shades of desperate hope.

"How… How does it work?" She asked in a small voice, and I noticed she was leaning into Garment's support, possibly subconsciously.

"You put it on and it should help you learn to regulate your powers. I tried to make it a development tool rather than suppression or something like that. If it works properly eventually you won't need it."

"It will work." Her voice was unflinching. "You built it. I know it will work." She gently picked it up and looked at the delicate metalwork. "Does this have a name, or is that just something they do online?"

"Ren." I answered. "Its name is Ren."

That had actually been the biggest step forward in its manufacturing. I desperately wanted this to work. That meant pulling out all the stops and pushing powers further than I had before. I wasn't ready to sing to the unseen, but I could use words to define the aspects of an item. It had been a first try, but I could feel the power bind when the word came to my lips.

Ren. The word of power for Remembrance. My first attempt at the second kind of Elven Enchantment.

Aisha lifted the hairclip and secured her purple lock with it. As soon as it was in place I could see a wave of tension leave her body. It was lucky Garment was there to support her.

"Holy shit. It's so easy." For a second I was standing in the entryway with an empty case looking at Garment, then Aisha was back, faster than ever before.

"Thank you. Thank you so much." She was almost crying. I was having flashbacks to Weld, and feeling distinctly uncomfortable with how much of this might be in my future.

But this was a significant event. Not just for Case 53s. Anyone with uncontrollable powers, I would be able to help them. That had the potential to make a world of difference, even if things like this were a lot more time consuming and difficult to produce than most of my technology.

Aisha was still marveling at the focus I had made. "This is just so huge. I can't imagine anything bigger than this."

"Oh," I asked, lifting a beautifully made thermos. "So I guess you don't want this standard sized thermos holding twelve gallons of elf tea?"

Aisha took one look at the item in my hand, then at my expression, and broke into a dry laugh. I couldn't even take credit for this. It had been a project from one of my duplicates' 20% time, combining the size reductions possible with Tinkerer with the mundane super science of Simple Scientific Solution. The result was a beautifully made thermos, slightly on the heavy side, but able to carry an immense amount of liquid.

Well, mundane liquid. It had been designed using Simple Scientific Solution, which meant it could get a bit weird about household applications. There was no problem with Tea, even magical tea. I might be able to get away with some potions, but using it to carry delicate solutions, reactive chemicals, or molten metals was just asking for a spectacular failure.

That was just the nature of the power. It made mundane issues trivial, but didn't lend itself to larger concerns.

"Okay, thank you." She greedily took the thermos. "For that, and everything else. I mean…"

"Don't." I assured her. "It's fine. Just try to be careful. Are you going to be alright out there?"

She nodded. "I'll be fine at my dad's place. Need to get it ready for when he gets out of the hospital tomorrow. Probably going to move in with my brother sometime soon, but that's still being sorted out, and that might get pushed until Dad's back on his feet or something." She shrugged.

"Do you need a ride or anything?" I asked.

The girl shook her head and ran her fingers over the clip in her hair. "I can manage. With this thing my power is like a light switch. I can sneak out no problem."

I was glad to hear that. "You'll have Survey if anything happens." She looked down at the watch, with its mass fields collapsing, the last being Survey's avatar waving goodbye. "As long as the workshop is open you have an unblockable line. Even if that's cut off the omni-tool can still use regular EMF or the cell network."

"I'll be fine. I mean, thanks for worrying, both of you, but this is more than I could have asked for." She put the thermos in her backpack then, after one last hopeful gesture from Garment, took the heaving duffle bag of clothing.

"Uh, do you need some help?" I asked as she struggled with the bulk.

"No, it's not that heavy, just bulky." Right, Garment wouldn't risk clothing getting damaged by overpacking.

"Alright." I sighed as I thought about the next few days. "I've got a lot to deal with over the next couple of days, but I'll get some work started on your equipment. We'll need to sort out training and gear…"

"What?" She asked.

I had dropped off as the Celestial Forge made another connection to the same cluster of motes that provided Skills: Physics. There was enough reach to secure two more. The first gave a shocking comprehensive understanding of the physical sciences, biology, chemistry, geology and even ecology. It was a bit oddball, and would have been of dubious use if not for how comprehensive and advanced it was.

The second mote covered combat skills. It gave a comprehensive understanding of hand to hand combat and training techniques. Really comprehensive, covering a truly insane array of weapons and possible opponents, some of which were just bizarre, but still somehow effective.

"New power." I answered. "Knowledge of natural science and hand to hand combat."

Aisha scrunched her nose. "You get some really weird combinations."

I sighed. "Believe me, I know." I looked back towards the door. "I'll be in touch. You good to go?"

"Yeah." She shifted the bag slightly. "You want me to flicker my power again, for the throne thing?"

"That would be helpful." I replied.

"Right." She moved towards the exit. "Uh, Jozef? Sorry that your sister is such a bitch."

I didn't respond to that, instead retreating to the command throne. To be fair, the reason for my lack of response was forgetting her almost immediately and only remembering her statement when she flickered her power a few minutes later.

It wasn't a great note to end on, but at least it came from an honest place. My family drama wasn't over, but I had probably kicked it down the road a bit. At least I got something out of it. Aura would be huge if I could get a handle on it, and Alena's call had pulled back a lot of the bullshit I'd been using to distract myself.

On top of that I had new skills to manage. My personal combat skill was significantly better, but the real kicker was the physical sciences. The level of biological and chemical knowledge contained in that ability was breathtaking. It could make a real difference in trying to help Weld and other Case 53s.

It also further expanded my Alchemy lab with a bunch of chemistry equipment that looked like it came out of Star Trek.

All that would be a project for later, like so many things that had built up. Right now I needed a shower, some food and sleep. At least my powers ensured that those would be pleasant. Food and sleep. I could deal with the rest of this tomorrow.

---

Addendum Mike

Mike walked down the familiar path. It hardly seemed to have changed. It must have, but his mind wasn't connecting to the differences in details that had built up over the years. It was a blur of recollection plastered on top of the landscape, dragging him into the past.

When was the last time he had been here? All he could think was after Jess's funeral. He knew he must have walked this path, approached this door, at some point after that, but it wasn't coming to mind. That was cemented as his final memory of this place, his last recollection before moving on to another life.

He pushed aside old memories and closed the final distance. At the sound of the doorbell he could hear feet moving from inside, the twitch of a curtain, then saw the door swing open.

The girl in the doorway was older than he remembered, but that was the cost of years. He smiled down at his niece as she looked at him in confusion.

"Hi Vicky."

The young woman took a second to process things, and he could watch them fall into place through the shifts in her expression. There was the flickering uncertainty in the back of his mind, the effect of her emotion power deciding how to express itself.

"Uncle… Mike?"

He smiled at her and in an instant she had launched herself off the doorstep and engulfed him in a hug. Luckily Vicky wasn't one of those brutes who went around accidently crushing her family with every hug, but he could tell there was an emotional weight behind this. Things weren't right. He should have come back sooner.

"It's good to see you too." He assured her. "Are your parents home."

Vicky broke the hug and floated back down. He could tell how agitated she was with a glance. "Mom's upstairs. Dad's out." She looked back at him. "He's been doing a lot of night patrols, you know, with the city like this…"

She trailed off and he didn't push it. He'd seen the transcripts. He knew damn well why Mark would want to be out of the house. He only hoped the man didn't do something stupid when out there without support. It worried him, but he had other things to deal with.

"Oh, please come in." Vicky stepped back, and then cringed at the state of the house. He knew what it meant. Carol was a much bigger control freak than he was, and worse, unlike himself, she was completely oblivious to that particular character flaw. If she let the house deteriorate into this level of clutter things were really off the rails. "Can I get you anything?"

He gave her the most sympathetic smile he could manage, and the teenage girl relaxed slightly. "Don't worry about me. It's great to see you, but I just need to talk to your mom."

Vicky nodded. "She'd up in her office. Do you…"

"Thanks, I remember the way." Vicky showed him up anyway. It was concerning. He knew her boyfriend had been transferred. With Amy in containment and Mark avoiding the house she only had Carol. Mike wouldn't wish that fate on anyone.

The girl knocked on the pretentious oak door of the home office. Just what a lawyer would need, a way to isolate themselves in work when they couldn't physically get away. She cracked open the door, showing a darkened office lit only by a table lamp.

That is darkened to most people. Not to him. That wonderful little note in his PRT file. Thinker 0, night vision. Nobody looked deeper than that. They figured it was the same as what you'd get from a pair of army surplus goggles. Mike was never in any hurry to enlighten them.

To him the room, well he wouldn't say it was fully lit because that didn't mean anything to him. He couldn't just see in the dark. He could see despite the dark. Nothing was ever hidden, shadowed, gloomy, or the least bit obscured. In bright sunlight he could make out as much detail on the side of an object that caught the light as on the side opposite from it.

If anything, for him light was a hindrance. It was glare when he didn't need it. He could see perfectly without it, something Beth found amusing, how when he was home alone he would forget to turn on a single light until she got back with the kids. She always said it looked like a blind person lived with them. Really nothing could be further from the truth.

Looking into the office he could see every detail of his sister's frantic work. The scattered files, the forgotten coffee cups, the obvious shifting of computer and office equipment to facilitate a desperate work blitz. Everything she was attempting to keep some measure of control over her life.

"Mom?" Vicky called into the office. Carol's face perked up from the desk. "Uncle Mike's here?"

His niece's voice was cherry and hopeful, but he could see Carol shared none of those feelings. This wasn't a warm family welcome, but he'd gotten used to the fact that they would never have that. It was a big part of why he left. Not as big as Jess, but with Carol and Sarah he hoped they might work something out, but no. That wasn't them.

She probably thought the shadows hid her face as she composed a mask of emotions to conceal her reaction at his arrival. He was used to seeing through that. People did things in the dark they would never do in the light. He'd be inclined to make some comment about their true faces coming out, but that wasn't him. It wasn't poetry, just human nature, private moments on display for him and no one else.

"Mike." Her voice was as professional as she could make it. "What a surprise."

"Hey Carol." He took a step into the room as she rose from the desk. She tried to hide a look of annoyance at his act, but he was beyond caring. He wasn't that boy who would tiptoe around his traumatized sisters, terrified of somehow setting them off. Not anymore, though those behaviors had been hard to break, especially when Carol learned to expect them.

She moved around the desk, but wasn't able to stop him from taking a position inside the office. There was a look of annoyance and he could tell she was trying to figure out how to get him out, first out of the office, then out of the house, then probably out of the city.

She looked to be about to say something, but he cut her off by turning to Vicky. "I need to talk to your mom for a bit. Can you give us a moment?"

Vicky smiled, that emotion flowing off her practically filling him with light. "Sure, Uncle Mike. I'll go make some tea."

She closed the door and Mike heard her feet move down the stairs. He raised an eyebrow at his sister. "You drink tea now?"

"No." She replied, as if the stink of stale coffee in the room wouldn't be enough to convey that. "She's looking for something to keep her occupied. The last few days have been hard on her."

"Yeah, they seem to have been hard on a lot of people." His sister shot him a challenging glance, but with the airport bombed he'd had to fly into Concord and drive in. That had given him a street view of the docks, and the impact the bombs and looting had on them. He was willing to broaden his sympathy beyond his immediate family.

"What do you want Mike? Why are you here?" Direct and as cold as ever.

"Officially, relief force." His sister raised an eyebrow. "I've done some work with the local police and PRT, support work. Call went out for Brockton, I signed up."

"So what, you're back in the game?" She spat. "Taking back everything you said when you left?"

She was trying to dig up memories of Jess, memories of the aftermath. He'd had time to prepare for this. He wasn't going to let her get to him.

"I help out the way I help out. It works for what it is." He put a harsh inflection on the end of his statement and he could tell Carol picked up his meaning.

She let out a sigh. "I don't need this now. Whatever your playing at, whatever you're trying to pull, I don't need it. You don't know what I'm going through."

"Oh, I think I might." He smiled as she looked up at him.

"The transcript." She growled.

"PRT affiliate. And that thing has made the rounds." He watched as she glared at him, waiting. Waiting for the accusation, the condemnation, the character attacks and 'I told you so'. Waiting for the moment when he would rub her failure, the failure of the entire venture, that he called years ago, in her face.

It didn't come. Watching that realization play out, the knowledge that not only has she fucked up publicly and undeniably, but her 'fuck up' brother wasn't even calling her on it, it was wonderful. Being the bigger person could actually be a deeply satisfying experience.

Carol let out a long breath and leaned back against the desk, exhaustion practically dripping off her.

"You're not here to rub it in, and you're not here to help." He didn't even bother trying to correct her on that point. "Why are you here?"

This was the moment where the real satisfaction would come. He did his best not to be overly blatant about it.

"Amy called me."

Carol's eyes shot open and she launched herself away from the desk. "What?" Her voice was a half screech and her eyes were manic.

"She phoned me when she was getting her cast taken off, before the debrief." He replied calmly and directly.

"Damn it Mike, don't you know what happened? She was exposed to influence. She could have been… set up? Coerced to make that call. You should have reported it, not flown half way across the country."

He had. He'd checked in with his local office, gone through full screening, even spent a night under observation, with apologies from the director for the excessive handling. The Brockton paranoia was becoming something of a running joke in other departments, which wasn't helping the city get support when it desperately needed it.

"I've been checked and cleared, and I think you know those accusations are excessive." That was a particularly sharp barb, considering Carol had set off the evaluation that started this whole mess. The more the locals tried to blame Apeiron for everything the worse they looked on the national stage, with New Wave being at the center of the circus.

Carol chewed on her lip as she considered her next move. "What did she want? What was the call about?"

He had the sense this was more damage control than concern, but he dove in anyway. "She wanted to know about her father, and what happened between him and New Wave."

The color drained from Carol's face. "Mike, you can't…"

He cut her off. "I promised her when I got a chance I'd fly out and tell her, face to face."

"Why?" She half begged. "Why would you promise something like that? You know what it could mean."

"What could it mean Carol?" He asked. "You think Amy's going to go off the handle if she finds out who her father is? You should have told her years ago. You." His sister bristled under the accusation. "Or are you worried about the rest of the story? What it will mean if people find out New Wave's biggest collar happened because they broke into a house and nearly killed a six year old girl?"

"Mike, you can't do this." She spoke it more as a command than a request. It was a tone that brought up unpleasant memories from his childhood.

"It needs to be done. What, do you want me to hold off for the sake of the team? You think that's going to make a difference now?" New Wave ended when Jess died, when they lost Fleur. After that the initiative was over. No one took it seriously. They were just another corporate team with a public identity gimmick.

"No Mike, I mean you can't do this. I won't let you." Carly corrected, that haughtiness creeping into her tone. "Amy is my daughter. I can keep you from speaking to her."

"You're serious?" He asked. "That's the card you're playing? Right here? Right now?"

"I'll do what I need to protect this team and family." She spat. "I'm actually willing to make those sacrifices."

"Sacrifices." His voice was cold. "You're talking to me about sacrifices?"

The tiniest shade of regret flickered across his sister's face. "Mike, we all loved Fleur..."

"Jess. I loved Jess. You loved how she played peacemaker between us. She was holding this mess together and you didn't even notice. No surprise there." He felt his blood rising, and focused to keep it under control.

"Don't do this Mike, not now." She couldn't have sounded more condescending if she tried.

"We should have taken Amy." He spat.

"What?" She gasped. "You? You weren't ready. You were just kids. You barely had a job, you weren't even married."

"We could have made it work." He countered. "We talked about it, after you and Sarah had made the decision for everyone. Jess wanted to challenge you, I said you knew what you were doing."

He put as much accusation on the final word as he could muster.

"Mike." Carol drew herself up as far as she could. He'd been taller than her since his mid-teens, but she always held onto the idea that she could tower over him. "You will not be speaking with Amy."

"I think you'll find…" He pulled out a document. "…that I will."

The paper was snatched out of his hand and her eyes darted over it.

"You're working for the Youth Guard now?" She accused.

He shook his head. "They're just overseeing things. This is a M/S evaluation." At the confused expression he continued. "They need to evaluate what portion of the readings were due to external influence as opposed to personal concerns. They want a new set of tests after Amy learns the truth."

He could see her mind spinning. "That means…"

"That means it'll be in an official record. The whole thing, out in the light, forever."

"Mike, don't do this. There… there are other things in play. I can't talk about them, but you don't know what's going to happen. Think about what this will do to Amy."

"I already told her she can stay with me and Beth if she wants. The kids want to finally meet their cousin, and I think she could use some time away."

"No." Carol snapped. "She can't go now. Not with everything happening."

"I think that's exactly the time she needs to get away." He answered calmly. "If this city can't stand for a few days without Amy propping it up then then it clearly has bigger problems. And it will be her choice. She's old enough to make those now."

His sister's expression shifted to a look of pure scorn. "Does Beth know about this? That you're trying to make things up to your old girlfriend? Is she alright with this?"

Mike steeled himself. "She loves the idea. Beth's the most supportive person I've ever met."

"Well, she'd have to be."

He gave Carol a hard look before speaking. "I'm meeting with Amy tomorrow afternoon, in case you want to check in on your daughter. I know Vicky would appreciate seeing her."

"Vicky is not going anywhere near this mess." Carol declared.

Mike took a breath. Of course, couldn't tarnish Carol's perfect image. Though looking at her now, that didn't seem tall a pedestal as it used to.

"I should go. It was nice seeing you Carol." He turned towards the door.

"I wish I could say the same."

The crudeness of the barb made him pause. It was less elegant than Carol's usual attempts. Things really were falling apart.

Well, that had been the case for years. There was just no papering over the cracks anymore. The team wouldn't last, there was pretty much no hope of that. He worked his way down stairs and said his goodbyes to Vicky. Her bewildered look was amplified by the uncertainty of that aura. He hated leaving her, but she was in a better place than most of the family. He still had to check in with Sarah. From what he heard things were even worse there.

He sighed as he stepped out into a night that held no secrets, not from his eyes. Family was complicated, powers just made it worse.

Jumpchain abilities this chapter:

Lack of Materials (God of War) 400:

Times are tough in this land. Forces beyond knowing, monsters that roam the lands, and gods who are as petty as they are powerful. With chaos such as this, there are times you may not be able to get everything of what you need. But you've learned to make do. You can get the most out of your materials, using two bars of metal where you might need four, or three hides when you needed six. Of course, if you DO have all the materials required you can use them to make your creations more effective in quality and capability as well. So maybe it doesn't hurt to put the extra mile in.

Analysis (Adventure Time) 300:

You have the skill and insight to make powerful analytical tools. Such tools are capable of showing you the physical makeup of the things you come across, detect magic and alert you to hidden doorways.

Skills: Physical Sciences (Star Trek - TNG+DS9) 100:

Understanding of the natural laws which govern the physical world. Biology, chemistry, geology and ecology. Again, you may want to rewrite a few of these books while you're here.

Skills: Combat (Star Trek - TNG+DS9) 100:

Hand to hand fighting is an ancient and quintessential skill for every soldier no matter what time period.