It was the day after she’d watched Martin. Sonya stepped through one of her portals and into the quiet interior of her office. The lights came on of their own accord as she strode over to her desk. The wall-screen came on line and the feeds immediately appeared, spreading around her. She barely paid any attention to it, her astral eyes already forming on the ceiling and observing. If something important came up she’d divert her attention but she doubted it. Besides, she had more important things to concern herself with.
She sat down on her desk and yawned, the dial tone in her head ringing over twice before the other side picked up.
<“Mistress?”> Blackrazor answered.
She smiled, <”Blackrazor! How are things, dear?”> She asked.
<”Productive, mistress. We’ve completed the selective purge and replenishment of workers at the new headquarters. We are currently just a few days behind schedule,”> Blackrazor said in his usual mild tone. <”We have completed a full and thorough investigation and have removed one hundred and thirty-four high yield explosives hidden throughout the site.”>
She tilted her head and pursed her lips, <”Does that include the exterior buildings?”> She asked, her lip twitching a bit.
<”Yes mistress, if we continue as is we will complete the main complex including the central building just a small deviation past the originally projected timeframe,”> He let out a sigh, <”Shameful.”>
She laughed, <”Oh don’t be such a grump about it. Do you need to hire more people to catch up?”> She asked.
<”That would certainly be helpful, but I doubt simply throwing more manpower at the problem will fix it. We may very well have to accept the delay,”> Blackrazor admitted flatly.
She clicked her tongue, <”It is what it is, then,”> She sighed and rubbed her neck, <”Damn that Liberty, she’s like an infection and she knows where headquarters is going to be. I might need you to at least maintain high alert until construction is done,”> She said, unhappy with having to do so, that was a lot of night-society agents and security forces left standing around at headquarters rather than moving about throughout the rest of the world for her. She could be tracking more people than just Martin, not that she needed to really, nor wanted to, but it would be nice to have the option available.
<”Nothing will touch your new home,”> Blackrazor said with all certainty.
She smiled, <”I appreciate you,”> She said, <”How’s Kera?”>
<”Still obsessed with fruit, erratic, but efficient when doing her job, calm and content when we are simply socializing, I personally don’t understand it,”> Blackrazor grumbled.
She raised an eyebrow, <”...fruit?”>
<”Dates, in particular, mistress,”> Blackrazor said.
Sonya let out a groan, she threw herself back on the desk and pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to resist the urge to grind her teeth. She threw her hand up, <”Blackrazor, dear, could you do me a favor and use that nice phone I got for you to look up what the ‘social’ definition of a ‘date’ is? Please? For me? Really quick?”> She said exasperatedly. <”I promise it might help.”>
There was a long, very long, uncomfortably long, pause.
<”Ah. I see,”> Blackrazor mumbled. <”I appear to have made an unnecessary purchase.”>
She squinted, <”The hell did you buy?”>
<”A date farm in Egypt, I assumed it would make Kerauna happy,”> He said with a heavy sigh, <”I appear to have wasted my efforts.”>
Sonya snorted, relaxing a little. He was as dense as a neutron star but it seemed that he at least had good instincts. He just needed to redirect them a little, <”When you can, call Companion and talk to her about the situation, alright? Back to business. How are our spies in Liberty’s territory?”>
<”Understood,”> He paused before speaking, <”We have been fortunate, two of my agents in her territory were compromised but managed to escape. A third was beginning to behave erratically and I had him extracted. We are getting a steady stream of intelligence but I still do not have anyone close enough to her to do any real damage.”>
She exhaled, <”Just keep an eye on her and send me a write up on what you’ve learned,”> She said as she glanced towards the screen, Liberty was standing at a podium again, shouting, <”I want to know everything. We’re getting closer and closer to our goal.”>
–
Liberty stepped down from the balcony and through the doors. Her expression darkening as she passed the two guards who bowed quickly before shutting the doors behind her. She reached up and adjusted the armor on her shoulders, the fit was off again. She scowled and stormed past a trio of women in robes who quickly dropped to their knees and pressed their heads against the ground. She ignored them too, her metal heels clacking against the hard floor beneath her. This is taking too long, she thought, those wretches aren’t working hard enough, after all I’ve given them. Ungrateful. She growled.
The men I sent to investigate the camp where my sister is staying never returned, dead probably since I haven’t heard anything about it. Wise, the bombs in their guts would have gone off if they had said anything stupid, She thought as she rounded a corner. A young man with dark hair was leaning against the wall right at the edge. He glanced up at her and smiled, holding his hand over his heart and inclining his head. She shot him a hard look for a moment before looking back down the path, “Philip,” She grunted, “Your sister is moving slowly.”
Philip shrugged as he turned to walk alongside her, “She always uses indirect methods, she’ll do her job,” He said blandly, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair. It glistened a little as it seemed to harden a little on his head, “She’s probably waiting for the right moment.”
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“Either kill Cassiopeia or drag her back here, one or the other, it is not complicated,” Liberty snapped, “Remind your sister that my patience is not endless,” She said with a huff, “If I must send troops to the camp myself, I cannot promise her survival.”
Philip snorted, “If she dies like that, then she wasn’t worth raising,” He said with a shrug, “She’s a professional, ma’am,” He paused and then glanced her way, “Actually, if you do end up doing that, I’d like to go myself,” He said with a sneer.
She glanced his way, “Absolutely not, I want you here. I have others from the round table that I will send in that event,” She said as they came to a stop in front of a door, a wave of heat radiated from it and she noticed how he stepped away a bit, reaching for his hair again, “Leave me,” She commanded. He quickly bowed and turned away, hustling as far away as he could without actually running.
She pushed the door open and a bloom of heat crashed into her, she clicked her tongue and stalked inside, shutting the door behind her, “Taylor!” She barked. “I want to talk!”
The room before her wasn’t like the spartan concrete of the rest of the main compound. The walls were entirely made of dark metal and an orange luminescence spread radiantly through a gray haze that hung in the room. The sound of metal crashing against metal came from every direction, making it hard to discern which way one was looking. The heat bubbled the air, oppressive and nearly lethal to most, she ignored it as if it were just a particularly warm summer day as she marched through the haze, “Graham Taylor!” She barked again, “Show yourself!”
A low ‘tsk’ ripped through the air and the haze evaporated in an instant, taking the heat with it. The room became visible and she took in the sight of weapons hanging from the walls. All of them magnificent works of art. She shifted her view past them towards the thin man sitting at a bench in nothing but a white tanktop and off-tan cargo pants. He was leaning over an anvil made entirely of dark, crystalline stone. His glowing orange eyes burned behind his glasses as he looked at her, the small elastic strap holding them to his head looking a little droopy in the heat. He sat up straight and ran his fingers through his cropped orange-brown hair.
“Liberty, please come in, I wasn’t busy or anything,” He clipped dryly, “I told you to call me Craftsman.”
“I’ll call you whatever I please,” She snarled and stalked towards him as she reached up and unclasped the buckles of her shoulder armor. She tossed it to his feet, “They’ve stopped fitting again.”
He sneered at her, “Perhaps you should lay off the treats during your ‘rituals’?”
She stepped towards him, her head tilted and he flicked his wrist, a gun appearing in his hand. The weapon was made of the same dark crystal as his anvil. He trained it on her just as her fingers reached his throat. The two stared at one another for a few heartbeats, neither moving before she pulled her hand away, “Watch your mouth, Craftsman.”
“Keep giving me materials and I’ll think about it, Liberty,” He said with a grin before glancing down at her armor, “Your body is increasing in size and mass with your ability?” He asked.
“It would appear so,” She said with a frown, “What can be done?” She asked.
He hummed to himself, turning the pauldron over in his hand as he considered. He glanced up at her and raised an eyebrow, “You could give me the name of your ability, you’ve figured it out haven’t you?” He said with a cold smile, “Give me that and I can make you the perfect suit of armor, never have to get out of it again.”
She narrowed her eyes, “And allow you to start discerning possible weaknesses? I think not.”
He crossed his arms, “Suit yourself, but I’m working for you now aren’t I?” He said, gesturing around his workshop, “As long as you keep me well stocked and funded I’ve got no reason to turn on you,” He said, “Besides, what would I do with that information? Kill you?” He barked out a laugh, “Then who would run the cult? Your sister?” He laughed again and leaned forward, “Look, you need me as much as I need you, lady. If you want to keep me around and get what you really need out of me, then you’re gonna have to show a bit of trust.”
Her lips curled in disgust, “Trust you? You’re a snake.”
“I am an inventor,” He corrected her, “And an opportunist, there’s a difference.”
She scoffed, “Hardly,” She crossed her arms and they stared one another down for several heartbeats. She rolled her eyes and looked away, turning her back on him for a moment as she mulled it over. “Does it have to be visible on the armor?” She asked after a long moment, tapping her foot with growing irritation. “You engrave the name of the ability onto the equipment you make, correct?” She asked.
“You noticed!” He said, “Yeah, I do, but the name doesn’t have to be visible. It could be on the inside if you want.”
She rounded on him, “Then why didn’t you do that for the men I sent to get fitted?” She demanded.
He shrugged, “They didn’t ask,” He said with a sneer, “Besides, it was a good opportunity to test whether or not there was a difference between high visibility placements and the lack thereof. Data, Liberty, data!” He beamed, “Every piece of information gets me closer to a perfect understanding of this ability,” He said and gestured to the anvil and the hammer that appeared in his hand next. The dark metal hammer wreathed in gold strips glowed with a faint orange light that caused the temperature of the room to start rising.
“All you care about is testing your toys?” She demanded, “Not the lives of the men wearing them?”
He gave her an incredulous look, “Like you actually care either?” He scoffed, “You can delude everyone else but you don’t have me fooled. Your blood is made of ice.”
She popped her neck, “I would endure a lot to rip your arms out of their sockets right now,” She growled before letting out a sigh and reaching up to run armored fingers through her hair. She glanced back at him again, “Standard of Glorious Camelot,” She said after another few seconds of hesitation.
He returned her stare for a moment before he actually gave her a half-respectable smile, “See, that wasn’t so hard,” He said and gestured to the ground, “Leave your armor and I’ll have it done by the end of the week. Masterwork takes time.”
She huffed and reached up to remove her breastplate, tossing it to the ground. She did the same with her gauntlets, revealing the compression shirt and her growing muscles. He stared at her for a moment, eyeing her arms, “You’re disgusting,” She spat.
He wrinkled his nose, “Please, physical interests are a distraction from science and creation,” He said, “I extricated distractions from my body shortly after the flash,” He said and glanced down at his hammer, “This is all I need to derive pleasure for myself,” he said, hefting it, “I simply find the physiological changes from your ability fascinating. Arthurian in origin, very interesting,” He rubbed his chin, “I wonder if Excalibur or Caliburn or whatever it’s called is real, then.”
“No evidence so far,” She said as she removed the last of her armor, leaving it in a pile at his feet, “If there is, I’ll find it. It’s mine.”
He smirked, “Don’t want me to make a sword for you?” He asked.
She turned away from him and stalked away, “There’s only one weapon worthy of me,” She said with a growl, “Be honored enough you get to make my armor,” She added as she left, shutting the door behind her. She closed her eyes and ignored the fit of mad laughter that echoed through the door as she stepped into the hallway. Psychopath, she thought and made her way down the hall. As she walked one of the women walking down the hallway saw her in nothing but her compression shirt and slacks and hurried to her side, taking off her own shawl and presenting it to her without hesitation.
Liberty stared at the offered cloth and resisted the urge to slap it away in disgust, “I’m fine, thank you,” She growled instead, continuing past, “I have clothes in my chambers,” She said, “Send for the rest of the round table. I want them to meet me in an hour.”
She paid no attention to the figure prostrating behind her and instead marched down the hall until she got to the stairs, going up and and up until she arrived at the floor set aside for her personal residence. She pushed through the double doors as her eyes began to glow again, One week until my armor is done. That’s good enough. Philip’s mole has one week until I mobilize against the East Coast Camp.