[November 338th, GPY 2. Portunia. Choece, Ganymede. 1326 UGT.]
Settled within the outskirts of the largest metropolis on Choece's inner surface, was a relatively modest bar made of stone and synthetic woods. The structure, called Nagata's Shrine, had been built in the center of one of the many residential districts encircling the great city of Portunia. It was a squat building, hideously conspicuous in comparison to the sea of amorphous, oblong homes surrounding it. The entrance resembled a massive, medieval gate of space-grown hardwoods that harshly protruded from the otherwise flawless walls like they were tactlessly stamped on after the fact. Above, the crude sight was repeated in the form of a fenced rooftop patio made of the same material and adorned with tables, bars, chairs and benches from end-to-end.
Regardless of the day or time, the interior boasted the sights one would expect to see in any bar or lounge; no matter the era or locale, that was revered by its populace. An open space, crudely decorated with trinkets and doodads that all held some strange sentimental value to the owner of the establishment. Walls arranged with arcade booths and benches that bordered the long bar opposing the entrance with circular tables thrown in between that hosted any indoor drinking or card game conjurable by a collective of human minds. All of which being crowded by a mob of drinking, arguing, gambling, fighting and sleeping people that seemed to conjointly have no intention of leaving.
Among the madness, near the far right corner of the bar, was an sand-blonde haired man sitting by his lonesome. Averted to face the wall as hunched over a glass of whiskey. His sharp, childishly bald chin resting lazily on a palm of skin-toned metals and ceramics that extended sharply from the white suede enveloping his wrists. A pair of round-rimmed glasses hung lazily off the edge of his aquiline nose. Seeming to almost rest atop his sharp cheeks as well as noticeably magnify the cold, sapphire eyes staring intently at the bar-screen beside his elbow.
The dozens of other regulars in the establishment and even the bartender himself had rarely seen him focused so intently. On anything. Being amongst the highest ranked individuals in the establishment however, the other patrons silently agreed to give the man a substantial berth as soon as the anomalous behavior ensued.
With a sudden jerk of the head, he quickly shot down his drink before slamming the cup onto the bar with a thud loud enough to silence the otherwise perpetually rowdy crowd. If for only an instant. With a burning sigh, he absently waved to the bartender for a refill before repositioning his chin on the palm of his hand as if nothing had ever happened. Completing the entire sequence without breaking his gaze from the subject of peculiar interest
From his perspective, the resounding impact of his glass meeting the bar, the fall and subsequent rise of his peers' excitement and almost every other sound that bounced around the establishment had remained as silent as if they were all in hard vacuum.
The only exceptions were the obvious focus of his attention, and the bartender, Sam Fischer. A unit of a man who'd never been seen without the visor-like shades stretching over his eyes. Seamlessly adhering to his live soil colored skin. He slowly reached down with fingers the size of an infant's arm to refill the glass as requested. Eyeing his most favored patron curiously in the process.
While reclining back to stow the bottle in its place, Sam caught a glimpse of what had occupied the Galilean so fervently for last ten minutes. After a few seconds study, he felt the flush of embarrassment rushing alongside the tides of confusion. He inwardly cursed himself for; after having served him for so long, not knowing what was troubling his dearest customer before reaching out with the bottle once more to top it up to the brim.
"Thought you stopped paying attention to those things months ago, Arthur." The bartender slid a lighthearted chuckle in with his gesture as a subtle means to mask his prying.
From what he could gather, Arthur was enthralled in a campaign involving a Saturnian Knight and a nameless Astros. The metal-armed Galilean seemed madly driven to continue to fight against the likes of whom many others would rather avoid.
And getting absolutely destroyed because of it.
Without diverting his gaze, Arthur once again jerked his drink down his gullet before slamming the glass onto the bar and gesturing to the tender for another drink.
Sam grunted away his eager, anticipatory smile and began to turn away before Arthur called back out to him. "Actually, Sam." He whispered softly. "Cancel that order. I'm heading out."
Sam's massive head instantly tilted in confusion."He parsed another nervous glance at the screen, now powered down, before reducing the pitch of his voice to match Arthur's. "What's got you so riled up?"
"I've got to go beat some sense into my little brother." Arthur said as if he were discussing breakfast before rising from the bar to start for the door.
"Ah. I see." Sam's head nodded slowly in comprehension as he watched Arthur's figure egress from the door. 'You're one of his?"
***
[Software Downloading...]
[Download Complete.]
[Systems Updated.]
...
[November 345th, GPY 2. Bronio. Choece, Ganymede. 1131. UGT.]
[You have been Brutalized: -150 points.]
[You have been Slain: -200 points.]
[Merit: 211]
[Unread Messages: 2]
Jordan tossed his head while his eyes fluttered awake. Dismissing the swarm of notifications as he did so until the same doctor from before was revealed to be lounging over the arm of his seat. Amiably side eying Jordan, presumably whilst the latter was sleeping peacefully.
'What was his name again?' Jordan thought to himself as he squinted at the egg-bodied man harder.
[Name: Dr. Randolph Orpheus.]
[Merit: 2,421]
'Oh.' Jordan snorted and dismissed the digital panels before nodding to the doctor with only his head. "Good to see you're well, Randy."
The doctor only heaved silently in response and continued to stare idly at Jordan as if nothing were said. Not until the instant the latter tried to right himself in bed did he move from his place. Hurriedly; loudly, rushing on the wheels of his seat to Jordan's bedside where he worriedly asked. "How do you feel?"
"Uhm... Fine. I suppose?" Jordan hesitantly replied. "I-" His mouth tripped as the memories of the last campaign rushed into his mind. He'd been paralyzed. Beaten until his bones were dust and his nerves were fried to ash.
"You got fucked up." Randy cackled before Jordan's thoughts could even begin rev up to speed. "Again."
"Is that funny, Randy?" Jordan asked without a flinch of emotion.
"In two weeks!" Randy cackled. "In two weeks, you've managed to get yourself carved up more than most Galilean's do in half a year. You should get merit for that alone, if you ask me."
Jordan sucked at his teeth before replying but was once again cut off by Randy's booming voice. "You may not like things explained to you, Jordan," he said. "But, I have an inkling that there's so much information regarding your new internals that you won't even attempt to look at them. So, I'll tell you. Your new implants."
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
The doctor paused as if he were waiting for some sort of acknowledgment from Jordan before becoming somewhat flustered and reddening profusely in the face before continuing. "Spine. Ribs. Pelvis. In that order."
"Pelvis?" Jordan recoiled in confusion. He hadn't remembered his pelvis taking virtually any damage during the campaign, nor any prior.
"Too many stress fractures." Randy impatiently waved Jordan's aura of curiosity aside. "It was virtually already broken. Now, no more questions!"
"Your situation is a rarity." Randy began to explain in a proud, lecturatory tone. "While the spine, ribs and pelvis are the most popular body parts to be replaced or augmented, they're usually installed in stages, or intervals. Not many are willing to have their bodies spliced open to install or augment these things, so they're done in a sort of, incomplete fashion. Resulting in each individual part of the system working in a sort of... isolated state. Working independently with the other parts to achieve a mutual, collective outcome. Like...." He became flustered again before scratching the skin of his crown and asking. "Do you know what ants are?"
"Ants?" Jordan squinted in sudden confusion.
"Forget it." Randy tossed the question aside without pause. "Anyway, the... severity, of your damage allowed for the usually separate cybernetic systems; the ribs, spine and pelvis, to be unified into one, complete system. The centerpiece of your new skeletature is the spine. Which connects to your brain and all your existing nerves and functions as the source of the synthetic nerves grown throughout your body over the last week. As it naturally is within our bodies, your new ribs and pelvis are connected to your spine and synchronized to your other pieces of internal hardware via those same synthetic nerves." Randy pointed at Jordan's arms with his chin before continuing. "Unlike our natural bodies, however. Those nerves have also directly connected with your artificial lung and the various pieces of your digestive system. And will do so to all other implants installed into your body from here on out.
"The end result." Randy suddenly boomed with pride. "Is a skeletature utterly superior in comparison to its biological counterpart. Density; flexibility; resiliency; shock absorption; body compression. It's capable of it all. And its synchronization brings it to an operational level on-par with subconscious action. Lucky you." The doctor finished with soft, contemptuous scoff through the nose before leaning back over the arm of his seat to study Jordan.
As for the young Astros, he was veritably speechless. The extent of his new additions were along the lines of what he expected, if not a touch more expensive. But the long windedness and obvious excitement shown by the doctor wound up being more than his groggy mind could handle.
"I don't think you understand just how lucky you are." Randy grumbled after a few silent moments. "Or cursed. Growing nerves is nanotech. Nanotech implants are reserved for B-rankers or above. And the only way around that is to get fucked up enough on campaign!" He spat in a sudden outburst of anger.
Not knowing what to say to quell the doctors anger, Jordan simply bowed at the waist towards him. "Thank you for taking care of me."
After leaving the grumbling doctor to his own vises, Jordan wandered the second floor halls until he found a restroom to slide himself into. Once nestled inside a stall, he turned his attention to the subject of intrigue that'd been bugging him since he awoke.
[New Message. 1/2: F.M. Quinn Law.]
As Jordan began listening intently to her message, he inwardly began spouting off his replies as if she were standing outside the stall to catch the brunt of his retort.
'What the hell is a cub?' He snorted to himself.
'Strength is a core Galilean value. So...' He muttered in response to her question. 'Obviously. I'd need it to get anywhere in the Powers.'
'How can you guarantee me strength, or anything else?' He asked her. 'You expect me to wordlessly follow along with your orders like a daft pawn?'
'It's not as if I have a choice.' Jordan instead breathed heavily to himself in a meek attempt to calm his nerves. 'Rather, it's what I would've done regardless. Or so she assumed, since it's exactly what I did before.'
After finishing the recording in its entirety, Jordan took one glance at the second message and decided his brain couldn't take another fluctuation in emotion before it imploded. Saving the recording a for later time, he moved to the lobby of the hotel where he unsurprisingly found Gelos, sitting in the center of the lobby. Facing the entry to the main corridor with an absent look on his face.
"What're you doing?" Jordan asked with a noticeable hint of ill-placed annoyance.
"Waiting for you." Gelos amiably shrugged.
"Why?"
Gelos tapped at his chin while his eyes absently traced the ceiling. "Because, I watched you get killed. Then, I spent a being bored, lounging in my apartment. Strolling around the city, finding places to eat. If I'd known you'd only be annoyed, I'd have stayed there." He scoffed loudly to punctuate his last words as he pried himself from his seat.
"Let's go." Jordan stepped past him without any further acknowledgments.
After they'd left the hospital and walked around the next few blocks, Jordan broke their companionable silence. "I apologize for being rude." he said as if he'd never stopped talking. "It's not you. It's... The knight left me a message saying she's leaving the Powers for a month. All but demanding that I train with her spear while she's gone." Jordan stopped to kick a pebble into a drainage ditch while loudly sucking his teeth in frustration. "Who does she think she is?"
"Just make sure your anger is well placed." Gelos gave a warnful eye before reverting back to his cheeky self with a simple shrug of the shoulders.
"On top of that." Jordan spat at the air. "My holier-than-thou elder brother decided to send me a message, just after I was slain. I don't even have to read it to know what it says: 'Jordan, come to wherever I am so I can tell you how stupid you are. Inquire about things I know you're ignorant about, then berate you for being ignorant about them.' I can't stand it."
"Sounds about right." Gelos chuckled to himself as Jordan unleashed a frustrated groan upon the streets of Bronio. "I know what a handful of siblings is like. I can only image forty-something."
"It's a nightmare." Jordan groaned.
"But, how does it work, exactly?"
"Uhhh." Jordan sighed hesitantly.
How exactly Jordan would explain his family situation was something he'd never really worked out. He'd figured he'd burn that bridge when he crossed it. A philosophy that had only worked in favor of him up until this moment.
"So, the first four." Jordan began. "Natasha, Vladimir, Felix and Vera, were all birthed from our father and the same mother. Three more from a different mother came after them. And three more from again, a different mother, came after those three. Collectively, those ten form a group of children that grew up together as a large family. Commonly referred to as a 'pack' by the denizens of New Bran."
"Okay." Gelos nodded slowly as he followed along.
"I'm apart of the second pack." Jordan continued. "Arthur, the pretentious composer of the message that I can read through the powers of fraternal foresight, is the eldest of our pack. The 11th child of the Clan. Besides Jago, and sometimes Vera, I grew tired of him the fastest."
"Jago, Vera. Felix." Gelos chuckled after a moment of silence. "Such strange names. Even in modern times."
'Say's the guy named Gelos.' Jordan snorted to himself. "Many of us who were named by our father strive to live up to the meaning behind their names." Jordan explained. "Jago being a prime example."
"Oh?" Gelos curiously perched up as he strode. "Then, what does Jordan mean?"
"It means, 'to descend, like a river traveling down a mountain." Jordan replied absent mindedly. "Or, like a shuttle. Falling down a planet's gravity well." He paused to snort softly at his own joke before continuing. "The meaning behind my name is irrelevant though. My mother named my two brothers and I. And she doesn't care about such... mystical, things."
"So, what's the deal with you three?" Gelos asked.
"Six." Jordan phlegmatically corrected. "I have two brothers and three sisters. And, we're a special case."
Gelos all but halted in place on the walkways while he took the time to digest the mountain of information.
"Our mother, Jemenna, gave us names starting with J, like hers." Jordan continued. Not giving Gelos even a second to catch up. "While our father gave our sisters names starting with V, like him. For only the second time in the Clan's history, custody was split between the children. They agreed to have our father raise us boys in New Bran while our sisters were raised by our mother, in Ananke. They came to New Bran and we went to Ananke a few times to visit. Our sisters had their trials a few weeks before ours then returned to our mother' Power. Yet, they retained all benefits of being a member of the Clan."
"I see." Gelos nodded after another second of contemplation before asking. "So, when was the first time?"
"That custody was split?" Jordan vacantly asked rhetorically. "With the first family. 'Tasha and Vlad were raised by their mother in Carme. Our mother and theirs were the only ones who'd even wanted to split custody. Their children would've stayed well above the lowest rung, regardless of which parent they were raised by."
Gelos turned his head slowly as the pieces of Jordan's words started to fit into place. "So... that means?"
"Yes." Jordan sighed wearily. He'd long been tired of explaining his family structure. But he was well aware that Gelos' questions wouldn't cease unless he laid everything out now. "The mother of the first family is another founder to the powers, the Chieftess of Carme, Nashly Simms."
For the entirety of the walk back to their apartment, Gelos remained silent as he undoubtedly soaked in the mountain of information Jordan laid upon him. By the time they'd arrived at the main entrance to their apartment building, a. "Sounds complicated." Was all he'd managed to mutter from his lips.
"Eh. You get used to it." Jordan shrugged before stepping inside. "Most of them are gone half the time anyways."
"Right." Gelos sighed sarcastically before trailing behind Jordan. "So, what you wanna do next?"
"Eat. Sleep." Jordan monotonously replied as he entered the elevator. "Burn the bridge tomorrow."
"It's barely past noon!" Gelos furiously protested. "And you were just out for a week!"
"Getting new implants always seems to make me sleepy, regardless how long I'm out for." Jordan yawned. "Are you eating with me, or not?"
Gelos crossed his arms over his chest and spent a few seconds shuffling in place, grumbling to himself before turning to Jordan with a wrinkled expression. "Fine. I'll eat."