On the west side of the southern building, I paused on the stairs to the second floor. Voices. I pressed myself against the wall and held my hand out. Clara landed the drone on it expertly, the spinning blades powering down so that she was silent. Two figures stepped out into the stairwell on the floor just below us.
Had they heard me?
I trained my hearing to try to pick their conversation up - they had stopped before descending. Both with gruff tones and rougher language than I was used to, but one of them seemed more annoyed than the other.
Gist of it seemed to be one was keen to go downstairs and get something to eat, but the other was griping that they were behind quota and Jolt God would be angry if they left their shift before the work was done. They also used plenty of swear words and other slang I hadn’t heard before, but by the end of it, the pair turned back and grumbled their way toward whatever was on the first floor.
I gave the drone a nod and after the short delay; it powered back up, and I released it into the air beside me. Satisfied, I allowed myself to exhale. While this mission would inevitably turn into an all-out brawl—as did most of my work—I was keen to delay that as long as possible. Less chance of getting a sword or bullet through my head that way.
This section of the hobgoblin outpost had more activity. Given that things looked to work in shifts, I shouldn’t have to worry about running into too many random opponents. I was… almost disappointed. Usually I found comfort in chaos, although often that’s what led me closer to the grave.
There was another reason I wanted something a little extra, however. Ever since we had dredged up my old call sign, there had been a lump of something just sitting in the back of my head. At first I thought it was just my emotions or a little trauma weighing on me. Wasn’t everyday you got to briefly relive being left to die in a ditch.
By whom, though?
No, not important right now. I was pretty sure that the aching feeling in my mind was some more synapse powers, eager to slime their way back into my conscious thoughts. Maybe not new… but an extension? Last time I got something worthwhile was under duress, but this felt like something already in plain view, just dried over like a forgotten grave.
If I had more time to focus on it…
I stopped at the edge of the second floor, back against the wall. Could hear slight movements in the room around the corner. I didn’t want to sit around all evening, but I needed more information on what I was about to step into.
Hmm. Reflex was like an Overcharge for the synapses that controlled my shotgun… but maybe I was being too strict with it. My whole arm was controlled by synapses.
I only had so much time before either my decoy fire or one of my pools of lubricant was found. Through a little luck I had made it almost to my destination, but now it was time for a little old Dubs action.
//Gunquake: Making my move, breaking cover.
//Clara: Affirmative, I’ll watch your six.
We needed to get the drone a gun.
I took a breath in and then stepped out around the corner. A small control room had been set up in this lobby area. On the right side wall was a long computer that looked a good decade out of date, and totally out of place here in the hobgoblin building. Two workers were sat staring at the flat monitors, although one looked asleep.
Left side of the room had a table covered in empty bottles and half-eaten food, a pair of feet on it as another hobgoblin sat leaning back on a small wooden chair. Just behind him was another, standing and doing maintenance on a held weapon. Both of them looked more like security guards than workers, given their outfits.
They also looked in my direction as I stepped in.
Nerve shot into one as I received return fire from what looked to be some manner of crossbow. The sleeping worker startled and fell from their chair, while the one who had been focused on the monitors spun around in shock. Second nerve shot came out before the security hob’ could reload his weapon.
As empty shells bounced on the stone floor, I put the other two into states of unconsciousness. I was somewhat disappointed with their lack of combat-readiness. Almost felt bad about just strolling through and knocking all of them out with such ease. Had I gotten that much stronger? Quicker?
-Minor piercing wound (Left Clavicle)
I rolled my eyes at the notification and pulled the bolt from my upper chest. Body armor had removed most of the force of it, and despite it breaking the skin, I was certain I’d heal over it in no time. As I dropped the small length of sharp metal, I wondered if any of my Advanced level abilities were something to do with my ‘class’.
Instead of jumping to any conclusions, I walked around and put restraints on all four hobgoblins in this room. Shot a brief glance at the drone as it hovered over the control panels, while I clipped the last of our opponents up. This one was female, and looked rather sad, being relaxed and unconscious. Perhaps I was too used to fighting hardened thugs and wasteland mutants. While the hobgoblins under Jolt God were an enemy of Goldarch, the individuals I had come across weren’t really built and ready for fighting.
Felt like I was punching down. That might just be part of this test.
Agent W would have had no issue carving his way through this place, breaking necks and blowing bloody chunks from the wiry framed creatures. Had spending time being cracked open by Roxy and Clara softened me up to having empathy? Was this my bardic nature bubbling to the surface, causing me to want to make friends rather than fill body bags?
//Clara: This is interesting, Gunquake.
//Clara: Looks like they have an old drop-pod launcher somewhere.
//Clara: This is the controller unit connected to it.
I shuffled my introspection to the side and stepped over to where the drone was turning slowly to take in the long panels of switches, dials, and flat screens brimming with green shapes and text.
//Gunquake: Drop-pod launcher?
//Clara: Think of it like a space shuttle, but for a single humanoid occupant.
//Clara: And used to cover maybe five or so miles, like a mortar.
//Gunquake: That’s safe?
//Clara: To varying degrees.
//Clara: It looks like they are repurposing it to launch their bombs.
My head nodded slowly. While the League had said there was a bomb, it didn’t take a technical genius to see the amount of production taking placing in the courtyard. They were making a lot more than just a singular munition.
//Clara: Launch bay has five pod launchers, but one is out of operation.
//Clara: Others currently unoccupied…
//Clara: But the coordinates for the landing spot are a suburb in Goldarch west of here.
//Gunquake: Are you able to change the coordinates?
//Clara: I… think so… yes - look over this side.
I followed the drone to the right, as she hovered near a board with some open ports. From beneath the lingering techie, a small cable detached and hung down. Didn’t need to be too knowledgeable to recognize this as a Universal Electronic Tech connector. The things had become standard across a lot of the continent a couple of decades ago, bringing a golden era where most things now had a standard connector type rather than dozens of variants.
While I kept an ear open to our surroundings, I guided the plug into the waiting socket on the board. Clara even managed to keep things professional.
//Clara: Connected.
//Clara: Did you want to disable it?
//Gunquake: Negative. Change coordinates to the following.
I’d brought up a map in my lense quickly, and sent her some details across. Couldn’t linger here for too long because I needed to find a window - something this room lacked. I closed my eyes and tried to filter out the noise surrounding me. As much as I had the basics of a plan in place, the means to fulfill it were… well, I’d be hoping for a little luck to smooth out the edges.
Standard, at this point.
//Clara: Completed. Please disconnect me.
I did as she asked, thankful that she didn’t question what I had planned. Either because she could read between the lines, or she was playing this sidekick gig rather dry. We still needed time to ease into what our in-field partnership could accomplish. I reiterated the thought that the drone could do with a gun.
Or what we really needed was an influx of credits.
While the continued drone of factory work vibrated through the walls, I stepped toward the next doorway.
I started to see why there were few tech superheroes, and that most of them seemed to come from money or require a lot of resources. It was probably fine for Bucket, but for a misfit crawling out of the wastelands, I only had a slim chance due to the stockpile of blood money I had been hoarding like a dragon.
With me building up the best sidekick I could possibly ask for, and trying to sequester enough to get a new face, there wasn’t a lot of funds left for making me as obnoxious as possible. I was a mixture of different cybernetic class parts and gear grades. Some of it odd or civilian spec, others decent enough for an A-Rank hero.
Boot kicked the door open. A small room illuminated brightly by the large open window on the left side. Singular hobgoblin stood there with large headphones on, working some levers as he glared idly out to the factory work. Hopefully it wasn’t anything mission critical.
Nerve shot before he even noticed I was there. Restrained, and I dragged his body over to the back of the room against a grubby table and pair of chairs. Could feel the grains of sand fall through the hourglass, almost time to make my grand entrance.
Stepped over to the open window and could sense the heat of the production line radiating throughout the courtyard. Metal roof of the overseer’s building was about a dozen feet drop from my current position.
I heard yelling and narrowed my eyes out to the moving machinery. Had I been spotted in the window already? Or the lack of movement from whatever the worker had been doing raised suspicion? I saw a hobgoblin in a welding mask point upwards, to the top of the southwest of the dorms. My eyes followed suit - and the wisps of dark smoke from the fire I had started were now billowing from the open balcony.
Part one complete.
Several started to down tools and make their way to that side of the courtyard. Others looked concerned but couldn’t tear themselves away from the important machinery operation, instead just yelling unintelligible things at those less critical to the metal processing.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
We needed a little more chaos before I could introduce myself.
Gun-arm went up, selectloader pushing in a different cartridge. While most attention was focused on my left side, I aimed over at one of the machines on the right side - nearer the back of things.
An unheard thunk from my shotgun and the tall stamp-press machine burst out with a Smoke shot. Didn’t look entirely believable, but if enough eyes were looking at the actual fire, then they’d be in enough of a panic to not question the apparently malfunctioning apparatus.
//Gunquake: Keep some distance, I’m going in.
//Clara: Affirmative.
Would be embarrassing to take the drone out myself. I’d never hear the end of it. With the workers in disarray, I took a deep breath and calmed myself. Thumbed in a replacement Smoke shell.
And then loaded up a Triple shot.
With little ceremony, I stepped onto the panels and swung myself out of the window. A brief amount of vertigo and fresh air, and then I hit the metal paneling on the roof.
As I went to roll, a large section groaned and squealed - my hopes that it wasn’t built too well paying off. With a heavy thunk and clatter of ejected steel bolts, I collapsed inward to the building below.
Gun-arm fired the Triple shot, V-Force drive crackling as three shells pulsed out together as one. Quake. Smoke. Smoke.
As I landed and rolled, the rest of the structure groaned and vibrated, my signature attack threatening to disassemble the whole thing with the pulses of V-Force power. Dense fog had obscured the wide chamber as soon as I was back up to my feet - but I could see the outlines of those within it.
Five or six normal hobgoblins, but there was one close by that had a larger silhouette. Maybe armor or—more likely—some kind of tech.
Gun-arm went up, and I fired a Nerve shot into him. My muscles tensed up as a blue light radiated from their position. Force field. Boots bit into the loose metal panels on the floor and I launched toward the shape and lashed out with a kick, aiming for his head.
I snapped back as the crackle of lightning burst from the figure, arcing through the thick gray smoke and running up my leg. It felt numb now as I tried to ready myself. Reactive armor - something I wanted to deal with speed supers. Almost nice to see it in action.
“What pitiful mortal stands against Jolt God?” the mysterious creature, who was probably Jolt God, screeched through the obscuring cloud.
Like the rest of the hobgoblins in the room, he was at least stuck in place for another couple of seconds while my Quake shot reverberated through the flimsy overseer chamber. Then again, so was I, until I regained use of my leg. Perhaps I’d ham things up for the League.
[Gunquake. I’m here to prevent your attack on Goldarch.]
“Sounds like I have been blessed with fresh tech parts,” the response came, hearing the slight robotic reverberation at the end of my sentence.
While I was reasonably sure the odd angle at which the prior roof now sat below my feet was due to landing on a hobgoblin or two, I was thankful at least I hadn’t landed on Jolt. That would have looked really bad for the League.
//Gunquake: Find me the launchers.
//Clara: Affirmative.
Part of me missed our usual candor. The other part raised an eyebrow at how quickly my smoke was dissipating - not only through the wide window taking up one side of the room, but they must have some manner of induction fans in here as well.
I took the last second of Quake vibration to tap one of the workers with Nerve, turning as I reloaded to debilitate a second. Crackle of electricity from Jolt drew my attention as the rest of the hobs’ recovered from my entrance.
A zap of bright blue snapped across the room to strike me, my boots grounding me partially, but left arm now also sagged against the shock twisting through my muscles. Stims kicked in and I felt warm.
Chamber clacked open, awaiting my response, as I watched the smoke wash away from my target.
Slightly taller than most of his companions, Jolt was an amalgamation of shoddy tech and scarred skin. Briefly, I supposed most tech heroes and villains would have some identical streaks to them. The hobgoblin boss had two gauntlets - large fists with various pistons and wires snaking through exposed parts. Electricity currently flickered and arced between the parts just behind the knuckles.
Shoulder pads stood up from his narrow shoulders, each with an electrified coil on top. Helmet with metal prongs pointing upward that looked like an appliance plug. Body was mostly bare, his gray-green skin bearing the marks of long healed burn marks. A wide belt encircled his narrow hips - the source of his projectile force-field, I was sure. Thick boots that were probably more than a fashion statement.
While his red eyes burned with fury at me, he didn’t seem to have any cybernetic parts. It was all external - although his aptitude for getting them functional was far beyond the smarts of most of his kind. This outpost also tasted like a treasure trove of things to bring back home for Clara.
League probably had a dim view on looting, however.
“Robot-human, parts too large, but I’ll take you apart all the same.” He grinned, sharp teeth running with fresh saliva as his fists powered up again.
[I’m about to rain on your parade, criminal.]
Internally, I cringed. This was it, though - living the cliche I had tried to avoid… would be my full-time vocation if I wanted it.
Gun-arm flashed upward as I fired a sideloaded Water shot into the part of the roof above him that hadn’t collapsed. The confidence in his face quickly sunk away as the expanded droplets splashed down on him.
Bright sparks and crackles from the exposed power being doused in liquid briefly blinded everyone in the metal room. I wouldn’t be so easily distracted.
Putting full faith in my stims powering my inert muscles, I leaped toward Jolt. Gun-arm pulled back. I wanted to test out exactly how right I could be.
Instead of allowing Reflex to take control of my firing mechanisms, I instead forced it around the parts that just moved my arm. Elbow and shoulder joints. As I neared the disorientated villain, my arm darted forward with an audible snap. It wrenched at where the arm was grafted to the rest of me, but was a punch with three times the force I could usually pull off.
The end of the barrel struck the central part of his belt. Jolt flung backward, stumbling into the rows of control panels just below the open window. Core part of his belt was cracked and leaked some necessary fluid.
He growled at me, both gauntlets disconnecting from his arms and dropping to the floor. “I don’t like tricks,” he hissed, twitching through the pain I had caused him.
Before I could formulate a decent response, his outstretched hand slammed at a button to his right. Alarm bells started to ring within the room, with a siren spooling up to blare amongst the machinery outside.
Chamber clacked in a Nerve shot, and he… turned and leaped through the window.
Slippery. I turned and nailed one of the pensive workers who had drawn a weapon but not had the courage to step toward me. Reloaded as I looked to the last who was still standing, frozen in fear.
[Medical attention is required in the dining area.]
Didn’t receive a response, but I had already turned and jettisoned my own way out of the window. Landed into a roll on dirty gravel and metal shavings. Ahead of me, the scrambling Jolt ran into the east wing of the dorms.
//Clara: Launchers are in the east wing.
//Clara: Hold.
//Clara: He dropped a prox grenade behind second machine.
//Clara: Contact behind you.
I looked up briefly to see the drone hovering a good twenty or so feet above me. Quite likely, she had just saved my legs from being blown off. I wondered if the villain was planning a last-ditch attack against Goldarch, or more of his tech was hidden that way. Maybe he had read the script and wanting a cliche showdown.
Turning, there were now a handful of hobgoblins who had some manner of bravery - and a selection of crossbow-styled weapons. I dove into a roll behind the closest machine as several sharpened metal bolts whizzed through the air where I had been standing. The vibrating machine was warm to the touch, even through my glove. Large enough to obscure me…
Original plan was to drop a Smoke in the path I had just been, and circle further into the production line so that the hobs’ might assume I went ahead. I’d let them set off the trap laid for me and then proceed.
But… I didn’t want them to suffer that fate.
I grunted. Getting soft. Smoke shot went out just before they had tried to peek the corner. Instead of circling, I was right in their faces already. Gauntlet lashed out into the first while a second took Nerve to the gut. Spun through the obscuring cloud as one made a reckless attack with the sharp sides of their crossbow. Missed me and they received a metal elbow to the temple in return.
Stamped down on a foot and wrestled the weapon away from the next, tossing it back behind the second machine. Nerve shot sealed the deal on the group.
As the proximity grenade exploded, I emerged from the resultant dark cloud billowing from the scarred ground, pulling out the bolts from my right thigh and left of my stomach.
//Clara: Route to the building is clear.
There was enough chaos whirling around the place that I didn’t have to worry about fighting fifty of the bastards. Most of them tied down on the west side. I made it across the heated and bright courtyard without any other group accosting me, to go straight toward the small doorway my target had escaped into.
Drone hovered down to meet me. As nice as it would be to have the forewarning of what was inside, it was too dangerous to send her in first. I had some ideas of how to correct that, when we had our debriefing together. Assuming I didn’t find a way of messing this up, at least.
Stepped into the darkness and a metal bolt bounced from my cyborg shoulder.
“Ah, fuck!” my assailant screeched from down the end of a short corridor. He tripped over his overalls as I nailed his legs with a Nerve shot. “He’s coming!” he continued to wail, as if it hadn’t been clear from his sudden injury.
I sighed and dropped my drum mag down into the clip on my belt, replacing it with the Smoke ten-mag, although it was a few short by now.
First one into the chamber and out at the squirming worker. Gray cloud bloomed up to obscure the area. A couple of premature bolts clattered at the wall before I got close. Too much ambient noise for them to hear me step into the room, and no visual clues. I stooped and put restraints on the one who was trying to crawl away.
“Ah! He’s got me!”
Three others in the room in the back left corner, so I strode to the back right. Judging by their body language, they weren’t prepared to fight against someone like me. The one who had been holding their shot fired off into where I had been, while one of them was really struggling to reload - panic evident even if I could just see their wavering outline.
Elbow to the side of the head of the first, my hand grabbing and twisting the weapon away from the second. I dropped it to the floor as he rotated and clipped restraints on him - before kicking him into the third. Gun-arm went out and pushed the last staggered worker into the back wall, barrel up to his neck.
[Drop it.]
Crossbow clattered to the floor as his hands went up into the air.
“Don’t shoot!” he begged.
[Where are the important inventions stored?]
The hobgoblin shook with fear beneath the press of my weapon. “Third floor. There are s-stairs just around the corner.”
[Try to live a life without hurting others.]
“Y-yes? I will-”
Quick snap of my elbow to the side of his head and he was unconscious. His limp body collapsed to the floor just as the smokescreen was clearing. I could get used to this superhero thing.
No point asking where Jolt God had gone, as that would have been too personal. A neutral location was easier to get out of them, even if the answer led to the same conclusion.
Drone came in as the cloud cleared, Clara unable to see through the fog - I assumed. It also revealed the worker who I had only shot with Nerve in the legs. His wide eyes looked up at me, considering what his best options were in this situation. I pointed my gun at the one I had just knocked out.
[Was he lying?]
The hobgoblin licked at his lips, not entirely trusting me for some reason.
[If you are truthful and can stay quiet for ten minutes, I won’t come back and remove all your teeth with my boot.]
“H-he was telling the truth,” he yammered, before immediately clamming up. He looked as though he believe I might count that outburst as breaking the be-quiet rule.
I nodded slowly and made the show of grinding my heel against the dirtied stone floor. The tension in his body as he got the picture was clear enough to me that he understood. So I turned and left through the door.
//Clara: Launchers are on the third floor as well.
//Clara: A section of the roof is removed.
//Gunquake: Understood.
There were indeed stairs just around the corner. My right eye twitched at the possibility of there being another proximity explosive… but the villain hadn’t been carrying much on him. Rather than launch rockets toward the city, it was equally as likely he was getting backup weapons to come finish me off.
Up to the first landing, and I sprayed the stairs down with lubricant.
-Tank Reserves 10%
Gun-arm sneezed to clear the barrel, although I didn’t know how well that could really do the job. No doubt my new ability would require further and more regular maintenance on my weapon. Something I was certain Clara would jump at the chance to do.
Paused at the exit of the first floor and looked around the corner. Rounded metal shapes all stacked in rows. Three high and at least a dozen deep. The drone went ahead of me slightly to get a better view.
//Clara: Hollow missile shells.
//Clara: Storage before payload processing.
Back to the stairs and the second floor had… what looked to be some manner of electric gate preventing access to the room beyond. Thick metal panels ran around the frame, with a blue glow in certain sections. Similar to the projectile force field, a high-tech locked door, essentially. If I really wanted to, I could just hit the edges of the frame with a High Explosive shot and sever the connectors. Usually, this kind of thing would be installed somewhere where the building wasn’t built to where you could almost just punch your way through the structure.
//Clara: Potentially where the payload is stored.
//Clara: Readings suggest something volatile, but nothing I can pinpoint.
I turned the corner up to the next staircase, a bright light immediately illuminating me.
Blinded, a burning sensation that warmed my entire body overwhelmed the rest of my senses.