Contributing Author: Baba Vader
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The sensation of ticking cogs gave Trey the calm he was trying to project. It only took 3.14 seconds for his body to fully transform into Geneva’s mechanical construct and the aphid to complete all of their routine checks.
Oh, thank Mother Plant you’re here! He thought.
He felt his mechanical mouth open and Geneva’s ambiguous tone came out of the speaker.
“I am, Trey. This is your hat, but it is mine now. I think I’ve earned it. Let’s get this dealt with.”
I’m actually impartial to that hat, Trey thought at Geneva. It was Daizy that really liked it.
Then the little one can consider this a favor. I’ll hang onto it for her. It will help her be less sad about missing out on those pancakes.
“Wh-what? How are we supposed to deal with this?” the Mayor’s mouth flopped around like a loose tumbleweed. It was like he hadn’t seen someone’s skin and muscle swap out for machinery before.
“Everyone–before you ask someone to fix your problems for you, think what you can do about it yourself.”
“And put a snake in someone’s boot? I’m not an engineer,” the Mayor complained.
“You don’t need to be an engineer to fix a problem. But, hypothetically, what would an engineer if when he found himself in a collapsing building?”
The old westerner stared blankly forward. He looked odd without his cowboy hat on, and Trey considered that he might still be in shock. The other influential people–all those that had tried to gamble the city’s soul in a failed attempt save their own–also seemed to be incapable of a single coherent thought.
Annoyed, Geneva turned their head to the dealer.
“Hmm. What do you think?”
“Um… maybe we should get out of the building?” the woman suggested. Her hands continued to shake with nervous, fearful tremors, but less so than before.
“Yes!” Geneva clapped, before pointedly glaring at the small crowd of the rich-and-useless. “Now, do you understand? That is your job. It’s time to get moving.”
The idiots didn’t take long to leave the creaking building, and the dealer didn’t look back as she fled, too. Geneva released control to Trey, who started to follow–only to realize his mechanical legs were hesitating.
“What’s going on?” he said through the speaker.
“I mostly wanted to get them out of the way. The building is not structurally sound, sure, but my calculations give us at least an hour to deal with it. Maybe we can prevent a repeat of earlier.”
“…oh! The skyscraper that collapsed. Where Cratherine got her parts.”
“Exactly! It’s good you’re thinking along, Trey. Though do keep in mind that I’m not an architect, civil engineer, or expert in construction. My specialty lies in the smaller details. To play it safe, let’s plan for half an hour before we get out.”
“Alright.”
Back in the casino’s main hall, the once-gilded and shining core of the building was covered in rubble, broken slot machines, and bodies. Most of the bodies were, surprisingly, luchador-ninja-robots–but the occasional party-going patron was mixed in there. Had Trey’s digestive system not been replaced by cogs and gears, he might’ve thrown up on the spot.
“Wow,” he managed to croak before a numbing sensation ran through his mind and the comfort of clockwork once again calmed him down.
“Apologies, Trey. There will be time to deal with this but we need to work on the more immediate problem.”
“It’s okay,” he mumbled. But it wasn’t okay, seeing people like this, seeing their lives lost and scattered on the marble floor.
Still, where there was darkness, there was light. A short distance away from the worst of the damage, near the entrance, a colorful crowd of people were chanting up a storm, shouting, “Boys! Boys! Boys!”
Vice Roid, Tater Tot, Stew, and Cheetah Brains stood in a circle, arms on each others’ shoulders, slowly hopping from foot to foot. Cratherine stood a full 9.88 feet away from them, cleaning out her weapons systems and occasionally glancing over with a shy, shining LED smile.
Something clicked in Trey’s neck, and Geneva started to turn his head. Then, they kept turning it, further and further. Slowly but surely, his head spun around to give him a full 360-degree panoramic view of the gambling lobby. The sensation was… not as disturbing as he felt it should’ve been. It was interesting, almost fun.
“You’re better than an owl at this!” he grinned.
“Of course, I am. I am the Great Master of Clockwork, Geneva!” the aphid laughed, “But that does mark the end of my analysis. Now that I’ve taken in our surroundings, we need to get to work.”
With sure steps, they approached the weaponized fuel crate. Trey wondered what Geneva needed the robo-woman of absolute destruction for, but they reached her before he had a chance to ask.
“Hello again, Cratherine,” Geneva said.
The machine flinched and fumbled the currently detached barrel of what was probably a minigun, juggling it twice before managing to catch it again.
“G-G-G-Geneva! Don’t surprise me like that!”
“No time for games,” Geneva said, waving her off. “I am in need of your assistance.”
“I would be happy to help. What do you need?”
Trey’s arm rose without his input and pointed at the gigantic hole in the wall.
Cratherine’s LEDs blinked in confusion.
“Oh. We should evacuate, you’re right.”
“Not necessarily,” Geneva interrupted, “Answer me a question. Your scrap refining, can it produce detachable objects? Like steel scaffolding, for example?”
Cratherine turned to fully face them. With a click, she reattached the barrel of her probably-minigun and had it retract into the insides of her body. She tapped a hand against her chassis as calculations ran through her digital mind. 1.01 seconds later, she nodded.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“It’s definitely possible. Though… how do we get it in place?”
“Oh, I have an idea about that,” Geneva grinned, pulling out a pile of detailed blueprints from their [Inventory], “Let me quickly show you the designs we need.”
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Seven minutes later, the ‘boys’ were happily trudging and throwing rubble and broken gambling machines at Cratherine. They were still excited about their victory, but Trey could tell there was an underlying sadness lingering within the goons. A five letter word–one with two z’s–went unspoken, but clearly remembered.
Tater Tot couldn’t compete with the others when it came to moving heavy weight. Potatoes just weren’t built for lifting. But he more than made up for it by spotting out resources and relaying instructions in accordance with Cratherine’s needs.
While Stew and Cheetah Brains moved rubble, Vice Roid was recruited for a different job. Geneva had commandeered him directly to bring the new beams, pillars, and girders to their appropriate places. After he managed to set the massive supports into place, Geneva scaled up after him, using this or that tool to quickly and efficiently fasten each piece into place.
Trey was impressed. Not only with the oversized hunk of muscle and bark, but with everyone in his old crew. They worked well together, and they fell in line with Geneva’s instructions without a single misstep. They bickered, sure–especially the chef and the suited cat–but they more than demonstrated a solid level of cooperation.
After fifteen minutes, Geneva clapped their mechanical hands, declaring that their work was finished. Everyone stepped back and took in their combined handiwork.
“It’s beautiful!” Vice Roid smiled, tears in his eyes. “I don’t remember if I said it earlier, but it’s good to have you guys back.”
“It’s good to be back, boss” Stew patted his bro’s back. Cheetah was standing on his other side, suppressing sniffles. “I’m sorry we couldn’t save the pizza, though. We’ll make it up to you. Maybe I’ll learn a good recipe.”
“You’d do that?” Vice asked.
Cheetah smirked and punched the big man’s shoulder. His deltoid blocked the playful blow with a smirk of its own. “You bet he would. And I’d be happy to stea–ahem–hunt down some fresh ingredients for him.”
Geneva stepped to the side of the goons, put their hands on their hips and sighed. They stared at the formerly marvelous entryway and tried to ignore the imperfections that stood out. “It’s acceptable for a rush job.”
The casino’s fancy façade had been built out of meticulously cleaned, polished and sparkling marble. The Red Scare had blasted a hole into the fine craftsmanship, sending countless cracks and fissures spiderwebbing throughout the building.
Trey could only describe what they’d done as ‘improvised scaffolding’–but despite its industrial appearance, Geneva had reassured him that their calculations showed it as even more robust than it was before (even if they could easily see the inside of the gambling hall through some of the breaks in the wall).
“Acceptable? That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think? I think what you all have done here is fairly admirable,” the gentle voice of an older man spoke from behind them.
Geneva turned around, not just the head but their whole body, to spot one of the VIP gamblers from earlier. Judging by the robes, he was probably the Bishop.
Trey wasn’t sure how he felt about the Faith, but the strangely observant man gave him the creeps. Geneva, for their part, didn’t know anything about the local religions, but she had to agree with the Host–the man was a little odd.
“It does the job. It will prevent further harm to the civilians stuck in the upper stories, but they’ll have to put on a proper façade before turning the heating back on. On a positive note, it is significantly stronger now. If a ship the size of–or even bigger than–the Red Scare were to crash into it, you’d barely see any noticeable damage.”
The Bishop chuckled.
“Quite the perfectionist, aren’t you? Look, I just wanted to express my thanks. I don’t understand what you are, but as a man of the Faith, I know that it is impossible to truly understand everything. You saved us–and probably all of New City–tonight. I could not call myself a believer if I didn’t thank those that come to my aid.”
Geneva shook her head. Maybe they’d misjudged the Bishop. Maybe he wasn’t even creepy, just floundering at the whole ‘air of mystery’ bit he was clearly going for.
“No worries. We have a stake in this world, and we will not let this city fall to corruption or any other plague.”
The Bishop nodded.
“Your group is rather impressive, but I can’t help but feel there’s more to it. I sense something around you I haven’t felt before. Something… powerful,” he said, eyes glinting with interest, causing Geneva to reverse her judgment a second time. “I’d love to discuss this event and your potential… backer. Perhaps you could visit the church later this week, if you could spare the time?”
Before Geneva had the chance to fish for more information, Trey gave a noncommittal shrug.
“Sure. We’ll think about it.”
“That’s all I can ask. I’ll go and get some rest, then. What an exhausting day.”
Slowly, the Bishop made his way to a waiting luxury limousine. He gave them one last look, then stepped inside.
Trey was running on fumes, and he didn’t have the energy to consider the implications of the Bishop’s offer. He yawned, and the mechanical parts of his body shifted and clicked to vent steam wherever it had built up. He stretched his arms, marveling at the smooth click clack coming from his mechanical joints.
Then, just as he was starting to relax, a rush of green boxes popped up in front of him.
[Quest]: Flushing the Royals >> Complete!
[Description]: Congratulations, you managed to save the soul of New City. Thanks to your efforts, corruption was held at bay and there’s still a chance for healthy roots to grow.
[Optional]: You rolled snake eyes! However, you didn’t roll your die within the boundaries of a game at the casino. Instead, you rolled them to save your life. While this is admirable, it does not fully meet the requirements of this objective. You will receive a partial additional reward for your efforts.
🏆 Rewards 🏆
[The Budding Blossom]
A half-full bottle of [Nutritional Water]
Trey managed to hold out his hands just in time to catch a 1-litre PET bottle half-filled with slightly glowing water in his left, and what seemed like a flower bud in his right. He eyed the items for a moment, but decided to just put them away in Geneva’s [Inventory] for the time being.
It was late, and he needed to rest.
“Hey guys!” he called out to the boys. Cratherine and Tater Tot--who has stepped away at some point for some 'I'm-glad-your-head-isn't-a mashed-potato-anymore' time had managed to find their way back. They headed over toward Trey, too.
“How about we go back to the botanical garden and get some sleep?”
Cratherine and Tater Tot were occupied with cuddling. Cheetah and Stew shared a glance, then shrugged. Vice Roid scratched his muscular chin, “What do we do tomorrow, then?”
“Same thing we do every day, Vice,” Geneva said plainly, “Save the world.”
"I've got to ask," Trey said, taking control back of his mechanical vocal chords, "Is every day going to be this crazy?"
Geneva considered, their clockwork clicking and clacking, before answering, "I'd expect so. It never ends easy when the forces of good and evil face off against each other."
Stew nodded sagely, then added, "It's like putting an ice cube in hot oil."
"Oh," said Trey. "I guess that makes sense, doesn't it?"
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As they made their way back to the safety of their new base, Trey thought about the day--and night--as a whole. It was a mess, wild and chaotic, but somehow... he was still here. He was still in one piece. On top of that, he'd made a few friends. He'd started his own adventure. But was he really the right choice? Was he really 'hero' material?
The last thing he saw before Geneva’s gears retreated brought a smile to his face. At least he was making some progress.
[Synchronization Update!] - 38.19% | (G) Geneva, the Great Master of Clockwork