Sunday, September 27th

The DataSilo that might or might not eventually hold Wendy’s backup was still in the printer and would occupy it for another few days. So instead of printing new toys, we talked about the best way of running a business based on Vanguard tech.

There was already some industry based on reverse engineered Advent tech. Rumors had it that a Magical Girl selling out had much to do with it. But said industry was still far from covering all possible applications, there had to be a few more niches we could fill. Weapons manufacturing was already going fine, but only one of many possibilities.

If we could convince the authorities that Wendy was still Wendy the adult citizen with full legal capacity, I might have my first employee. That would, however, still leave me doing the actual fighting on my own. Me, Elya and a bunch of drones, many of them captured Macks.

Early evening

Wendy, Arina and I arrived at the location of the Dragonsbane concert. The band was in the middle of the sound check. A short drum solo made the windows of the lobby rattle, an electric guitar ripped through the air like a raging demon, and I could feel the excitement from earlier metal concerts coming back.

Arina brimmed with happy anticipation, while Wendy looked a little apprehensive. The undertones of raw aggression seemed to worry her. Nevertheless, she insisted on sharing the experience.

Once inside, the familiar ambience of a rock concert about to begin greeted us. The band made the final adjustments to the mix, while people got some beers from a stand at the side.

Finally the roof lights went out and the stage lighting came on, together with an ethereal wailing from the speakers. While that was playing the band came on stage, and with the end of the intro they launched into their first song.

Arina quickly disappeared in the mosh pit that formed at the foot of the stage. A little unusual for this particular subgenre of heavy metal, but she obviously had fun. Within minutes I could see her crowd surfing.

Wendy stayed next to me, initially a bit nervous but then I could feel her loosen up. Halfway through the set, she even started headbanging a little bit. For my part, I enjoyed the charged atmosphere and the visceral pounding of the drums. I may have headbanged a bit myself…

Eventually, the concert was over and Arina returned to us.

I asked “So, how did your new ears handle the volume?”

“It was fantastic, all of the intensity and none of the ringing in the ears!”

On the way to the exit, trouble was brewing. Four rather drunk guys got in our way and their leader started making lewd comments at us. I noticed that some of the symbols on their jackets looked suspiciously like the weird letters a team of special forces had uncovered in a Mack base early in the war.

Arina took my arm and cautioned “Careful, those guys might be the Mack worshippers I heard rumors about. A doomsday cult that celebrates the oncoming rule of the machines.”

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Next to me, Wendy picked up on that and her demeanor shifted to a cold rage.

At the same time, Mr. Cultist worked up his courage to the point where he said “You’ll make a bunch of damn fine Mack dolls!”

To his buddies: “Let’s take them to the Omnissiah for conversion!”

The Omnissiah was the “machine god” from the lore of an old tabletop RPG called Warhammer 40k. Wendy seemed to know that, as she lost it and jumped him with a snarl. Cultist was reacting slow enough that she managed to punch him in the throat. Not very expertly, but with her enhanced strength it did the trick. He fell over and clutched his throat, gasping for air.

The others ran at this show of effective resistance. Apparently cultists were not hardened fighters. Wendy promptly pursued them.

Dammit Wendy, you’re not supposed to go it alone. Even if I agreed with beating up that scum. Next Arina took off after her, while the people around me pretended not to see anything. Despite my misgivings, I followed her. This might end badly, but I was not leaving my friends in the lurch.

Fortunately, these guys did not understand the concept of defeat in detail. They ran following the principle of every man for themselves, not paying attention to the fate of their comrades. Soon Wendy and Arina had run down the fattest and slowest of them. The guy was wheezing badly and his speed had fallen to a clumsy trot as Wendy jumped on his back and rode him to the ground.

Arina seemed uncertain about jumping in. She clearly had no sympathies for the enemy and their followers, but also misgivings about killing a fellow human being. Because that was going to happen if nobody stopped Wendy.

Pretty winded myself, I arrived just in time to keep Wendy from punching the guy in the face for a fourth time. “Enough, you don’t want a murder charge for avenging a few insults and threats!”

“Fine, but I’m not letting the other two get away!” Wendy said and resumed chasing the two remaining cultists, who were just disappearing around the next corner. Arina followed her again. At this point I seriously contemplated calling the police myself. But they might be too late to prevent whatever Wendy would do, so I followed as best I could. As long as their batteries lasted, Wendy and Arina would not get exhausted, and the difference between their speed and mine would only grow further.

As I rounded the next corner, I saw one of the assholes from the concert hall lying on the ground and clutching his balls. At the end of the road I barely caught a glimpse of Wendy and Arina before they got out of sight. I resisted the temptation to give the asshole on the ground an extra kick and tried to catch up to my friends instead. Which I only managed because they had finally ran down the final cultist in the doorway of a dilapidated warehouse. When I reached them, the guy already looked like he had been worked over with a baseball bat.

Then I heard sounds of a struggle from inside the warehouse. Shouts were followed by a meaty smack, then a pop and finally a barely heard “Get her to the operation table!”. At this point I finally decided to call 911.

But as soon as I had my smartphone in hand and was typing, I was rushed by two guys that looked like more cultists. One of them beat the phone out of my hand, the other tackled me to the ground. They both made the mistake of ignoring Wendy and Arina. From the corner of my eye I saw how Wendy tried her amateurish throat punch technique against one of them. He managed to protect himself from that by tucking in his head and holding up an elbow for cover. But Arina, who seemed to have at least some training in unarmed combat, approached him from the side and stomped on his leg just above the ankle. With a sickening crunch, the joint gave way.

Seeing the other attacker at my throat, Wendy and Arina ignored their current opponent and went after the guy who tried to strangle me. Not a moment too soon, as he was close to succeeding. After a few kicks and the sound of snapping ribs, he sagged to the ground with a painful groan.

As I got up, gasping for air, I noticed something rolling out of his jacket. A big can of pepper spray. I grabbed it and followed Wendy and Arina, who were already entering the building.

Together, we sneaked through the corridors towards the toilets and the common room. From the latter came the rattling of chains and the voice that had given commands earlier.