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.

65. 50 Meantime

50 Meantime

Stepping out of the workshop and back into the city felt strange. Well, it felt strange in that it didn't feel strange, if that makes any sense. I had essentially been sequestered in the workshop from the end of my fight with Lung, and had needed to be hauled back while barely conscious. With everything I had gone through since that moment, every personal change, revelation, and action that impacted myself and the world at large it felt like actually stepping out into the world, reemerging, should have carried some great weight.

Instead, it was like every other time I had walked across that threshold. I stepped out from the safety and security of my workshop and into the back rooms of Garment's studio. There was no crash of power or tremor of the earth heralding the action. Any significance to the act was mine and mine alone.

It wouldn't have been so bad if the expectations for the moment had played out in private, but unfortunately I had an audience. Garment had joined me on my way out and had been privy to the entire spectacle, including the apprehension at the threshold and the clear pause when my foot touched down outside the workshop. With my expanded understanding of fashion, I could tell how amused she was by the situation.

"Fine, I get it." I groused. "Forgive me for thinking this was a big moment." Garment clearly indicated she had no problem with my actions and actually found them quite endearing. "Yeah, sure." I sighed and looked back at the workshop door.

From the outside the holograms installed at the entrance created the impression of a rather unimpressive janitor's closet, and not a particularly appealing one. An interesting feature of the rounds of upgrades was a simple program that adapted the projected image to the environment around the door. In most situations it would be a janitor's closet, but could be anything from a defunct transformer vault to a storage room to a collection of worn-out landscaping equipment. Always blending in with the environment and always designed to be as uninteresting and uninviting as possible.

The layered force fields and security systems clustered around the entrance were the best I was capable of producing, and now actually included magical barriers thanks to talisman magic. It made leaving the workshop open for long periods of time as safe a prospect as possible. That was a feature of the place that was something of a balancing act. Having the workshop open meant having access to my computer systems and technical support, as well as the ability to call on my duplicates if I needed them. Keeping it closed meant I could access it in the case of an emergency. Unlike when I had been operating out of my apartment there was actually good cause for leaving a stationary access point.

"I'm going to head down to the gym. I'll leave the workshop open in case you need anything." Garment expressed her gratitude as we moved out into the studio area of her shop. The vast majority of the outfits that had adorned the space were missing, packed up and shipped off to New York for the upcoming charity auction.

From Garment's behavior I could tell how significant the decision to part with them was. Early works had a special significance. Even if they didn't compare technically to what could be produced later in your career, there was an emotional connection to the act of creating them. As much as I had joked about 'three-day old technology' being meaningless, I still valued everything I made, and I knew Garment felt the same way about her work.

It was why I was leveraging everything I could to make sure the event was a success. Well, I was leveraging things from the shadows, setting up situations that could be advantageous for Garment by drawing on the insanely comprehensive amount of business knowledge that had come with Talented: Tailoring. The actual nuts and bolts of the arrangements had been put in place by Survey under her identity of Delphine Mertens. During the early stages of arranging the charity event there had been a handful of offers of assistance to facilitate things that were borderline insulting in their terms and arrangements. Offers that essentially amounted to three quarters of the proceeds being consumed by nebulous expenses and what amounted to Garment paying for the privilege.

Those had been shot down quite brutally, probably to a greater degree than I would have, but Survey was able to instantly assess the scope of what was being proposed and found it fundamentally insulting. That was a sentiment she was more than happy to convey in her responses under her alter ego. It seemed that Ms. Mertens was developing a reputation as someone not to be trifled with. Survey was quite proud of that, though the increased visibility had required some work to shore up the electronic evidence of her identity. Fortunately, the new computer system made such action trivial on a level that I could barely refer to it as 'hacking'. The new trail would hold to even the most determined of conventional searches, and probably the majority of parahuman abilities as well.

"Are you going to move some of your newer stuff up here?" I asked, looking at the mostly empty space. Despite being nearly empty it still held a sense of elegance. There was a limit to the level of alterations that could be made to the shop, but the duplicates had taken things as far as they could. Anything not documented in the lease agreement or inspection report was overhauled. The broad aesthetics of the building were held while upgrading the substance substantially. The interior was rearranged just enough to avoid being obvious while improving the flow, lighting, sightlines, and a hundred other tiny details that escaped consciousness notice but made a world of difference when they were accounted for. The result wasn't anywhere near my best work, but it was a space Garment could be happy in, and her gestures made that sentiment clear.

"Right. Just avoid any of the really obvious tinker textiles, and anything magical. We don't want to raise any concerns." Garment indicated she had more than enough conventional fashions waiting to see the light of day and was perfectly happy keeping the more advanced works for a special reveal. I wasn't sure when the opportunity for something like that would present itself, but I suspected Garment was still holding out hope for the chance to premier colors from the Prismatic Laboratory in some form.

Well, even with my duplicates' tendency to indulge her, I could trust they would take that place seriously. Not just because of the souls, but because of the implications of the unstable physical laws on which the Laboratory seemed to operate. I was still dealing with the massive implications generated by something as comparatively mundane as Calling Card. I didn't want to think about the impact the release of seven reality warping colors would have.

I left Garment to her thankfully conventional work and slipped towards the back door of the shop. A brief moment of focus brought me in contact with my now greatly expanded subspace pocket. Previously the extradimensional space had been carved out with the emulated cybertonium of Matrix's nanobots and was barely large enough to hold my motoroid and a full set of cape equipment. Now I was using real cybertonium, meaning cybertonium with every enhancement and alteration I could manage folded into it. I was also working with substantially more powerful computer systems and sensors, to the point where I could properly assess the process of constructing an extradimensional space rather than my previous groping in the dark.

The result was an amount of storage that could effectively cover nearly any need I could encounter. Storing and dispatching large vehicles was a possibility, but generally I was just enjoying easy access to any equipment I could need carried around in a discreet and secure location.

Well, mostly secure. March's attack had wrecked everything I had stored in my previous subspace pocket. I didn't know if that power actually hit every universe, but it was at least capable of reaching the chunk of trans warp space that I had used for storage. Just another thing about that encounter that I hadn't seen coming, and that had put me in a more desperate situation than I ever imagined. I wanted to take some relief in the fact that it was behind me, but the lack of a body concerned my passenger in a way that no assessment of March's injuries or survival chances could put to rest.

Crippling pain and blinding rage hadn't exactly been the best situation for monitoring the emotional link to my passenger. It hadn't been until after things had calmed down that I realized he had been trying to redirect my focus to March. Apparently making sure she was put down for good was a bigger priority than whatever threat level Lung was ramping up to.

In retrospect, if I could have withdrawn it would probably have been for the best. Lung had only reached that level because of the extended conflict between us. Being able to get out and come back anywhere near a functional level would have rendered the threat he could have posed largely irrelevant. Even the consequences of Oni Lee still being active and Lung still being a force in the city would probably have been worth avoiding the aftermath.

Or not. Really, there's no telling how things could have turned out if I had taken one different approach or another. Avoiding the ambush and focusing on other forces would probably have seen the ABB's remaining assets and capes go to ground. With March still in play and a desperate Bakuda plus the practical threat of Oni Lee and the reputation of Lung backing them it could have just seen a replay of the events a few days later. Or not. Dwelling on could-have-been scenarios wouldn't do any good. I wasn't going to let myself get caught like that again, and the ABB were now crippled. That was enough of a win for the moment.

My focus drew an item from my subspace pocket into the world around me, manifesting as an outline of white light before filling in with a flash. The elven cloak manifested around my head and shoulders, settling perfectly the instant it was drawn from trans warp space.

That was one of the biggest advantages of how the storage was structured. I could draw from it and store items instantly and in perfect alignment. My costume could be summoned in an instant, fully equipped and ready for battle. Additionally, any other item I needed could be called into place, either drawn to my hand or already positioned for use. It was a phenomenal amount of security to be carrying with me, and served to quash any fears about returning to the city as a civilian.

The elven cloak was equally reassuring, even with the recent knowledge of its origins. Without knowing it I had been essentially making versions of the cloaks gifted to the Fellowship by Galadriel. The fact that I had been casually producing items of that level of provenance had been shocking, and really put the power of Elven Enchanting in perspective. Oh, the workmanship of one of the Noldor? Personal craft by the hand of the Lady of Lórien, ringbearer of Nenya and mightiest of the elves of Middle Earth? Yeah, that was entry level for that power. The starting point from where I had been building up.

It was still crazy to know about the origins of these powers, and more than a little disconcerting. The fact that I had a point of reference for the abilities usually made them harder to deal with, not easier. Still, the way the eyes of other pedestrians glided past me as I stepped onto the street couldn't be denied. Elven cloaks could camouflage against unfriendly eyes. Mine started at that level, then saw enhancements from about a half dozen other powers until the effect reached a point that was probably close to what Aisha experienced with her power active.

That thought reminded me that I was probably due for a check in with her. Aisha had spent the first part of my 'vacation' sleeping off the effects of that hellish night and the rest of it trying to get back on something like a normal schedule while reconnecting with her father and brother. I didn't want to ask any pressing questions, but I had the sense things were improving on that front to some extent. I mean, a blind person could have picked up the tension between Mr. Laborn and Aisha from their first appearance. It was good to know that roping Aisha into this mess of cape work hadn't caused her family life any significant stress.

I was making my way down the street when I felt the Forge connect to a familiar mote from the Quality constellation. A very familiar mote. Really, a mote that was starting to become excessively familiar.

Once again, the Forge made a double connection to Minor Blessing and Unnatural Skill. That particular power seemed to be a near bottomless well of possibilities and really it was probably only the comparatively inexpensive nature of the power in terms of required reach along with the reduction in other possibilities that saw it connect so often. Given the weight and variety of other powers available it felt like I should complain, but once again, the significance of what was granted overshadowed any possible objections.

With this connection I had received a minor blessing from Hera. That's Hera as in queen of the gods Hera. Goddess of marriage, motherhood, and family. I had received her blessing, and didn't even need to carry her across a river and lose a sandal in the process.

Though maybe that would save me from being crushed to death by my own ship. Yeah, Greek mythology wasn't particularly kind to its heroes.

So far all the blessings I'd received had at least something to do with the nature of the Celestial Forge. There were a thousand possibilities for what a blessing could grant, but they always seemed to align with the nature of what the Forge was focused on, accomplishing great works. Athena's craftsmanship was as direct a blessing as possible. Hestia's flames may have had other applications, but they fundamentally expanded my knowledge of fire and forging. Even the expanded knowledge that came from Artemis's blessing still had a core of the essence and concept of what it was to make a bow nestled at the heart of the ability.

Hera was not exactly known for making things, unless you counted children. So, what blessing did the Celestial Forge grant me from the goddess of marriage, motherhood, and family?

The blessing of Administration.

It was the last thing I would have expected, but also a boon that was entirely appropriate, and one I was very grateful to have. Anyone who had even worked on a group engineering project knew where that sentiment was coming from. It was an experience that made herding cats seem trivial by comparison. I had seen some of the most intelligent people I'd ever met fall apart at the prospect of managing who was responsible for what, by when, and with a side of how was it supposed to come together.

Hera was the queen of the gods. Hera had offered Paris dominion over Europe and Asia. Hera had an inherent dominion over the concepts of bonds, sovereignty, and organization. Hera's blessing wasn't concerned with the mechanics of a crafting project. It was focused on making sure the project could actually be completed.

It was like my expanded logistical powers from Shipping the Product, only more focused. A blessing to what was essentially project management. A blessing for keeping track of the effects in play and balancing them against your goals. A blessing to see that work was actually completed, that resources were properly accounted for and utilized, and that people involved were motivated, encouraged, and valued.

It was honestly the last thing I expected from a powerset that at times seemed devoted to sitting in isolation churning out technology or magical items. Something that actually encouraged connections and resources beyond what could be leveraged from my own reserves, something that opened up entirely new possibilities for me.

I would have to make sure I built a very nice shrine for Hera. The active link to my duplicates informed me that they were already on it, and included their reflection on the other power that had been bundled in the cluster.

I took a moment to review what was now my fourth Unnatural Skill. Unnatural Skill: Transmutation. The art of turning something into something else. Considering the sheer number of abilities I had that fell into that category, and how powerful many of them already were, this was a very significant power.

The projection magic I had used was drawn from Thaumaturgical Focus: Transmutation and the entire field was suddenly brimming with new possibilities. Likewise, every form of transmutation-based alchemy, from circles and arrays to the arts of alkahestry, all suddenly became clearer, easier to use, and more powerful. Ideas for new potions were brimming in my mind, including a rather extensive range of methods for turning people into animals. Considering the apparent Greek origins of these abilities and the fact that I had both Alchemy and Transmutation it was probably a safe bet that I'd cracked that potion that Circe was famous for.

It wasn't just magic that was seeing the impact of that power. I held a hand under my cloak and focused. With a tiny pulse of will I felt my hand shift. Claws took the place of my fingernails and bristly brown fur spread over my skin. The entire appendage grew disproportionate to the rest of my body, taking on the form it held during my inostrancevia zoanthrope transformation. With an equally simple action, the equivalent of relaxing a muscle, it shifted back.

I was capable of minor manifestations of my zoanthrope form. What's more, I could potentially push that form beyond the bounds of its original limits, taking it from a melee powerhouse to something truly monstrous. The transformation was easier as well. What used to be a major effort was now as natural as breathing. There was potential to work the transformation, either in its partial or complete form, into my combat style.

'That's impressive, but the real gem is the Harry Potter magic.' One of my duplicates had linked through my implant and was broadcasting from the magic lab. Well, the now expanded magic/science/magitech lab. I hadn't bothered to explore the place before I left for the gym, but it seemed my duplicates had been in the process of upgrading the equipment when the latest power arrived. As a consequence, they were both perfectly positioned with their own copies of my wand to begin exploring the new ability.

'By the looks of things, transmutation is treated the same as transfiguration, at least for all effects that matter.' The second duplicate linked a set of readings showing a trivial early transformation from the book series. A wand was touched to a matchstick and before my eyes and every sensor in the lab it shifted into a silver pin. 'A lot of concepts that we weren't sure of or were deemed too dangerous are coming together now. We can actually start working through the example spells, and seeing where we can develop things from there.'

'Also,' the second chimed in, 'in this system, charms are basically the same thing as enchantments. Adding properties to something with magic. Between the last two Unnatural Skill powers we've covered all the actual spellcasting classes they have at Hogwarts. We can actually start piecing together the magic system properly.'

I smiled as I continued down the street and messaged them through my own implant. 'So, you're going to be working through that?'

'Pretty much.' The first replied. 'This was always a priority, and the potential has skyrocketed with the prospect of reliable spells that aren't feather level without familiar or striker support.'

'Most of the kinsect analysis can be managed by Survey. We also want to let the Laboratorium finish picking over the tech in the Bright Spear before we start upgrading or modifying it.' He transferred a recording of the exuberant reaction from various skulls and machine spirits as they presented the one of the duplicated Bright Spears and informed the Laboratorium that it was approved for destructive testing. It was like watching a class full of kindergarteners react to a visit from someone dressed as Santa.

Between supporting that testing, working through potential spells, updating the workshop databases with the technology and principles from The Divine Machines, and managing the rest of the effects from my recent Unnatural Skills the duplicates would probably be more than occupied through their duration. Counting their 20% time it would take me most of the way to lunch, meaning I could put in a good morning's work helping out at the gym and catching up with Doug on the state of things.

Once I was a few blocks away from Garment's shop, in the direction of my old apartment, I ducked into one of the area's abundant side alleys. I took a moment to make sure I wasn't being observed. My sense of the Dragon's Pulse had slightly improved, but it didn't see the same level of increase from Unnatural Skill: Transmutation as it did from Unnatural Skill: Alchemy. I wasn't sure if that was because of potential overlap between the abilities, or because transmutation was more focused on the direct expressions of Alkahestry rather than its supporting abilities.

The important thing was I could use it to detect the presence of any living thing in the area, and my demigod granted technology sense could flag any cameras or recording equipment. Combining that with the ability of my sensors to detect magic, I could rule out any clairvoyance or similar thinker powers being active. With everything combined I was able to be absolutely sure I wasn't being watched as I shifted my cloak back into my subspace pocket.

With the excessively secure method of separating myself from being associated with Garment complete, I slipped out of the alley and back onto the street, turning towards the gym. Without the cloak I found myself focusing on my stride and the movements of my body. The magic of the fox talisman was more than enough to conceal the extraordinary parts of my build and appearance, but there were other factors I needed to account for.

I was already contending with the effects of Classy Contortionist ensuring, regardless of the situation, I was going to hold my body in a way that looked good. Usually, if I wasn't trying to use it for any purposes it would stay at a level minor enough to avoid drawing attention. However, that was before I had gotten Efficiency. With that power in place every movement was conducted in the most streamlined and precise manner possible. It was a thoroughly unnatural method of movement, one that permeated every action I took. In combat, acrobatics, or spellcasting it was a blessing. In normal society it was apparent and unnerving.

Moving through the city, I had to make a conscious effort to moderate my steps and the movements of my body, keeping them at a level that seemed normal rather than unnaturally smooth. It actually wasn't as difficult as it might seem. Efficiency even allowed perfect efficiency of inefficiency, and wasn't that a contradiction. Regardless, moving through the city I had a portion of my focus devoted to making sure I came across as a normal person, not an obvious cape.

Even without considering the moderation of my movements, it was weird being back out in the open air after having spent such a comparatively long time working through reports and secondhand accounts. I never really stopped interacting with the city, but I'd been cut off in a specific sense. Being out on the street, through the neighborhood I'd lived in since I moved out of Captain's Hill, it made me feel connected to things again.

The area was fairly busy for a Saturday. Given recent events I'm not sure previous metrics of activity were of any real use, but it definitely had more of an 'early workday' feel than any sense of a weekend. As expected, the gym seemed to have once again become the social nexus of the neighborhood.

That was something I was still getting used to. Before the recent events the gym had never been what I would consider a community hot spot. At best it was a fixture, a known quantity. It was a place with a stable membership that didn't cause any trouble and maintained relations with the surrounding area that were neutral to perhaps mildly positive at best. Hell, I'd been at least tangentially aware of it for most of my time here and never regarded it as anything other than 'that place where the over-built guys hung out'.

It was probably like that for a lot of people, but the fact that the place had seen decades of use and the older residents of the neighborhood knew about it, and the people who ran it, seemed to have presented an opportunity. I don't know if anything would have come about without Garment deciding to take that first step, but it seemed having someone put their faith in you made everyone want to live up to the implied expectations.

Beforehand there had been what was probably a sense of ownership over the place. Maybe a bit of defensiveness, just enough to ensure that you could stake a claim and hold it. The way the gym approached membership and training standards was indicative of the type of stubbornness that kept people holding on in this city after more than a decade of continuous decline. The sense was less about the quality of the place and more that it was theirs, and they weren't going to let anything compromise that.

Now that sense of possessiveness remained, but it seemed to have expanded to a sense of ownership and obligation that went beyond the walls of the gym. What's more, there was something else there, something that was vanishingly rare in Brockton Bay. Pride. I doubted anyone would admit it, but after what the membership had managed on Saturday night, after the aftermath of the attacks, and especially after Garment's debut there was a slight change in the character of the place.

More of the members were showing up, and more often. They were bringing out branded apparel or duffle bags, some of them positively ancient in appearance. There seemed to be a kind of unofficial pecking order that was developing based on who had the oldest item displaying their affiliation. The membership spike that they had seen was really just the tip of the iceberg. Thanks to that report and the way it had been picked up online there were people all over the city who knew about the gym, what they had done and what they were doing for the neighborhood. It was something that the membership could be proud of.

Of course, getting closer it became clear that with pride came obligation. I couldn't actually see the figure of the elderly lady, but Mrs. Gartenberg's hand was evident in the flurry of activity around the entrance of the gym. The Magic constellation passed by as I picked my way through the crowd towards the front doors. The mass of people flowing in and around the gym had an unusual character to it. Following the first round of bombings there had been a sense of huddled security. The gym had been a refuge against the horrors of that night, literally for some people. Since then, it had gradually increased in prominence to a mainstay in the lives of people of the neighborhood. Less of a refuge and more of an anchor.

Looking at it now, and at the people who seemed to be relying on it, it felt more like a lifeline. It was probably the influence of the Dragon's Pulse that was putting me in touch with things. The last time I had dealt with a crowd like this I had lacked that particular source of insight. The presence of divine blessings dealing with home and family probably played a role as well.

Before there had been a sense of shock. People were seeing things collapsing around them and didn't know how to deal with it. The focus had been pushing through and trying to make it past the worst the city could throw at them.

Now there was hope, but not in an optimistic sense. It was the hope that things might be over, that they wouldn't get any worse than they already had. I had the sense a lot of people had passed their breaking point and it was only places like this that kept them going. It was the kind of thing that made me feel like crap for daring to enjoy myself while people were hurting, while at the same time being frustrated that I was limited in how I could respond. In not being able to do more than anonymous donations or assisting with Garment's charity auction.

Really, that was why I had leaned towards forms of 'recreation' that could at least be classified as training on some level. Taking a break for surfing or basketball when I knew the state of the city didn't sit right. Classifying it as development of new abilities, of things that would eventually help me put things right, that was more palatable. As much as I knew that I needed rest, needed to get my mind off the grind and the constant stress of trying to build up and manage everything, I couldn't accept that in the face of the disaster that had hit the city. And that was without getting into the horrible mix of shared blame I felt for the aftermath of Thursday's battle.

But dwelling on things wouldn't help. Honestly, what I could do here would barely help, but at least it was something. I tried to push those thoughts out of my mind and worked my way forward to the entrance. Even without the status that came with vintage branded gym attire it seemed the lanyard/membership card combination I'd been issued at Garment's debut event was still considered valid. That and looks of recognition from a few of the members I was familiar with let me slip into the gym without trouble.

Inside the space was in full 'community center' mode, though this time with a heavy dash of specialized food bank. I hadn't picked up on it from outside, but as soon as I passed the threshold the smell of baking was unmistakable. The same tables were set up as had been present before, only this time they were absolutely packed with baked goods, and by the looks of things mostly fresh from the oven. I couldn't spot Mrs. Gartenberg, but I recognized members of her inner circle working to manage the flow of foodstuff that seemed to be moving from the back entrance of the gym to the tables, then either to members of the public or out the front door in a steady stream.

Apparently this was what happened when you gave that woman several hundred pounds of anonymously donated flour, sugar, butter, and assorted baking supplies. Honestly, I imagined she would be able to find places to pass the supplies onto, not that she would take the donation as a personal affront. I fought my way through the melee, eventually managing to hunt down Doug in the midst of the chaos.

"Doug?" I called over the din, barely managing to get his attention. Upon seeing me his face lit up. Quickly he waved off a couple of the older members he'd been discussing things with and gestured towards the back rooms. I followed behind as he cleared a way through the mess, eventually working into the back halls, then the modest gym office, a place I'd only seen when filing my application and when Garment had met with Miss Militia and Dauntless. Oh, and when I'd subtly rewired the entire building's electricals under the cover of checking for power issues.

The room was considerably more cluttered than the last time I had seen it, and considering what Doug's approach to paperwork management was like, that was really saying something. I didn't miss the fact that most of the new clutter seemed to be application forms for the gym, mostly unprocessed by the looks of things. I may have underestimated how much impact the circulation of Garment's debut may have had.

Doug sank into the chair behind the desk and I could see a weight of exhaustion that he would never have let show in the ring. It was only for an instant before it solidified back into the hardened gristle and boot leather that seemed to define his character, but it was telling that even that much had slipped from the man.

"Joe, it's good to see you made it through alright. And good to have you here." He said. His eyes briefly darted to the door; the roar of the crowd still just audible behind it. "Good to have anyone here, honestly. It's a mess out there."

"I can see that." I said honestly. I could feel the intensity of the building even more clearly than the apparent mayhem suggested. "What can I do to help?"

Doug cracked a grin. "Well, you can start by giving me an excuse to get five minutes where I'm not expected to play foreman or dispatch officer for what we've got going on out there."

"Yeah…" I said. "I figured you'd be busy, but this really wasn't what I was expecting."

Talking to Doug in a one-on-one setting made the attention I was devoting to suppressing my Efficiency power all the more obvious. Every little apprehensive motion or moment of consideration had to be directed to prevent that power from glossing it over and smoothing it out. It was a decidedly uncomfortable sensation in that I needed to direct myself to act unnaturally in order to avoid coming across as unnaturally.

Doug sank back into his chair and let out a long breath before replying. "Nobody was expecting this. I mean, all of this. I've seen the city in some bad days before, but it's never gotten to this level." He shook his head. "I'd say we weren't set up for this, but with the way things have been that doesn't really matter. I've known some of those folks longer than you've been alive. We're just damn lucky that we were able to do something for them."

I glanced towards the main area of the gym and smiled. "Have to say, I never really pictured this kind of thing going on here."

"Ya got that right." He said with a grin. "Right place and right time to help, I suppose. I've just been trying to keep it going."

"About that…" I asked. "What's exactly going on out there?" Before the gym had basically seemed to serve as a kind of communal gathering point, a place with some stability and safety when the rest of the area was sorely lacking in both. What I'd walked through was closer to a distribution center than anything else, and was really the last thing I was expecting.

Doug made a dismissive gesture. "That's on Mrs. Gartenberg. Once she got her hands on that bakery stuff she went on the warpath." He saw my expression and elaborated. "Baking, nonstop since the early morning. Roped in everyone she could and is sending the stuff out to every shelter and kitchen she knows about."

I blinked. "I thought those places had regulations and stuff about accepting random food." It was the main reason I'd defaulted to non-perishables and base ingredients in my drops during the previous night.

"There are community kitchen policies and that kind of thing. She has the regulations down, and has done this kind of thing before." He glanced up. "Smaller scale, of course. Made a good point about the timing and importance." He sighed. "People need help now, not when the bigger places get moving, or when the government decides to send in people. First few days are when the pressure is the worst. It's when you can make the most difference."

I nodded. "I'm glad I could make it in. Sorry about yester-"

"Don't worry about it." Doug cut me off. "It's good that your friend's doing better. You've gotta look after your own house first, we all know that. Plenty of people are dealing with their own problems, and that needs to take priority." A hint of a smile crossed his face. "Even so, turnout has been great. Even had Laborn's boy pitching in after the attacks, and he barely bothers with the place anymore."

I smiled at that. It was good to know that things were working out with Aisha's brother. That was at least one less thing to be concerned about. "Is Mr. Laborn around?"

Doug let out a laugh. "God no. In his state, that man would kill himself trying to pitch in. He's handling calls and coordination from home, which should at least keep him out of the hospital for anything but blood pressure." The big man's smile widened. "Though I doubt he'll ever forgive me for hoisting off admin work onto him."

I returned the grin. "That sounds like Mr. Laborn alright." I paused as the Magic constellation passed by. "So, I should probably get out there? See how I can help?"

Doug made a placating gesture. "Give it another minute. Things aren't ready to fall apart just yet. While I've got you here, I wanted to talk to you about the work you did on that truck."

My mind flashed over that particular project, reviewing every action and potential point that could have revealed the influence of my powers in the work. I was almost certain I had covered things properly and ensured it would come across as mundane repairs, but I couldn't dismiss the possibility that something had slipped by.

"Was anything wrong with it?" I asked as neutrally as I could manage.

"Christ no, that was damn fine work." Doug exclaimed. "Drew won't shut up about how well it runs. By all accounts it's the most recent truck that can still run inside that blackout thing."

I started picking through the mechanics behind that. Of course compression ignition engines would be able to stay functional inside the I-field, but they would lose all of their supporting electronics. I could pick apart designs in my mind, piecing out the components that would fail and which ones were essential to operation. The tendency of older service vehicles to stay in operation had probably provided a decent number that would be able to move through the field largely without issue.

Doug continued, breaking me out of my musings. "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about. It might be a bit early to pitch this, but it's clear you've got a real talent for this kind of thing. Be a shame to let that go to waste." There was an implication attached to that phrase that I couldn't quite place. "By the looks of things there are hundreds of cars that got caught in that… whatever that was. From what I hear, the older ones can be patched up, but the newer ones need to be scrapped for parts." He straightened up and looked at me. "There's going to be basically no end of work for every mechanic in the city once things settle. They're going to need all the help they can bring on. If you're interested, I know a few places that could really use someone with your kind of skills."

I blinked, taking a moment to process things. This wasn't something I expected from Doug. Actually, I hadn't really expected anything. My main concern was not letting my power slip during the repair, not getting a career out of it. "Um, thank you. I hadn't really thought about it. I mean, with everything going on-"

"I get that." Doug broke in. "Things are bad out there. People tend to take whatever options they can get in a situation like this. I just wanted you to know that there's other choices available to you. Good choices."

The penny dropped and suddenly I felt incredibly embarrassed. I had realized I'd been giving the impression that some of my 'side work' was less than fully legal, but I didn't expect what apparently passed for an intervention by boxing gym standards.

"I really appreciate that Doug, but with everything that's going on…"

"I get it." He assured me. "Just keep it in mind once things settle. Having something to work towards can make a big difference. Trust me, I know."

"Thanks." I said. "Um, just to be up front, I don't actually have any qualifications for this kind of work. I mean, I have experience, and we covered the basics when I was in college, but I'm not licensed or anything."

"Don't worry about that." He said. "Some of these places, you can work towards your ASE certifications. It's the kind of thing that can really get you started, providing you work at it."

"I appreciate that. Really." I nodded to Doug.

"Great." He cracked a grin. "But I should probably get back out there. God knows how, but we need to figure out how to run this place as a baked goods distribution center."

When I got out into the thick of things I could honestly say Doug hadn't been understating the difficulty of the situation. It might have been manageable if the gym had shifted entirely over to managing the flow of baked goods, but it was still acting as a hostel and gathering place for the community. Some of that worked in that a portion of the flow of items was directed to the usual set of food tables and options breakfast/lunch/whatever meal people were actually on with the crazy schedules they were keeping. The rest of it was being sent out, and that introduced a whole new set of problems.

From what I could tell, Mrs. Gartenberg must have conscripted half the neighborhood into a kind of dispersed amateur-professional bakery. Regulations may have been looser with whatever 'community kitchen' guidelines they were operating under, but that didn't mean they were being careless with food safety. Anything that was unwrapped in the gym was shifted to the lunch tables, while everything else was thoroughly, if unprofessionally, wrapped, either plastic wrap, baggies, or closed paper bags.

The offerings were on the basic side, in that they were essentially 'mix and bake' items. The lack of elaborate pastries didn't make the offerings any less appealing or impressive. Really, it was the quantity and speed at which it seemed to have been produced that impressed me. Then again, I may have been at fault for that when I sent the supplies out. Given how much my powers reduce my need for raw materials I may have leaned a bit too far in the other direction when considering how someone would work without them.

It was glorious, barely contained chaos. And if I had come into it two hours earlier I would have been left with nothing to contribute but lending a strong back to aid the flow of goods. It was the kind of mess I had been exceedingly unprepared to deal with. I'd been able to help with Garment's debut thanks to an extended preparation period and the fact that it was almost entirely in line with what my style and design powers excelled at. This was more managing a massive and unexpected project with dozens of factors to consider and constantly shifting resources and goals. I would have been totally lost.

Would have. You know, if I hadn't just gotten a direct divine blessing specifically for this kind of thing. Sure, the intention may have been to allow me to facilitate construction projects, but it was by no means limited to certain kinds of administration. One comparatively minor power had turned a nightmare situation into something easily manageable.

Huh. I finally had people skills, and all it took was actual divine intervention. Yeah, that sounded about right.

I was taking a light touch with my divinely granted administration skills and supernatural logistical powers. That was a combination of both working to avoid being obvious in my actions, and not actually having any real authority in the situation. While it did seem that even among members that I didn't know personally I was recognized as 'that guy who's good at fixing things' that didn't really get anyone to defer to me, particularly not with Mrs. Gartenberg on her aforementioned warpath.

Instead, I moved around the periphery, helping out where I could and slowly nudging the general chaos into a more ordered and effective arrangement. The 'fix-it guy' reputation was a blessing and a curse in that respect. On one hand, it got me access to pretty much every part of the gym, usually to deal with some minor problem ranging everywhere from a loose table leg to the odd computer issue. With that the odd neutral suggestion of question about how things worked was generally enough to help sort out the mess of logistics, or at least help the people ostensibly in charge work out the problems themselves.

The down side was that meant I needed to do repair work, and I still had all the problems related to automatic power activation that I'd struggled with when working on the truck, only now with a dash of obviously supernatural speed mixed in. Any actual repair jobs were about 99% stalling followed by a flash fix and desperate attempt to downplay the secondary effects of my powers. Along with the random mess of tools I'd accumulated through my work, I started carrying cleaning supplies as a cover for the way Stylish Mechanic automatically cleaned anything I repaired.

As the day stretched from early to mid-morning things calmed down at the gym. It was still a flurry of activity, but it was directed, and, most importantly, not directed by me. There was still no sign of Mrs. Gartenberg, but from what I'd heard she'd set up camp at the largest kitchen she could find and was running it like a munitions factory. Things at the gym were managed by Doug and various people I'd recognized from Mrs. Gartenberg's circle. As things settled the gym slowly regained the community feel I'd seen after the initial attacks, in place of the frantic energy directed towards feeding half the city.

Well, not really. The volume that moved through the place seemed impressive, but I had an unfortunate understanding of the scale of the problem. There was no question that this effort was going to be appreciated and make a difference, particularly as roads into the city were still difficult to navigate thanks to damage from the attacks, not to mention the I-field, Dust trails, and occasional residual effect from Bakuda's bombs. Conventional delivery and supply routes were strained, so the previous night's supply drops and this morning's baking blitz were making a real difference. It was just that there was so much else to do.

It was a line of thinking I was struggling not to get trapped in, and I made my best attempt to hold it off as the Knowledge constellation missed a connection. Generally, it was easier to focus on the next task to avoid dwelling on the depth of the disaster or the amount of work that lay ahead of the city. It would probably help if I could hold any level of faith in the local authorities to step up, but that seemed to have been bogged down in politics and bureaucracy. Really, as was apparently typical for the Docks, there was a sense that they were in this on their own.

At least there was some moderate optimism and good humor, particularly when things became streamlined enough that you could actually stop moving for a few minutes without getting dirty looks from half of the building. I was taking a breather myself, though it was largely unnecessary given the modifications and enhancements to my body. I glanced over at the ring and found myself wondering when the gym would actually fall back into gym-activities. I doubted Doug was going to turn people away, but I also knew how long the recovery could drag out. I liked the atmosphere that had developed around the place, but I surprisingly found myself looking forward to being able to box again.

It was something that I had pretty much completely dismissed as a possibility. Even with the best disguise in the world I was inherently too fast, too strong, and too tough to even have a practice match without completely blowing my identity. However, that was before I'd received the Balance Bangle.

My duplicates had tested out the item and confirmed its effects. In terms of allowing me to blend in it wasn't perfect, but it was better than I'd be able to manage with any other combination of effects. All offensive and defensive supernatural abilities were shut down when the band was active. Physical abilities were dropped to 'peak human', which was still excessive for a neighborhood gym, but a hell of a lot better than trying to pass off my current level. It only covered supernatural skills, meaning the mundane aspects of my martial arts knowledge was still present. Still, if I stuck with boxing and didn't fully open up I was reasonably confident I could make it through my next class without giving myself away.

There was just the matter of the period of vulnerability that would introduce. Even now I had a divine forged piece of infused adamantium plate strapped to my shin, extending unfathomable durability through my entire body, enough to stop anything short of an annihilator effect. My watch was ridiculously upgraded, including multiple redundant defensive fields as well as a final, critical defense from the technology granted by my Fixer power. In the event that anything actually penetrated my durability to even the most microscopic degree, the displacer field would activate and teleport me out of harm's way.

That teleportation would function by dragging me through a warped region of heavily chaotic space that made any attempt to accurately direct yourself wishful thinking at best. Still, a random teleport was infinitely preferable to eating another attack on the level of March's explosion.

It wasn't an absolutely perfect defense. Attacks that were omnidirectional or that affected my entire body at once could theoretically bypass it, but anything based on an effect moving from one point to another could be bypassed. Even the Siberian wouldn't be able to do more than scrape of a micron of matter before the field pulled me away. As anti-annihilator effects went, being effectively Siberian proof was a damn good standard.

Through my link to my Workshop, I registered my duplicates taking their twenty percent time and had to surpass a groan. The expanded proficiency with enchanting and extensive practice with wand magic had led them to a desire to 'improve' on the endeavors of the previous duplicates. Specifically, their heavily off-brand attempt at Quidditch.

As far as wand magic was concerned, charms were a form of enchanting. It was the act of imposing new properties onto something, not through any alteration of form, but through a purely magical expression. While the different types of magic I could use varied wildly there were still consistent elements between them, particularly when it came to the process of binding magic to an object.

The fact that I was an empowered demigod specializing in such craft certainly didn't hurt matters.

Through the combination of my sensors and magitech lab we had the capacity to carefully monitor the flow and behavior of magic both during enchanting and general spellcasting. With that as a reference, supported by Survey's analysis and the full breadth of all resources available on the source material while also nudged along by truly unnatural skills for the art, my duplicates had managed to cover an amount of theory that would have taken years of academic work.

I would have been more impressed by their enthusiasm for the work if it weren't so blatantly clear what they were working towards. Just from the Forge granted talent and a short period of study they would never have been able to manage it, but when it came to creating things I was well beyond what any single power could manage. As such, with the magical skill of, and the fact that I had to use this comparison still felt insane, a second year Hogwarts student, they had managed to build a broom. Several brooms. And a full set of Quidditch balls. My duplicates were taking their 20% time as an opportunity to play the first game of 'proper' Quidditch, though still only one-on-one.

I shook my head as the reports flowed in from Survey. I had little doubt this would spill over to a repeat of Giant Robot Basketball the moment they could figure out how to get a nanobot avatar mounted on a racing broom.

As my duplicates dove into their 20% time I spotted one of the recent members of the gym taking an opportunity for a break from the earlier chaos. This was remarkable for two reasons. First, the vast majority of people who signed up in the wake of Garment's publicity event had either been driven off by the tender ministrations of Doug or one of the other coaches, and second, they weren't the kind of crowd you'd expect to show up when the place shifted to neighborhood charity mode. The fact that this person had done both would have been a mark in his favor even if my passenger wasn't buzzing like crazy about him.

After weighing my options, including my passenger's history of reliability and his general enthusiasm for this event I made my decision and moved to introduce myself.

"Hey," I greeted the red-faced boy. "Theo right? Thanks for helping out today."

He looked up from the bench he was half collapsed on as I offered him a bottle of water. With quiet gratitude he accepted the bottle, fumbled with the cap, then made an honest attempt to pour the entire thing down his throat in one go. This resulted in the predictable coughing fit, but he waved off any help and proceeded to work through half the bottle at a more reasonable pace.

Despite things having calmed down for some time the boy still looked like he just finished running a marathon. I'd seen him off and on during the morning. Most people seemed to interpret 'new member' as 'dump the worst jobs on this guy'. Granted, there weren't many cushy gigs in that melee, and my maintenance/fixer role was probably the best you could hope for, but from what I'd see he carried out any task he was given to the best of his limited ability and even in a state of near exhaustion didn't seem to be holding any complaints.

"Thanks," He gasped once the water had cleared enough for him to talk. After another brief coughing fit that made his eyes water he cleared his throat and tried to hide his embarrassment enough to continue the conversation. "You're …Joe, right? You do repair stuff around here?"

I shrugged. I was still moderating the 'unnaturally smooth motion' effect that came from efficiency, but there was nothing I could do to mitigate my posing power. If anything, my coordination seemed to make Theo more self-conscious of his current state and he began the familiar pattern of trying to adjust his posture and clothing to be less of a mess without being obvious about it. I did everything I could to pretend I didn't notice.

"Sort of. It's not anything formal. I had some background in that stuff, and helped out where I could. Kind of ended up pigeonholed because of it, I guess." I explained. Theo nodded along and slowly seemed to be pulling himself together, though that might just have been the result of him not wanting to appear sprawled in exhaustion in front of another member.

Through my implant my duplicates happily shared the progress of their Quidditch match. One-on-one had unique dynamics, but there were some parts that were clearly against the spirit of the sport. For instance, just because someone possessed a level of durability that meant bludgers didn't have a hope of injuring them didn't mean it was good form to use bludger collisions as a speed boost or way to improve your cornering. Really it was getting to the point where the duplicates were seeking out advantageous bludger impacts rather than making any attempt to avoid the damn things.

"Um, have you been a member here for long?" Theo asked, though from his posture I had a sense it was more polite small talk. Actually, very polite small talk. There was something about the boy's manner that was deliberately respectful, but in a clipped, artificial way. It screamed of politeness as a defense mechanism, and my passenger's thoughts seemed to line up with that.

I made a concerted effort to relax my stance and banish any formality as I replied. "Not really. I just signed up at the start of the month."

"Really?" Theo asked, then seemed to check himself to see if the question was appropriate. "I mean, you seem to know the place really well."

There was probably some implication about fitting in easily, or being able to ingratiate myself into social situations. I was kind of taken aback by the idea. Even with all the changes my powers had brought I still didn't feel comfortable just barging into a new social dynamic. The gym, it had kind of grown on me. Really, the fact that it was barely social was a big part of the appeal. Anything that had grown out of that was more due to the aftermath of the disaster than any magical charisma I could bring to bear.

I did my best to convey that to Theo. "I was coming daily for a while, pretty much until everything started." I looked around at the still crowded but less frantic gym. "I think they appreciate hard work here, or at least follow through." Theo nodded as I continued. "After last Saturday things were turned upside down. Everyone chipped in where they could. Probably got to know people more in two days than in the previous two weeks." Which wasn't to say I was exactly close to anyone, but exchanging names and basic conversation was a big step up from the odd approving nod for re-racking weights or making sure equipment was wiped down. "I was able to help out with a couple of repairs, so I guess that helped. Really, all this seems to be as new for everyone else as it is for me."

"I can see that." He said, as if he was following the chain of events but still saw himself and disconnected from it. There was something going on here that was more than a brief introductory conversation could get into.

And there was a borderline invasive sensor reading showing what I half suspected already, thank you Survey. Corona Pollentia, but no Gemma. Potential, but untriggered cape. Of course, potential to trigger wasn't exactly uncommon, but based on my passenger's reactions I could guess that Theo was going to trigger. Or would have triggered, based on the initial map that my passenger's predictions had drawn from, which was now thoroughly inaccurate.

There was probably more I could dig up here, but I really didn't want to. This was pushing against the very limit of the unwritten rules and was past my own comfort level. At Survey's insistence of potential security risk, I worked out a compromise. I left the investigation to her, along with the decision on what if anything to bring forward. In the meantime, I could continue to interact with Theo or anyone else who might be flagged under similar circumstances without any prejudicial information.

Given that it was an arrangement that allowed Survey carte blanche approval for any level of data analysis and background check she was more than happy to accept the terms as I continued to make small talk with Theo. And absentmindedly monitored the devolution of my duplicates' 'Quidditch' match as it morphed into 3D Billiards part 2, the Revenge.

"Yeah, I get how hellish that can be." I assured the boy.

"Seriously?" He asked, giving me a skeptical look.

"Seriously. I didn't start really working out until after high school. I think people who've always been in shape don't realize how nightmarish exercise can be when you're getting started. It's going to suck for a while, but stick with it and the stitches will pass." I explained. With my medical knowledge I could have gone a lot more technical than that, but I was trying to keep things as friendly as possible.

"I've heard that before, but it never seems to get better." He admitted, looking down at his water bottle.

"It's not easy, but I can assure you, there's actually a mythical point where exercise is actually relaxing rather than a penance. I never believed it would happen, but if you stick with it you'll get there." I looked around the gym again. "Places like this are good for that. Routine is better than anything else when it comes to sticking to a regimen."

The boy nodded. "I'm hoping I can stick this out." He shifted uncomfortably and dropped his voice slightly. "I don't think my father expected me to last long. He was surprised I was still going."

The combined tone and reaction were painfully familiar. I put on my best face as I replied. "Well, a bit of personal advice. Probably the only thing better than routine in helping you through this kind of stuff is spite." He gave me a surprised look. "Find someone who thinks you aren't up to the challenge and devote yourself to proving them wrong. Trust me, it does wonders when you're looking for ways to motivate yourself."

He cracked a smile at that and I returned it despite the pressing distraction of a text message, helpfully announced through my implant.

'Joe, Brian and I need to talk with you. It's urgent. Can you meet for lunch?' -Lisa.

I had been expecting a message from her for the last day. Frankly, since I had spoken with Taylor and found out about the state of her watch I assumed she would be in touch shortly. I didn't expect it to drag out this long, and the presence of Brian suggested this was probably about more than just the watch.

"Nice talking to you Theo, but unfortunately I've got to run." I hurriedly excused myself from the conversation. Fortunately, Theo didn't seem to notice my abruptness.

"It's been good talking with you as well." Theo's tone had shifted into a more ordered form as he recovered from the earlier exertion. The 'forced politeness' was even more apparent now, but at least I knew there was something beneath it.

"I'll catch you around." I assured him as I made my way off. A brief search through the now much more ordered stations of packing and distribution led me to Doug. After waiting for him to finish hashing out something about routes with one of the other members I was able to get his attention.

"Sorry to run, but I've just got a message." I explained.

"Don't worry about it." He looked around at the now-controlled chaos. "I think we're past the 'all hands-on deck' point anyway. Thanks for stopping by. Oh, and give your 'friend' my best. Glad SHE's doing better."

"Thanks Doug. Will do." I waved as I headed out of the gym and onto a route that circled around to Garment's shop, considering how to reply to Tattletale. Obviously I needed to meet, but it felt like I should give slightly more consideration than just an immediate confirmation, particularly since that basically seceded scheduling and location to her. It was a problem that was further complicated by the Forge suddenly giving me a lightsaber factory.

Well, no. That actually had nothing to do with the issue of Lisa's text, but it was certainly a significant distraction. Technically a connection had been made to a mid-sized mote from the Toolkits constellation called the Launderer System. Despite the name it actually had nothing at all to do with washing clothes. Instead, it was an automated factory for the production of lightsabers.

Oh, sorry, I meant 'Beam Katanas'. Totally legally distinct from lightsabers, with nothing in common but the fact that they were energy blades that projected from a handle and could deflect bullets.

Okay, beyond the superficial there were actually a lot of distinctions between them. Given how far reaching my power seemed to be it was actually kind of incredible to think that I might actually get some connection to Star Wars, or a Star Wars like universe of some description. As it stood, even what seemed to be knock off/ bootleg/ inspired by Star Wars tech was still enough to get excited about.

The thing was, aside from the broad strokes, I didn't actually know how the weapons functioned. A basic model had come with the power, bundled in as a free mote along with another set of clothes. From that I could at least discern their general function, though if that was considered basic then the higher tier examples of the technology had the potential to be terrifying.

Okay, there were a lot of problems with the basic beam katana I'd been supplied with. It couldn't manifest a beam independently, meaning it needed a receiver on a telescoping rail. The battery life was frankly atrocious, and the recharge mechanism had… let's be diplomatic and say it was suggestive. The thing was, none of those compromises stopped it from being a terrifying weapon.

Considering the energy that actually composed a beam katana they were very much not lightsabers. There were no thermal effects connected to them. Despite having the same rounded shape, a beam katana could slice apart just about anything. It was also unbelievably light and could deflect projectiles with almost contemptuous ease. The same energy field that composed the weapon practically gravitated it towards incoming fire. With any level of basic awareness even the entry level model would be able to hold off a machine gun.

And there was more to the technology. More waiting to be explored as soon as I got back to my workshop. I powered through the streets, having retrieved my elven cloak again along with its concealment effect. It let me hurry around to the back door of Garment's shop to find her just as eager to visit the newly arrived treasures. And then immediately realize we were focused on completely different aspects of the power.

"The outfit? Really?" I asked as we made our way into the Workshop. The Launderer System had been added to the manufacturing wing of the Workshop, which at least put it in the same general area as the textile facility Garment had claimed.

Garment happily indicated that if the clothing that was provided by the Forge was indeed supplied from alternate realities then it would provide a unique and priceless account of an otherwise inaccessible fashion culture.

"I don't know about priceless. There seem to be a lot of belts for that." She gestured to convey the fact that fashion was subjective and certain elements of it were highly appropriate for certain settings while entirely out of place in others, though on seeing the outfit she agreed that it would likely require a highly stylized, eccentric, and unstable universe for it to be appropriate attire.

I left her to pick over the newly delivered mess of an outfit while I moved to meet my duplicates in the Launderer System. The system, well, it was as much of a mess as the name seemed to indicate. The collection of seemingly random industrial equipment, repurposed power tools, modified appliances, incredibly high-end electronics, and nano fabrication technology was almost painful to look at, and that wasn't even touching on how it came across to my technology senses. My duplicates were clearly struggling with the same experience and from the looks of things had been doing so for quite a while.

"Here." The first said, offering me a book. "It came with an instruction manual."

I accepted the tome and started to thumb through it. Then continued, my eyebrows climbing as I worked my way past the instructions and diagrams.

"Uh, was this intended for children?" I asked skeptically, balancing the tone of the instruction booklet with the deadliness of what the system could create. "Young children? Like, kindergarten age?"

"As far as we can tell it was designed to be fool proof, with a very low opinion of the class of fool who might try to use it." The second explained. 'Idiots with laser swords' didn't sound like a friendly combination. Well, it sounded like a recipe for disaster. Another issue for the 'what universe did this come from' question.

"We've had Survey pick out the more… relevant details of the instructions." The first explained. "Despite what it looks, and, you know, feels like, it's actually capable of putting out some serious tech." He indicated to the half dozen beam katanas that had already been produced, everything from paired blades to a katana that had five beams clustered around a central support.

"We're on short time, so the next guys will have to dig into this." The second gave the mess of an assembly line a sideways glance. "And, you know, handle the upgrades and rebuilds. The important thing is this."

He handed over a rather plain looking handle. It was one of the more advanced models, without the need for a receiver or telescoping support. I held it and focused on the technology within. Emitter crystals interfaced with power supplies and processor circuitry, but there was something else. "What's going on here?" I asked.

My duplicates grinned. "Okay, most of this is fairly standard stuff. It's easy construction, since it's automated, and the way the blades handle energy conversion to maintain deflection fields and a cutting edge is important, but this is the real gem." The second indicated to the beam katana in my hand. "It's called the Peony. Try it out."

I gave them a skeptical look, but their duration was counting down and they were on their 20% time, meaning indulgences for any theatrics should be indulged. As the Knowledge constellation missed a connection I opened my senses and activated the beam katana.

It was hard to describe the relations of forces that resulted in the functioning of a beam katana. Frankly, my standard work was already so far outside a Newtonian model that it was hardly worth translating it to conventional scientific principles. The fact that I was possibly blending higher level physics from multiple universes didn't help the matter. With the depth of understanding I had of the physical principles and the innate sense of the operation of the components it would have taken a lot to surprise me. Somehow the device managed to pull off that feat.

"What the fuck?" I muttered as the red beam extended from the handle. Then extended some more. Then kept extending.

It wasn't the fact that I was holding what amounted to a room clearing lightsaber that surprised me. It was what exactly had facilitated that effect. The other beam katanas ran off a kind of kinetic battery that translated electrical power into the rending field that composed the blade.

This katana drew from ki to facilitate its effect. Buried in a pile of assorted energy weapon designs was one that specifically interfaced with pure life energy. Ki, that thanks to my magic circuits was equivalent to mana. Ki that drew from T'ai Chi Chuan, Ninjutsu training, and every source of mana available to me. In one random sword producible by what by any definition was more a pile of junk than an assembly plant I had received a perfect magitech converter, capable of turning mystical energy into directed, persistent offensive force.

"There's a ki blade? In all of this?" I said in disbelief.

"Yeah, we were surprised as well." He reached out and I deactivated the weapon before handing it back. "Look, we're down to minutes here. You go deal with the Tattletale situation; we'll get things started for the next pair."

I looked up. "Are you sure? I mean, 20% time…"

The second scoffed. "Like digging into new technology isn't the best way to spend that. Go. We'll handle things here."

I was still a little apprehensive about duplicates working until their end, but considering the alternative was being present when they dissipated, and nobody enjoyed that, I elected to take their advice, retreat to my office in the central workshop and consider how to respond to Tattletale.

The brief idea of texting back 'Sorry for the delay, was busy with my lightsaber factory.' was quickly dismissed. The flash of enjoyment that could come from trolling her wasn't worth the stress it would eventually cause. Also, as much as Tattletale could annoy me I had to keep the reality of the situation in mind.

Ultimately she was in a precarious situation. Violently recruited and caught between the Undersiders' boss and the mess that had unfolded across the city. I honestly didn't know how much of her behavior had been because of her situation, how much had been due to the stress of the city falling apart, and how much was just her own natural charm. I was willing to cut her considerable slack, but there were limits to what I could tolerate.

No matter what, with every interaction with Tattletale I couldn't get away from the impression that I was being played. My passenger wasn't much help there, and seemed to enjoy the idea of Tattletale playing puppet master with the city. I was less confident in his assessment, probably from repeatedly seeing her analysis burn out or fall flat. As it stood I was relying on her assessment for the right moment to make a move on their boss.

It was frustrating. I knew how much power I had and so did she, but there was no call to action yet. I knew how complicated entanglements could get, but I was worried that Tattletale would try to play things too conservatively, or attempt some convoluted plan. Worse still, there could be no machinations on her part. It could just legitimately be unsafe to move yet. There wasn't much out there I couldn't meet with at least equal force, but there were more threats in this business than just physical.

Honestly, after talking with her on Wednesday I hadn't expected anything like an immediate turnaround on the situation, but it was still frustrating. With everything that had happened, everything that had changed for me and the city it was natural to assume that other people had been keeping pace, rather than trying to at best keep their head above water. Realistically, any plans she had in place to help get to a stable point where I could actually help were probably wrecked by the events of the last few days.

Really, the presence of Brian along with Tattletale meant this probably wouldn't involve any dramatic breakaway schemes. More likely it would be a desperate update on the state of things, some light handed pressing for information over the more dramatic reveals during Thursday's fight, and probably the best attempt at contrition Tattletale was capable of in order to get features of her watch unlocked.

That was something I was actually looking forward to seeing. I hadn't exactly handed out end user license agreements with those things, but I hoped that if she hadn't been obviously stressed and sleep deprived she would have had sense enough to leave a tinker operating system well enough alone. The fact that she was even able to navigate the command structure was evidence of the strength of her thinker power. It was almost paradoxical, useless against major threats in the city, but perfect for causing me trouble.

I let out a breath. Putting this off wouldn't make it any better. Ultimately we were going to meet. I just had to stop thinking in circles and commit to it. I opened the link and responded to the message.

'I'm free for lunch. I take it not at the hideout?'

It was a reasonable assumption. Things were unlikely to be phrased the way they had been if the proposal was just going to be pizza at the hideout again. A quick response confirmed my suspicions.

'Need a more private meeting. 12:30 at Adams Park?'

I raised an eyebrow. It was stuff like that message that made every interaction feel like a manipulation. Adams Park was near the college. During the school year, particularly on weekends and at lunches, it was full of food trucks and mostly aimless college kids. There was no shortage of mostly discreet seating and the food was actually remarkably good for its price. Or maybe that was just my memories of college years talking and it was the same you'd get from anywhere.

The point was it was a safe bet that anyone from the college had a good impression of the place, so would be well disposed to it. So, it could be manipulation to get me in a more amenable mood. Or it could be double manipulation to make me aware of the blatant manipulation attempt to put me off my game. Or it could just be a God damn lunch choice of no real consequence.

When dealing with Tattletale you could end up digging six layers down to try to dissect a comment that wasn't intended to be more than surface level. Really, the choice was acceptable. It was reasonably secure and far enough away from the critical regions of the city that life should be progressing as normal. I stopped tying myself in knots and responded.

'That works. I'll see you there.'

There was a quick confirmation as I sank back into my office chair. Dealing with Tattletale was exhausting without even dealing with her. Really it wasn't her so much as the reminder that I had a whole other non-ABB related series of pressing concerns that would need to be dealt with for the sake of the safety of Taylor and the rest of the Undersiders. The same arrangement that basically locked me into the role I had been playing until I had some ways of addressing the situation.

An alert from my implant announced an incoming call, thankfully significantly less stressful than the mess with Tattletale. I sent a mental command and called up a holographic screen.

"Hey Aisha." Oh, that I would see that day when Aisha Laborn would be one of the less stressful aspects of my life.

Aisha was sitting in her room in her father's apartment wearing one of Garment's more casual outfits, meaning it was the kind of thing you would see worn to a five-figure New York shopping spree rather than a six-figure charity event. Though thanks to the gifted wardrobe she had those kinds of outfits as well. You had to wonder how many girls her age had a selection of custom fitted ball gowns?

Aisha glared at the screen and huffed before responding. "So, this is how it is? I take a day off and miss out on Lava Surfing, Giant Robot Basketball, and movie night?"

I blinked. "You're lumping movie night in with that?"

She glared. "I had to listen to twenty minutes of Survey complaining about technical inaccuracies and plot elements of that car movie. You better believe I'm lumping it in."

I cracked a smile. "Fine. I can accept that. I can get you into the rotation for next time if you want a chance at picking a movie." I could immediately feel Survey's apprehensions over the suggestion, coupled with an extensive analysis of Aisha's viewing habits based on her use of the omni-watch.

She shrugged. "Maybe? Things are still settling with my dad and brother." She glanced towards the door to her room. "Still, better than it has been, despite everything else."

"Good to hear that." I said. "Hey, since I still owe you that motorcycle-"

"Uh," Aisha gestured apprehensively. "Just so you know, that was mostly a joke. I don't really need a bike that can wipe out a city or whatever."

"Fine. We'll leave the star drive out of yours."

"Star drive?" She asked, twisting her expression.

"I can explain later. Look, if you want to stop by this afternoon we can go over designs. I've got to get ready for a meeting with the Undersiders."

"The Undersiders?" She asked, dropping her voice and leaning forward. Her watch had the same privacy fields built into the Undersiders' watches, but it was a natural reaction and one that was hard to suppress, no matter how unnecessary. "What about?"

"It's not a full team meeting." I explained. "Just Grue and Tattletale. Don't have the details yet, but it sounds important. I'll fill you in on what I can later."

"Uh, yeah. That would be great." She glanced to the side. "My brother's been out for most of the day, and my dad is tied up with gym stuff. I'll give you a heads up, but I should be able to duck out later. Or, you know, just use my power."

I nodded. I fully understood why Aisha didn't like relying on that. The supernatural ability to be overlooked was incredibly powerful, but ran as contrary to the girl's personality as imaginable. I knew having her powers be elective meant a lot to her, and she liked to use them sparingly, particularly where her family was concerned.

"Great, though I should get going. I'll check in after my meeting."

"Later, and good luck."

I smiled as the call cut out and began making plans. Probably overly paranoid plans, but since the last time I had the rug pulled out from under me I wasn't inclined to take chances. The Crafting constellation passed by as I got to work.

A new set of duplicates was generated, primarily tasked with continuing the previous research and projects, but also standing by in the event I needed any support. Survey opened access to news reports, public feeds, and any other sources of information on the area. Garment personally selected and assisted in the manufacture of clothing that would blend in with the style of the area while also meeting her standards. Collaborative work incorporated layered enchantments, sources of reinforcement, protective effects, and defensive technology into the outfit. The rest of my gear, including my striker boots, was standing by in my subspace pocket. On my wrist sat the collapsed form of my lantern shield, incorporated into my watch, omni-tool, personal shield, and displacer field. Multiple wide band high resolution scanners monitored the area in every direction with data feeds monitored by a nascent, rapidly evolving database A.I. program.

And under enough technology, equipment, and power to wage a dozen wars I sat at a quiet corner picnic table enjoying a tray of the particular variety of chili cheese fries I hadn't indulged in since before I first left college. The mess of grease and fried carbs was as perfectly spiced and artery clogging as I remembered it being two years ago. The nostalgia of it put me in a warm mood, and even the fact that Tattletale might have planned on such couldn't dampen my spirits on that particular point.

On that note, I spotted Tattletale and Brian making their way down one of the paths. I had detected them well in advance of that, including tracing them through the power signatures of their watches and reaching out through the Dragon's Pulse to monitor their movements. Really, the only step I was holding back from was actually tapping into their watch systems, a line that was only worth crossing in an emergency.

When they got close enough I waved them over and watched them settle into the opposite side of the table. Tattletale had gone with one of the better burger trucks in the park, while Brian had made the rookie mistake of picking the fish tacos from the Mexican truck that apparently still frequented the southern corner of the park. They looked good, but unless you liked your food drowning in cilantro they were barely edible.

The Park really was bringing back memories. A few of which included grabbing lunch as a class, some of which involved-

I cut off that line of thinking sharply before I could end up ruminating on Sabah in front of Tattletale. Instead, I took a final sweep of the surroundings, including sensor maps of every person active in the area. The chosen table didn't allow any direct vantages from nearby buildings without some level of obstruction from vegetation, and active monitoring meant if someone so much as looked at us for too long they would be tagged and flagged for facial recognition and follow-up investigations. It was as secure as it could possibly be.

I smiled as the two of them unpacked their lunches, and suppressed a small hint of amusement as Brian became aware of the contents of his tacos. Rather than let Tattletale take any more of the initiative I decided to move first.

"So, are we starting with small talk, or just diving straight into the urgent matter?" I asked is as good humor as I could muster. They shared a look before Brian responded.

"Probably best to just jump in." He said, "Because we need to talk about Somer's Rock."

Jumpchain abilities this chapter:

Minor Blessing Hera - Administration (Percy Jackson) 100:

For one reason or another you've got a god who cares slightly about you and has seen fit to grant you some minor boon within their domains. Choose one god from any pantheon and gain a minor boon from them. The god will care slightly about you but unless you go on to further distinguish yourself it will be more of a minor interest in your affairs than someone they feel the need to help (Effectively think a diminished version of one ability a demigod might have, think minor ones are stuff along the lines of breathing water, lucid dreaming, or appropriate vague extra senses, useful but nothing especially major). This can be taken multiple times.

Unnatural Skill: Transmutation (Percy Jackson) 200:

Whether from your heritage or just being that good you've got one particular mundane skill that your feats with border on supernatural. Whether you're a smith on the level of the Cyclopses, a near prescient tactician or a swordsman who is ny unstoppable with a blade your feats will be legendary. You are on a level within your skill such that only other beings of legend can hope to match you. This may be taken multiple times. You may not choose magic but you may choose a particular application of magic if you have it already (so curses, enchanting might work, more specific gets a bigger boost).

Launderer System (No More Heroes) 400:

You gain a new thing to place in your warehouse, and though you don't exactly know how it works the instruction booklet says it can construct beam katanas of all different styles and usefulness if given the right components- or if you don't have those, shoving the right raw ingredients in enough quantity to just manufacture the damn things. With enough technical knowledge, you will be able to discard the manual.

The Clothes (No More Heroes) Free:

You wouldn't make the cover of a magazine, but you can make too many belts work with these pieces.

That Sword (No More Heroes) Free:

You have a basic beam katana, and by basic I really mean it's a piece of shit. It may have a guide bar if you're into those, though.