Bobby stood outside Mic's ship, the Starling's Gearshift, decked out in his newly acquired combat gear. The weight of the armour felt reassuring, a protective shell against the dangers that lurked in the transformed London. He adjusted the strap of the neutron blaster slung across his back, the alien weapon a constant reminder of the strange new world he found himself in.
The hover bike hummed beside him, its sleek form a stark contrast to the ruined landscape surrounding them. Bobby ran his hand along its smooth surface, marvelling at the advanced technology now at his disposal.
As he waited for Mic to emerge from the ship, Bobby's mind wandered to the events that had led him to this moment. Just weeks ago, he had been a normal police officer, and now he was preparing to storm a fortified compound to rescue a gnome's daughter. The absurdity of it all wasn't lost on him.
You ready for this, Rem? Bobby asked, knowing the disembodied dwarf soul could hear his thoughts.
Bobby chuckled. No promises there, mate.
He paced around the hover bike, double-checking his equipment.
Bobby flexed his fingers, feeling the residual tingle of mana in his palm. The more attention he gave to these new skills, the more intriguing they became. Fire Strike was still fresh in his mind, and he couldn't help but marvel at the newfound power. But he resisted the urge to summon a fire strike, still feeling the effects of mana burn. He was still regenerating mana, but at a much slower pace than he needed. He had to conserve every point.
Maybe when this is all done and dusted I should look into a mage build, that would be pretty cool. He thought.
For a moment, he lost himself as he imagined wielding the power of the cosmos against the strange creatures of this new world, before returning to the present.
"Mic's taking his sweet time, isn't he?" Bobby muttered, glancing back at the ship's entrance.
As if on cue, a series of clangs and muffled curses emanated from within the ship. Bobby raised an eyebrow, wondering what invention Mic was wrestling with now.
The wait gave Bobby time to contemplate the risks they were about to face. The compound where Sprocket was being held was heavily fortified, and they were outnumbered. But they had the element of surprise on their side, and with Mic's inventions and Bobby's newfound abilities, they stood a chance.
As the minutes ticked by, Bobby grew anxious. He paced back and forth, his boots crunching on the debris-strewn ground.
"Come on, Mic," Bobby muttered under his breath, his eyes fixed on the ship's entrance. "We're burning daylight here."
Bobby's impatience waned as he heard the telltale sounds of Mic's approach. The gnome's footsteps, though light, echoed through the metal corridors, growing louder with each passing moment.
Finally, Mic emerged from the Starling's Gearshift, and Bobby's eyes widened at the sight. The diminutive engineer was decked out in plated leather armour, the segments fitting snugly over his small frame. A tool belt wrapped around his waist, various gadgets and gizmos hanging from it, their purpose a mystery to Bobby.
What caught Bobby's attention, however, was the enormous rucksack Mic was carrying. It seemed comically large compared to the gnome's stature, bulging with unknown contents. Bobby wondered what sort of inventions or supplies Mic had crammed into the overstuffed bag.
"Blimey, Mic," Bobby said, eyeing the rucksack. "You planning on moving house?"
Mic grinned, his bushy moustache twitching with excitement. "Oh, you never know what we might need out there, Bobby! Better to be over-prepared than under-prepared, I always say."
Bobby nodded, conceding the point.
Without further explanation, Mic made his way to the rear of the spaceship. Bobby followed, curiosity piqued. The gnome pressed a series of buttons on a small panel, and with a hydraulic hiss, a lift descended from the cargo bay.
As the platform lowered, Bobby's jaw dropped. There, secured to the lift, was Mic's Gearswizzle. But it was no longer the compact hovering platform Bobby remembered. The device had been upgraded, and now sported what looked like a cannon jury-rigged to its frame.
"Mic," Bobby said, his voice a mix of awe and concern, "I thought you said you were going to attach a high powered spectral analyser to the Gearswizzle. What in the bloody hell is that?"
The gnome's eyes gleamed with pride as he patted the makeshift cannon. "This, my friend, is, errr, the spectral analyser."
"Jeez. It looks more like a canon than a research tool." Bobby said.
"Well, I did, um, change it a little. Needed to like, so it packs more of a punch." Mic stared at his invention with pride.
Bobby stared at the modified Gearswizzle. As he focused on the device, trying to gauge just how powerful it had become, a translucent information screen shimmered into existence before his eyes.
Spectral Analyser Cannon
A highly modified version of Mic's Gearswizzle Mark III, now featuring a large, menacing barrel attachment.
Base Damage: 150-200
Spectral Damage: 75-100 (effective against ethereal entities)
Area of Effect: 5-meter radius
Special Effects:
30% chance to temporarily disrupt magical barriers
10% chance to overload, causing 50 damage to the user
Warning: Unstable prototype. Use with extreme caution.
"Wow, Mic." Bobby exclaimed. "That does pack quite a punch. Well done. Though I'm not too sure about that last warning."
"Warning? Eh?" Mic squinted at the Gearswizzle before waving his hand at Bobby. "Bah, bloody cheek of it. System should know me better by now."
"So it's not unstable?"
"Well, um, I didn't quite say that," Mic said, before hoisting his oversized backpack onto the Gearswizzle. "I mean, it’s, errr, just good practice to be cautious, right?"
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Bobby shook his head. "Well, you fly that, and I'll fly the hover bike. You ready?"
"Yeah, I am." Mic replied.
Bobby wasn't so sure the gnome was ready, but they couldn't wait forever. "In that case, let's make tracks. You remember the plan?" Mic nodded. "Ok, it's now or never, I suppose." With that, he straddled his hover bike and, with one last glance at the warehouse Mic's ship was in, he gunned his bike out into the streets beyond.
~
Bobby guided his hover bike to a stop behind a crumbling brick wall, the engine's hum fading to silence. He dismounted, crouching low to avoid detection. Mic landed his Gearswizzle nearby, the transportation vehicle settling onto the debris with a soft whir.
They had arrived at the outskirts of what was once an industrial area, now transformed into a fortified stronghold. Bobby peered over the wall, his eyes widening as he took in the sight before him.
As they settled into their observation spot, a sudden movement caught Bobby's eye. He tensed, his hand moving to his weapon.
"Mic, down!" he hissed, pulling the gnome behind cover.
A patrol of raiders passed by, twenty meters from their position. Bobby held his breath, aware of how exposed they were. After a tense moment, the patrol moved on, oblivious to the intruders in their midst.
"That was close," Bobby muttered, his heart racing. "We need to be more careful."
Mic nodded, his usual chatter silenced by the near miss. They turned their attention back to the compound, now even more aware of the dangers that lay ahead.
The raiders' compound sprawled across what used to be warehouses, centring around a massive factory complex. What had once been a hub of manufacturing was now a fortress, its walls reinforced with scavenged materials. Sheets of corrugated metal, concrete slabs, and even overturned vehicles formed a patchwork barrier around the perimeter.
But it the build of it was stranger than anything he'd ever seen before.
Eh? Bobby thought, what do you mean they used the System?
How would I know?
Look, Rem. You know, I don’t have a clue about what’s going on. I've not had a chance to think, let alone understand this god damn System. But you're in no position to lecture me, you can’t remember half your life.
Bobby let the dwarf's comment go. The last thing he needed was a petty squabble with an incorporeal voice in his head before he went into battle.
So, its System built? Bobby prompted. What does that mean?
Yeah.
Outpost? you mean like a base? The raiders have used the System to cobble together a base?
Bobby nodded, before relaying the conversation to Mic.
"Errr, he's probably right." Mic said, agreeing with the bodiless dwarf. "But that’s neither here, nor, um, there, right now."
"No, it's not." Bobby said, but he decided once they had rescued Mic's daughter he would have a proper sit down with them all and get a good understanding of his new world. He had winged it for too long now.
He turned his attention to the raider’s base. Watchtowers loomed at strategic points, cobbled together from scaffolding and random metal containers. Bobby could make out the silhouettes of guards patrolling these makeshift structures, their weapons glinting in the fading light.
“Man,” Bobby whispered. "They've really dug in here."
Mic scrambled up the wall beside him, his small form easily finding purchase on the uneven surface. The gnome produced a pair of high-tech binoculars from his oversized rucksack and peered through them.
"Oh my," Mic muttered, adjusting the focus. "This is quite the operation they've got going."
The main gate was heavily fortified, with a jury-rigged energy barrier flickering across the opening. Smaller side entrances were barricaded with thick metal doors, likely salvaged from the factory's original structure.
"Yeah," Bobby agreed. "Question is, are they expecting us?"
"Nothing to say they came from here, though, is there?" Bobby said.
Bobby ignored the question.
As they observed, Bobby noticed movement within the compound. Groups of raiders moved with purpose, carrying crates and equipment between buildings. The level of organisation surprised him; these weren't just simple scavengers, but a well-coordinated force.
"Mic," Bobby whispered, "can you spot anything that might help us locate Sprocket?"
The gnome adjusted his binoculars, scanning across the compound. "Not yet," he replied, his voice tinged with frustration. "But if I had to guess, they'd keep her in one of the inner buildings. Probably the old admin block, there." He pointed to a squat, windowless structure near the centre of the complex.
Bobby nodded, committing the layout to memory. The task ahead seemed even more daunting now that he could see the full extent of the raiders' defences. But they had come too far to turn back now.
"Alright," Bobby said. "I suppose we stick to the original plan. Mic, you ready to create a diversion?"
Mic lowered his binoculars, his brow furrowed in thought. "Yes, I um, suppose I am. Here, errr, take this."
Bobby took an oblong item from the old gnome. "What does it do?" he asked.
"It's, well, I mean, it creates a localised System magnetic pulse. Should, um, disable any System tech, in the area."
"Oh, like an EMP, but for this new world?"
"Huh?" Mic said, frowning at him. "What’s an EMP?"
"It's what we called an electromagnetic pulse. It was human technology that knocked out any unshielded electronics in the area. So, this." Bobby said hefting the item. "Would be an SMP then?"
"I, errr, like that name. Yes. Let's call it an SMP then." Mic replied.
"Ok, so this is kind of a last resort, then." Bobby put the SMP into his backpack. "Right, give me five minutes to get into place, then let her rip."
"Um, wait, wait." Mic said as bobby climbed down from the wall.
"What is it?"
Mic pulled another injector looking gun from his backpack.
"No, it's alright Mic, I'm not injured yet."
"No. this doesn't, um, heal you." Mic brought the injector towards Bobbys’ neck. "Here, let me just…"
Bobby tried to slap the gnome’s hand away, but with a surprising display of speed and agility, Mic injected him just below the ear.
"Fucking hell, Mic!" Bobby choked back his cry. "That bloody hurt." Bobby rubbed the spot under his ear. "What was that?"
"It's an organic transceiver. The NeuroBridge. It'll let you communicate with, err the team. Well, just me. But it could work with a larger team." Mic shrugged. "Don't worry, it'll break down in a few months."
"You've got to stop injecting me like this. Gonna give me a complex. You understand?"
Mic shrugged and mounted his Gearswizzle. "Stop being a youngling."
Bobby was startled at how loud the words in his ear were, especially considering Mic's mouth hadn't moved. It was as if he had spoken directly in his ear.
Unlike when he learnt a new skill with his fire strike ability, there was no pain that accompanied the knowledge of how to reply via the transceiver.
"Ok, well, this is pretty cool. But why didn't you give me one of these before we left?"
"I forgot." Mic replied. "But, um, you've got one now."
"How far is the range on these things, and do I have to worry about the enemy overhearing our conversation?" Bobby asked, his brow furrowing with concern. He glanced around, half-expecting a raider to jump out from behind a crumbling wall.
Mic's voice crackled through the transceiver, tinged with a hint of pride. "Oh, well, you see, the range is quite impressive for such a compact device. It's about a mile or so, give or take a few yards. Um, plenty of room for us to manoeuvre and stay in touch!"
Bobby nodded, processing the information. "That's good, but what about security? Can't the raiders intercept our chats?"
"Ah, excellent question!" Mic chirped, his enthusiasm evident even through the slight static. "You see, these beauties operate on an organic wavelength that's unique to us. It's like... um, imagine our brains are on the same frequency. Makes it much harder for those pesky human raiders to pick up on."
"But not impossible, right?"
Mic let out a small chuckle. "Well, nothing's impossible, I suppose. But, um, by the time they crack the encryption - if they even could - we should be long gone with my Sprocket safely in tow. No need to fret, my friend!"
The gnome's nonchalant reply did little to quell Bobby's unease, but he had to admit it was reassuring. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever challenges lay ahead. "Alright then, let's hope it doesn't come to that. We better get moving."
Bobby's eyes widened as a translucent blue window materialised in front of him, its edges shimmering with an otherworldly glow. The System's familiar interface filled his vision, presenting him with an unexpected prompt:
Quest - The Great Gnomish Escape
Rescue Sprocket from the raiders’ headquarters.
Exp: Variable
Do you accept? Y/N
Bobby blinked, as he read the quest's absurd name and the variable reward. Does the System have a sense of humour? He wondered. Shaking his head, he selected yes before mounting his hover bike.
"Right Mic." He sub vocalised. "Lets go piss off some raiders and rescue that daughter of yours."