The vibration and rocking motions of my motorbike as I slowly ground my way through the outskirts wasn’t helping with the knots continuing to writhe in my stomach. Apparently, having flashbacks of the time you were left for dead wasn’t a good enough excuse to skip out on work.

Not that I wanted to.

If anything, the violence would hopefully ground me a little better. After shaking away the gloom of my nametag being torn from my bloodied tactical vest by an unknown figure, Roxy had looked twice as worried for me. My codename or call sign in the squad had been Bard.

It wasn’t my actual name; I was almost certain of that. After some prodding, part of my brain winced at certain other words that Clara insisted on jabbing me with. Paladin. Warlock. Druid. A few others had no reaction, but the theme was clear. No other flashbacks, but an uncomfortable feeling that had left me feeling out of sorts.

My squad had been named after classic fantasy classes. As if we were some manner of righteous adventuring party, or... perhaps something closer to toy soldiers for a megalomaniac. Given that I had the charms to suit this fabled class, I was willing to jump to the conclusion that the others had abilities that suited their codenames as well.

It was a lot of bullshit to dump on me right before heading out to run my League mission. Ten of us, but only three others were still living - if my assumption about the oddly loaded magazine was correct. Which other classes? There were so many thoughts just spinning wildly throughout my head, and no time to give them the attention they required.

A notification came in. As much as the techie wanted to delve into this new nugget of information - perhaps one of the more overt leads we had on my past - we agreed to buckle down and get the mission done first. It couldn’t really be any other way.

//Clara: You should see the target location shortly, Gunquake.

//Clara: Closed comms are still secure, but be advised you might have ears and eyes on you.

//Gunquake: Understood.

Roxy had wanted in on the chat channel, but had been told no. Some amount of pouting had gotten her the compromise of being able to read but not reply. I’m not sure how that would be any more comforting for her than not knowing, but it was briefly amusing seeing her being the annoying one for once.

As a parting gift, she had given me a kiss and a hug, but since I was fully outfitted she was slightly frustrated there was no skin to which her lips could adhere to. Clara had given me a single cartridge instead of offering physical assurances, but given that she’d managed to cobble together a Quake shot, it was almost as good as Roxy’s hug.

Drum and two ten-mags with Nerve. Tazer, Smoke, Rubber, and Water ten-mags. I’d used up all my grenades against the mutants, but Clara assured me we’d be drowning in them once the League was supplying me with equipment - maybe even after I showed what I was capable of tonight.

Shame my heart wasn’t in it as much. Couldn’t take any of the fun ammunition that killed people. Although Stacy hinted at an acceptable collateral percentage, the thought of having to count out how many souls I could erase seemed more unpalatable than wiping the lot of them from this world.

That might say something about me, but I’d covered the mirror of self-reflection with a dark sheet for the next… hour or less, hopefully. I knew that if something fucked me up, then Roxy could be over with emergency first aid… assuming I could hold on for the ten or so minutes it’d take her to leap here. Fresh stims and canister in, yet I still felt half dead.

A new addition to my gear was a satchel full of restraints. Although they looked like little more than large, League-branded zip-ties, I found that they were pretty easy to use one-handed. Something Roxy was a little too keen to have me practice on her. Clara just needed to find a way we could stick them in a shotgun cartridge, and my life would be a lot easier.

I rolled the bike to a stop at the crest of a ridge. Flicked the lights off in seeing the buildings ahead.

Jolt God was considered a C-Rank villain. Although Stacy hadn’t told us outright, Clara was able to do a search on the disconnected database she had sequestered from the League. We also looked up the Five Eyes, and three of them were also C-Rank, with two being low B-Rank.

That was… humbling.

Of course, Roxy was B-Rank at present and could fold me in half without breaking a sweat. Notoriety and exploits seemed to have some weighing factor on villain designations just as popularity and mission successes did for supers… but I was still a little sore about my place in all this. Clara had tried to reassure me that running a gauntlet of five villains in a row signaled that I was punching my weight decently - especially as that was before my abilities and tech had really started to come into play…

But I wouldn’t be convinced. Nothing since my call sign had been jammed into my skull really shifted my mood much.

I needed to focus.

The hobgoblin town was a squared U-shape. Tall buildings of gray stone that were almost a dead ringer for the office blocks I had been walking around this morning. Slightly mismatched in shape and patched up with whatever materials they could find. My current position was on the long left side of the shape. I orientated my lense map so that the open side of their U was pointing north, so that I could see my approach almost directly from the west.

Central area was lit by floodlights. The sound of machinery and tiny shapes amongst the bright illumination signaled they were hard at work and hadn’t turned in for the night. Shame, as that made this slightly more of a slog. To my advantage, the terrain dipped from the crest I was perched upon, all the way up to their walls, it seemed. With my bike turned off, I could coast near silently all the way there.

Only needed to arrest Jolt himself, and disable the bomb. Easier said than done, and I doubted that the rest of his tribe would be pleased I was there and causing havoc. As long as I didn’t blow myself up with the…

Shit. Shouldn’t think things into existence.

Wheels crunched through gravel as I descended the slight ridge and started rolling their way. Less noise once it picked up speed, and I slowed it so as to not careen into a rock formation or a ditch that the moonlight didn’t care to illuminate.

After finding out the tank on my back was filled with lubricant, Roxy extracted a little more information with narrowed eyes from the techie. Some industrial stuff, incredibly good for removing friction from most things and generally not used because of the fumes it gave off - something my gas-mask would prevent, I was assured. Triple shot required less explaining. Once I had given it a proper noun, it seemed self explanatory. Niche, perhaps, but it was these edge cases that made me a tech superhero.

Or, close to one, anyway.

//Clara: Switching to mission critical comms only.

//Clara: Once you have reached the walls, I will release the drone.

//Gunquake: Understood.

We hadn’t really been flooding the chat with errant talk only, but it was nice to set a professional tone. Helped me focus. At first I was surprised the League let us use private comms for this, but at the end of the day they were testing my competency more than what Clara could provide.

Noise of the workers grew in volume as I slipped through the night air. Was half tempted to unclip my vocalizer. Fall into old habits. But I wasn’t here to be a detached killer. Part of this was now an act… a role the League expected me to play into. Despite my apparent bard-like charms, I was still undecided on how I felt about playing the anti-hero.

Until recently, I’d been more of a villain.

Slid the bike to a stop as I approached the closest wall. No windows here until higher up, and most of them were dark. From my prior vantage point, it looked as though the buildings were all joined together like some manner of dorm block. Would be cliche if Jolt was just in the southern short side of the U, but he was just as likely to be out in the large courtyard as well.

I needed to get to a vantage point first.

Stepped from the bike and checked my drum was in.

//Clara: Hold for drone release.

My eyes went over to the building before me. There was a doorway raised off of the ground to the right, which looked like my best way in. Backpack shook slightly as the drone unclipped and dropped, catching itself in the air to hover and move away from me.

//Clara: Activation successful. Visual and audio clear.

//Clara: Follow or scout?

//Gunquake: Follow.

//Clara: Confirmed.

While having the techie fly the drone over to the courtyard to try to spy out Jolt or anything to note would be pragmatic, we didn’t know what kind of tech we were dealing with. If they had something that could pick off or detect airborne threats, then having the drone disabled or my cover blown before I had even set foot inside would be a terrible mark on my record.

I had a lot of people’s interest riding on this going well.

Moved my bike down toward where the door was, as the drone followed behind me. The buzzing noise drowned out by the shouting and sounds of… either industrial welding or some manner of metal fabrication. That was quite some tech for hobgoblins.

Stood on the back seat and reached up, the end of my barrel just long enough to clip beneath the wide handle and pull it open. I wavered atop the seat, almost falling off onto the ground. What I wouldn’t give for rocket boots or some other mobility tech.

Jumped and pulled myself up over the ledge into a gloomy hallway. Immediately my re-breather was filled with a smell that was… kind of old body odor. Just persistent. I could only imagine how bad it would be without my gas-mask. I sighed. There was something… relaxing about being in a darkened building at night. Shotgun loaded and more targets than I could shake a throttled hobgoblin at.

Hunting down a super, even if they were a villain. Despite the pressurized container of barely held-back secrets rolling around in the back of my mind, I was in my element - for as long as this lasted.

Took a few steps across the dirtied tiles. Not an often used exit, if the amount of grime around the area was to be believed. Architecture was… it made it seem like they had taken over some ruins from the old world. Patched it up slightly better than the mutants would have. This small corridor led to a wider one that ran left to right. I peered my head down the left side.

Central of the building, so no windows to the busy courtyard. A few aged bulbs providing dim light occasionally. Plenty of doors - the assumption that it looked like a university dorm or something perhaps held some weight. Most of them closed, as well. Down to the right, the corridor was much shorter, eventually leading to a set of double doors that must open up to the southwest corner of the square U.

More importantly, there was also a staircase just before the doors. I needed to go higher.

I double checked the left before I moved. Other than the thrumming din vibrating through the walls, and the soft hum of the drone, there was no sound or movement. It was possible anyone not working was indeed sleeping - if they could, through this racket.

My feet took me out and down the corridor. Shotgun-arm up just in case, while Clara watched my back. Left hand unclipped the satchel full of zip-ties. Wishful thinking. We made it to the stairwell, and I stepped into cover. Peered back around through the doorway leading to the next section. I could see… light and movement in there, through doors that probably held large glass panels at some point but now were mostly empty holes.

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A wider communal area. From the smells… possibly their dining space. Smelled like burning tires, however. Could just be more industrial stuff. The urge to scout out that way had to be tempered. I needed to stick to the original plan and get a view out to the courtyard. There was no point getting into a fistfight while Jolt and the bomb sat idle outdoors already. A glance upward and it looked as though the stairs went all the way to the top.

I wondered how Roxy was doing. Sitting at the edge of her seat and watching me attempt to stealth through this building - something I was only marginally decent at. There was brief guilt on her face when she realized she had knocked some past trauma back into my conscious mind, but then just worry, and I should…

No, I should focus.

Paused at the next floor to make sure the coast was clear. It was, so I continued. Only making a minor amount of noise as my outfit shifted. Third floor… clear as well. I wondered if there were way too many rooms compared to how many hobgoblins lived here. Could be I was in an unused part of the complex. Was I that lucky?

Based on prior exploits, no, not really.

Third floor was equally as devoid of life, and I started to get a little more comfortable with the situation. If only I had an easy way down from this height as well. Perhaps Clara could get me something to rappel down buildings, at least. Or like… a zipline that I could fire like a grapple? I had to admit I was slightly jealous of Roxy and her ability to leap from great heights and land with no issue.

Quake shot sat in the sixth slot of my selectloader, just begging for me to drop from the sky and shake the shit out of my enemies.

Fourth and final floor. I tilted my head around the left corridor and it was near pitch black for the most part. Didn’t even have the occasional wall light that I could see. It was thanks to this darkness, however, that I could see some slight light at the bottom of some of the doors. Just peeking through the cracks. To the right was just a plain wall. Something had been drawn and scrawled over a couple of times - but it was nothing I recognized.

Slightly disappointed there wasn’t an easy route from here to the rest of the dorms, I would at least get a good look at the courtyard before having to circle back.

I stepped over to the first doorway that didn’t have interior light seeping beneath the door. In fact, it wasn’t even closed properly - a few shaded millimeters showing that it was just pulled to, but the latch hadn’t engaged.

Clara hung back to watch the stairs and the length of the corridor. I took a calm breath and slowly pushed against the door.

Not entirely silent, but the ambient noise drowned out any complaints as it swung slowly inward. My muscles tensed up at seeing a figure silhouetted at the opposite side.

A hobgoblin standing out on an open balcony. Took me a brief second to realize that he was facing away from me, a fact confirmed once I clocked that his bare ass was out and he had no face glaring at my entrance. Male was a reasonable assumption. Based on the repetitive motions his right arm made as he looked out at the factory work, he was really passionate about the craft.

Dirtied mattress on the left side of the room, some decaying wooden furniture on the right covered with empty bottles and other assorted trash. There was a pile of what I assumed was clothing in one corner. I felt a stroke of sympathy for… oh, terrible phrasing.

The din of metal work below muffled away the sound of Nerve shot hitting him in the back of the head, before this got any more awkward. He dropped to his knees, his brain overloading immediately, and then flopped over backward. Odd eyes rolled back as his tongue lolled out.

Drone came into the room behind me and spied the state of my first victim. Could almost hear her biting her tongue, trying to stay professional. I grabbed a dirtied sheet and threw it over his lower half, as Clara nudged the door to. First restraints out, and I pushed the hobgoblin onto his side to put his wrists together. They had some manner of tracking device in them, so once I rolled out of here, the cleanup crew could come in and pick up everyone.

Edged up to the balcony wall and peered to the sides first, to make sure his efforts weren’t some manner of group ritual. Nobody else on this floor, at least. Flashes of light occasionally brightened the areas already reasonably well lit by the floodlights pointed toward the courtyard. I looked over the side.

I’d been in a steel mill once. Or at least some similar metal fabricating plant - a contract to kill off someone who was making people disappear for credits. Some irony in him meeting the same fate as his victims. Heh, irony. I made the mental note that it was definitely an iron mill, so the story would be more fun to tell. What occupied the courtyard below was something similar to that memory.

Large vats of molten metal, steam rising out of tall pipes. Sparks spraying from one area where parts were being welded together. A cobbled together processing line, four or five different machines linked by a conveyor belt. Shaping, pressing, and putting bolts or holes in pieces - at least, that’s the best I could see from up here.

At least two dozen… maybe three dozen hobgoblins working, walking about, or just generally shouting at each other. I hadn’t been given an estimated total from Stacy, but my assumption would be that they worked in shifts. There might be three times the number I could currently see… possibly even just shy of a hundred.

I didn’t have that many restraints, if so.

Aside from all the constant work and noisy machinery in the courtyard, over to my right—the south side—there was another building built up against the stonework of the dorms. Made of metal sheets, only vaguely more competent than what mutants could put together. Roughly two floors, the top one having a wide window spanning the length of the building. Gave a good view of most of the courtyard factory work.

Where site overseers would be stationed, no doubt. Probably Jolt God himself if I knew anything about technicians and their obsessions. I lowered myself down and looked back at the drone.

//Gunquake: Courtyard building looks like best bet.

//Gunquake: Could either enter from ground floor or get atop the roof from second floor south-side.

//Clara: Affirmative.

I entered the small room once more. Machinery was giving me a headache. I was starting to believe that the test was less about getting Jolt, and more about how I could subdue and arrest him without getting beaten to death by the dozens of workers. Satchel had… nineteen restraints left. Even if I knocked everyone out with Nerve shot, they might recover before the League or cops showed up - giving them enough time to recover and free any restrained hobgoblins.

My eyes went down to my unconscious victim. He was still half on the balcony, and there were no doors to this opening, so he should survive my plan. Selectloader switched in an Incendiary shot, and I fired it into his grubby mattress. It lit up in places where he’d leaked oil or something on it. Small flames that would take time to build, but an eventual distraction. Time for me to head back downstairs.

A little more slow paced and cautious than my usual fare. Not even really because this was a League job - but more due to the fact that the two women back home would be mad if I was reckless and got hurt. As just a tech hero, I was sure to get my fair share of bumps and scrapes over time. But I shouldn’t roll the dice when it wasn’t needed.

Paused at the top of the stairs to attach a trip-wire across the top step. No explosives today, just a hazard. Gun-arm then went out as I was halfway down the set of steps. With the hum of my V-Force drive spooling up, I sprayed the first few stairs down with lubricant. As I stopped firing, my gun ejected a sharp hiss like a sneeze to cleanse the barrel of anything remaining.

Continued down, repeating the process by making the top three stairs between each floor slippery as fuck. The smell was indeed horrific, even through my gas-mask. One last sneeze and I had reached the ground floor once more. Perhaps this block was mostly the workers currently out in the field.

//Clara: All clear.

The drone met me at the bottom of the stairwell, content enough that my allergy-bound gun-arm hadn’t drawn the attention of anyone. I thumbed a replacement Incendiary shot from my belt into the selectloader. Hadn’t brought many of them, so I’d need to make them count.

Up against the double doors leading to the corner building, it looked as though my first guess had been close to correct. Warm glow of a fire from the back corner illuminated a dozen or so picnic tables, as if they had been moved in here when the courtyard was cleared. The smell of something burning, and the jovial, scratchy tones of their voices. Some must be drunk. Raised roof as if the floor above had been destroyed, and no staircase leading upward.

One exit on the left wall, and I couldn’t see the far right from where I stood. Around ten hobgoblins chatting or chewing through whatever smelled like burned rubber. Most important thing was to make sure nobody set off an alarm.

No, the most important thing was to win.

I took a few steps back and then barreled my way through the doors, gun-arm firing out a Water shot into the open fireplace. The bright amber illumination suddenly extinguished with a loud hiss, plunging the room into dim light. Shock had the hobgoblins pause in surprise, their eyes struggling to adjust to the change in brightness.

Reflex flooded through my synapses, briefly slowing proceedings as my gun-arm worked overtime to pump out five Nerve shots in quick succession. Five hobgoblins at the back right tables flopped over to the floor just as I reached the closest three. Left fist lashed out, the gauntlet catching the stunned reveler in the nose, bursting blood across the second in my way.

Hand grabbed their rounded head as the first fell back, and I twisted and slammed their face into the wooden table. Either their teeth shattered, or the table splintered. Although… the wooden planks couldn’t bleed, so maybe that narrowed it down. Gun-arm with the follow-up blasted the third with a Nerve shot to the face.

That left two. I had been accurate with my original count.

In seeing the very abrupt carnage I had leveled, one decided to split for the door, while the other readied to scream out.

With Reflex having sunk away from my system, I had to pick my targets. Rubber shot went out, shattering the knee of the running one, causing him to collapse to the ground like a sack of rocks. Chamber went back and forth, pumping in a new Nerve shot as the second screamed. Ear-piercing, even beyond what my ear defenders could mute. Overcharge flashed through and lit up the hobgoblin, silencing them abruptly.

I put a little anger behind that one.

A quick Nerve shot into each that had just received some blunt force damage. Empty cartridges bounced across the floor, rolling from my position as I stepped over to the exit door and pressed myself up against the wall.

Didn’t want to rush into danger, but hanging around too long would get me found out, eventually. I was… still unsure why I even attempted stealth missions.

Surely I’d be more at home being the diplomat. My abilities might bend towards me being persuasive and amiable, but… I was still a killer. Not much chance I could talk my way into this place and out with the target. It wasn’t even the role the League wanted me to play.

That’s why we were being sneaky - the vigilante anti-hero lurking in the shadows to deal out some justice in slightly illegal ways. A few broken bones were worth the safety of Goldarch.

Eyes went down to the hobgoblin with the broken leg playing dead. I might have believed he passed out from the shock if he didn’t keep peeking at me with one eye to see if I had gone yet.

I lifted his scrawny body up by his thick overalls. Might not have long been off shift. He was sweating now and squirmed from the pain. Small tusks jutting up from a mouth clenched closed. Pushed him up against a wall, his feet dangling a foot and a half from the floor. Barrel of my gun-arm went up to his neck.

[Tell me where Jolt God is and I’ll spare your life.]

His pale eyes with oddly shaped pupils tried to avoid looking at me. While one of his hands came up to try to pry my hand away from his clothes, the other pointed at his neck, drawing a cross on it.

Perhaps he was scared of getting killed for giving away the position of the villain, or…

[Are you mute?]

He nodded his head rather violently, relieved to be understood and not dead.

The jumpsuit overalls he had on almost reminded me of what Clara often wore. His hair was cut short on the sides, with a tuft down the center - not that dissimilar to Roxy’s. It was as if someone had merged the three of us into a gangly creature of mild nightmares and terrible body odor.

[Find me one day and I will get you a vocalizer. Gunquake. Remember that.]

Fired the Nerve shot into his neck, causing minor scratches, but his brain short-circuited imagining the damage a normal shot would have caused.

“Hello?” a low gravelly voice came from the doorway, as a beam of light washed into the room.

I rolled my eyes as the chamber ejected the empty shell, and I turned around the corner. Hobgoblin with an older appearance than the rest. No shirt, but his slacks had rows of keys attached. An electric lantern on its last legs in his hand, his eyes widened at seeing me appear around the corner. I grabbed the light and pulled him toward me, striking him in the face with my metal elbow.

Out cold, and with a nice bruise due to come up tomorrow. I paused for a second to regard him. Had a long knife on the opposite side to his keys, but no time to draw it. If anything, I started to see why Roxy had said being attacked was part of the job. I had thought it strange that the wizard from Five Eyes had come to her house to tussle, but after these roughed-up hobgoblins recovered and knew my face…

I wouldn’t put it past them to seek me out for revenge.

Doubly so when they put me up on the television. I had overshot escaping the shadows and was heading toward the sky to become a star.

Perhaps I’d best not fuck this up before I started stroking my own ego.

After snuffing out the lantern, I chose to leave the keys. Where I was going, they wouldn’t be necessary, and I’d not stand around fiddling to find the right one. If anything, what I needed was an easy way to block doorways. Once Clara had gotten the machine, we’d need to process a bunch of Foam shells again.

Out through the doors and into the next hallway, and I could see why I hadn’t drawn more attention. The metal building out in the courtyard looked to span inside the regular building, as instead of another corridor this way, there was instead a heavy doorway. Locked, no doubt.

To my right was a stairwell, leading up. No barrier to entry. Path of least resistance was as good as any - especially since I had decided to drop in to the overseers through their roof. League would eat that shit up. I paused halfway up the first set of stairs and turned back to the small area before the metal door.

Lubricant sprayed across that square area, as well as the steps up to where I was standing. A hiss as the barrel cleared itself at the end. I tried to keep my mind away from other things that we could fill it with. The expanding Foam? Oh, couldn’t help myself.

I hadn’t bothered restraining any of the dining room workers, as I could see the bigger picture. A quick glance at the drone inspecting my handiwork with my new tank, and I was all but set, knowing what I had to do to impress the League here.

First thing, though… I needed to find an excuse to try out Triple shot.