My eyes opened up, and I felt like a new man.

It was a new day. Judging by the light in the room, I had probably slept a good fifteen hours or so. The prior day felt like a good dream - the swirls of jovial socialization, my birthday slash celebratory party, and some promise hinted for the future.

The rest of the bed was empty, and there was no techie sitting by my side to make sure I was fine. For several moments, I listened to the peace surrounding me, only slightly concerned that I may have died during my sleep. The smell of coffee and something else cooking managed to reach my re-breather, and I committed to meeting the day and finding out how real this was.

My legs were… mine. Cybernetic, of course, but any lingering disassociation has eked itself out of my psyche overnight. No doubt, once I eventually met my end, there would be a few people interested in dissecting me to see how I ticked.

Out of bed and I pulled on some clean compression shorts and a t-shirt. This pair of shorts ended at my knees, the dark fabric blending into the metal of the replacement parts like I was wearing a black supersuit. I liked the look. After giving my back a stretch, I turned to the doorway and left.

The smell of cooking was more intense on the landing. Banana bread, if I wasn’t mistaken. I was in such a good mood that I didn’t even feel envious of those who could eat it. My feet took me halfway down the stairs before I paused to look at the bottom.

[Good morning, Warlock.]

Or afternoon, whatever it was. The kitten was standing at the bottom of the stairs, winding up to wail back at me in response.

Roxy poked her head out from the kitchen doorway. “Afternoon, babe. Poor critter has been crying for you all morning. He is too small to get up the stairs.”

[What could he possibly desire from me with such impatience?]

“Take that up with him.” She smiled and ducked back into the kitchen, but continued to talk. “Come grab a fresh can and then give me an honest appraisal of your well-being. As the second in command, I need to know how fucked we are tonight.”

I had a smart comment loaded up in the chamber about our activities last night, but let it slide. There was still the chance she killed me accidentally, and this was all a dream. I plucked the kitten up and held him against my chest. After a moment of squirming, he was then calm.

[I’m not sure I ever heard that there was a second-in-command position within the team.]

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll accept that rather quickly.”

I stepped into the kitchen. In a word, it was a mess. Although the super looked cool as a cucumber, she was clearly using baking as a way to deal with her pre-mission stress. She read that thought process straight from my brain and gave me an unapologetic shrug.

“Clara won’t talk to me, and I didn’t want to wake you up earlier as you were resting. It was either pull my hair out while Warlock cried for you non-stop, or do something productive.”

[Post-mission party?]

She bit her tongue. Looking around at the flour everywhere, several surfaces covered with muffins and other still-warm baked cakes, she relented at the suggestion. “Sure, assuming we let the rest of the team go wash off before coming over? I’m not having the house stink like sewer shit. Roy owes me some credits for losing in the arm wrestling match, anyway.”

I could tell she was secretly happy that we’d be socializing again. While she wasn’t so out in the open as I had been about it, her life must have been rather lonely until we started butting heads. The rekindled friendship with the heroes had been a huge plus for the both of us. Even with my wits sharper this morning, I still had no idea why the Captain would even accept a bet over a contest of strength with Roxy of all people.

She came over to me, the fresh canister in her hand. “Out with it then, Dubs. What fresh hell are you living through today?”

[Other than broken pelvises…]

“Shut the fuck up.” She leaned forward and gave me a peck on the re-breather, her hand petting Warlock on his head. The cat had remained placid and content ever since I had picked him up, and now vibrated with a purr.

Maybe an odd decision to name him after one of my dead squad members. Usually I got my therapy between spates of mania or explosive violence, so this was a healthier alternative. While most of my past group was shrouded in the unknown, I had hit a connection somewhere in there. Warlock had been a friend, and on my side whenever the rift had happened. Clinging to this positive memory and tying it to the cat might be a way for me to start pulling threads into my mind in a safer way.

[I’m actually feeling very at peace with everything. So far I have no pain, delusions, or anguish to report. Unless this whole domestic bliss thing is imagined because I’ve died or have really gone insane.]

“Domestic bliss,” she repeated. Her eyes went around the productive calamity that had struck the kitchen, then at the small kitten nestled in my hand, before finally back into my eyes. “It’s a promising start, isn’t it? Part of me feels it won’t last… things with me usually don’t - but! You’re different. Things are good. You… I think you complete me, Natural Disasters team leader Gunquake.”

[Then we’ll never be apart, as I wouldn’t want you to be anything but your best self.]

Roxy gave me a pout before pulling me closer for a hug and softer kiss, being careful not to squish Warlock. “I didn’t mention this before—so much has been going on—but the League ran some testing on me when I was locked up.”

[Oh? What kind of testing?]

“Nothing terrible. They have a… theory about my power. Reasonable as shit, if you ask me, but it’s not an exact science.” She stepped back and tilted her head. “Even as buff as I am, I shouldn’t have been able to pop Red Dust that easily. Severe burns, maybe. As a S-Rank, he could have resisted and fought back to some degree… but I tore through him like he was nothing.”

[Your power must be able to spike based on your mood? The anger you must have felt in seeing me…]

“That’s what they’re saying, but that’s not the end of it. League docs also think that it swings like a pendulum. The calmer I am pre-enrage, the higher the power spike. You make me pretty relaxed, so…”

[Ah, I see. You mean ‘dormant’, though.]

The longer she stayed in this content state, the deeper the well of pressure built up inside her. Bursting out the lava allowed her to reach past her current Ranking, even if only briefly.

“I wonder how powers are really chosen,” she pondered idly, as she helped replace my cannister. “Like it’s clearly not just strength and lava - I am volcanic as shit. Am I blessed by an outside force, like Belle? Even magic powers are somewhat explainable, and it’s definitely not technology. I embrace what I now am. It just confuses me.”

The kitten meowed his thoughts.

[I agree, Warlock. Natural Disasters second-in-command Rockslide needs to learn that answers often come when you don’t try to find them.]

“Alright, enough of your wisdom and smarm.” She held her hands out to retrieve the cat from me. “Go sort out Clara, would you? Her way of dealing with the stress is becoming a grouchy hermit, but she did want to explain that new ammunition to you.”

I tipped an invisible hat toward the super as a farewell and gave Warlock a quick pet before leaving. If I knew anything about Clara, she’d either be in the workshop or her office. Opening the front door, I took one step out onto the porch and paused.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

We had Sanguine stakes now - or at least our own variants. Metal that partially ignored super powers. Twenty of them. That was enough to erase four whole teams above us on the rankings.

I grimaced at my first violent thought of the day, as if I had knocked over a pot of ink. The pristine white of my heavenly day was now marred, and I rolled my eyes at the self-inflicted melodrama. The Stakes were a get-out-of-fuckville card, allowing me to win over odds than I’d normally be incapable of surviving. Mostly useful for our wasteland activities, but part of me knew that offing Red Dust was only the beginning of a dark adventure pinned somewhere in the future.

Today we just danced to the League’s tune, and I felt as spry as ever with my new legs.

The additional Quake shots were nice as well. I had to push the theme now that I had the bigwigs making money off me. Once I had the all-clear, I’d need to practice jumping from heights onto my ground-shattering feet. My eyes went across the yard to the massive carrier, looking no less impressive in the daylight. It needed a name, and I wanted something less packed full of cheese than just sticking ‘quake’ in front of a suitable noun.

I didn’t even make it two more steps across the soft grass before the workshop door opened up. Clara appeared in her usual working gear - although now with a new addition. Some manner of backpack that had two metal arms extending out in front of her. One held an open book, while the second on her left side split into several short fingers that had tools on the end. She met me in the middle and caught my raised eyebrow at the new tech.

“Helping Hands. Only D-Grade, but I had much more important things to spend my funds on this week.”

I glanced over at the large vehicle. Even with Director Kingston’s assistance, that couldn’t have been easy to procure. The techie followed my gaze and caught my train of thought.

“Not only that, Gunquake, but I have been pulling every string, working every favor owed, and pulling out all the blackmail I have to ensure the new outfits for the team are up to spec.”

[I’ll ignore that last part. Isn’t the League in charge of that?]

“Those at the League have a two-dimensional thought process, and mostly care about aesthetic. Looks are important for a hero's image, but they are shy about investing time and money into functional or… exotic options. One example is the arcane crystals. The League doesn’t know that Belle needs a bracer of them, and we can’t be overt in showing them.” She crossed her arms. “The rest you’ll see when we meet the team before the mission.”

[Understandable. Any last-minute tech we need to go over?]

Clara nodded and stepped forward to place her palm on my forehead. “Rockslide was under instruction to only send you to me if you were in good condition. There will be a point today where you will tire, but your stamina for enduring your legs will have increased.” Her hand withdrew. “You will scale back your involvement in the mission as soon as your mind starts to waver, understood?”

[Is that an order?]

The techie narrowed her eyes. “If you know what is good for you, Gunquake. Which history suggests you do not. Please make an exception, not just for the success of the mission, but for those of us that care for you.”

I felt a pang of guilt. Coming to terms with my worth as a person had been a bloody and error-filled adventure that had dragged a handful of people through the mud. If the feeling of peace I had awoken with persisted, then perhaps I’d turned a new, cleaner leaf.

[You have my word that I will be cautious and not overextend.]

“More fool me, but I believe you.” She relaxed and gestured towards the workshop. “The Sunder shot I have created is an armor-piercing shell filled with the expanding foam. Good for jamming the working parts of mechanized foes, or splitting chitinous plates of insectoid monsters. I’m sure you could find more creative uses, Gunquake, but they will just go straight through soft targets without activating—just to forewarn you.”

[Understood. Handy to have on hand, the same as most of my ammunition types.]

“All of your lens functionality is now within your updated STAR tech, but I have replaced your goggles with the tech-less variant. Other than that, there are no additions or alterations to your gear.”

I nodded and looked down at my feet.

“Custom boots are a work in progress.” She sighed. “You could wear your normal ones tonight, as I suggest you don’t use your legs for anything but walking. I know you can’t be stopped, however.” The techie gestured to her temple. “I’m forwarding the mission briefing to you now that we’ve established you are coherent enough to proceed. As your sidekick I am always beholden to your every whim, but now that you’re the leader you are afforded the same advisory services I granted Rockslide.”

A notification popped up at the top of my vision to tell me the documents had been received. Roy had already yapped about the most important details. Head to a sewer base and arrest the madman mutating stray animals and stolen pets into abominations. The actual details were more granular than that, and I focused on the actual process.

“There are two potential entrances to the lair,” Clara explained as I read through. “Vertical entrance that is almost right on top of the target's area of influence, but is nearby the busy mall area, or a horizontal maintenance tunnel that is much further away and would require extra walking.”

I nodded along as the gears in my mind turned. It was a blessing that I had my senses with me this afternoon and could think clearly.

[You said that you can remotely control the… Meteor?]

“Fitting name, Gunquake. Yes, I can.”

[We’ll take the longer route if you could park the vehicle over the sewer entrance near the mall after we disembark.]

“Oh? Certainly. May I ask for your reasoning?” She tilted her head, visibly curious.

[The mall offers better visibility when it comes to publicity, but the close proximity to the villain’s lair is too dangerous in case he tries to run. Shit always hits the fan, and we can’t risk the monsters actually becoming a danger to the public. The longer route will afford us space to retreat if necessary, and placing the Meteor in that position not only blocks an escape route for our target but also generates publicity via just existing somewhere so visible.]

“So if all goes according to plan, you might exit the sewers through that route, literally revealing the team upon success.”

[Precisely. Any input on my decision?]

“No.” She smiled. “Run it by Rockslide, but I imagine you’ll receive nothing but praise. I know this is long past, but I’m happy to be your sidekick and part of your ascension.”

That made it sound like I was going to become something great. The potential was there; I had to admit. While there were wolves stalking around the darkness, the campfire was currently bright and warm. Becoming a hero under the League was an excuse to break off the rust of my past experience, and really excel at something - without needing to kill.

Before I could give her a response, her eyes went past me. A familiar wail drew my attention, and I turned to see Warlock trotting through the grass toward us. Just before he got to our position, he sped up, almost sprinting in the direction of the open door of Clara’s office.

“Rockslide said he is almost as much of a diva as I am.” She crossed her arms again and gave the cat a disapproving glare. “Which is why I went off to the workshop to pout instead of talking with her more.”

[You two couldn’t be any more different. Is it safe for him to be running about outside?]

I avoided most of her glare by adding the question after the statement. “The protective dome also acts as a barrier due to how small and weak he is. Even if he is strong willed, he won’t want to leave the safety, and nothing can get in. Oh, that reminds me. I’ve added Doctor Jarl to the whitelist, so the turrets don’t turn him into mincemeat when he comes to assist me with your new arm.”

[Reasonable. He really is interested in helping, then?]

“Practically begging, Gunquake. Your leg accident and rendezvous with the Doctor has been a step up for me as well. I am now his assistant rather than a student. Taken under his wing as his protégé. The best cybernetics expert on the continent.”

[And you didn’t even have to bribe him.]

“Partially true.” She rolled her eyes and looked over at the warehouse. “I have promised him some of the metal from the mecha.”

Assuming his assistance would get me a hand much quicker, that seemed a reasonable compromise. From what I have heard from the grumblings of all involved, working with the ancient metal was a huge pain. The hobgoblins had been having trouble melting and shaping it, and we’d only been able to split small parts with the help of Roxy’s full power.

[I can’t think of two better people I’d trust to create a new hand for me. It’s just a shame you’re being so tight-lipped about it.]

“A shame for you, Gunquake. I’m not in the market of making false promises, and I do not want potential functionality to be known until it is tested and working. I’ve even had Doctor Jarl sign a non-disclosure agreement.”

[It must be pretty serious, then.]

Clara paused, wrinkling up her face for a moment before responding. “I dare say it would be the best work of my life, Gunquake. A shame to peak so young, but perhaps there’s a way you can reward me for my selflessness in the future. Assuming it works, of course.”

[If it is that important, then anything you desire.]

“Hmm.” She shot me a smirk before turning away to return to her office. “You have a few hours before we need to get ready, Gunquake. Familiarize yourself with Meteor while I finish work on my new drone.”

I watched her leave, slightly envious that Warlock was hanging out with her for a bit. Understandable, of course. No doubt she had been up late pottering about with research or preparation. It was likely she had a bed for him right next to her warm computers. If anything, that actually made me feel comforted that he’d be nice and safe while the rest of us were out on our mission.

The chamber on my gun-arm opened and closed with a muted clack as I shook my limbs out. I turned to the large vehicle and stepped forward.

My eyes went past it and the other buildings toward Goldarch. Tonight I would lead a team of my friends against a villain threatening the city…

No, this was my city.

Intentions clear and morale at an all-time high, the STAR chose this time to tell me that full functionality was now unlocked. Something told me they were making sure I wasn't overstimulated while recovering, and it wasn't the hovering notifications appearing and stacking on top of each other.

I raised my eyes to several new streams of incoming messages, picking out one from a very unexpected sender.