The server had shot them both a dirty look as they had stepped over the pillar box and sat down at a clean table. The pair had been politely asked to settle the bill and leave. Master and reluctant apprentice, now sat on a park bench with two large coffees and an even larger assortment of Greggs baked goods between them watching the joggers go round. Myles was glad knowing he had managed to avoid being turned into soup earlier that morning.
“This isn’t a proper pasty you know” John said between bites of a steak slice “Not that I’ve been back to Cornwall since the subterranean Knocker Empire was defeated.”
“I feel a whole empire under Cornwall should be a lot more shocking… It’s the suit isn’t it, its messing with my meat computer”
“Good spot. As expected of my apprentice. The humans who originally built this tech knew it would likely be getting activated under less than ideal circumstances so one of its more useful features is keeping people composed until things normalise, know what I mean?.”
“I’m not sure what to feel about that”
“Exactly! all that nonsense is taken care of for you” The old warrior let the veneer of braggadocio slip and the weight of years hung off him “Myles, when I said I recruited you, I meant that literally, I don’t regret it, but there was more selfishness in that act than I like admitting to… I’ve dragged you into a war against your will because I desperately need help”
Myles sat and digested that information, he thought it should probably bother him. But if his armour or was smoothing things out for him, he wondered if he was due a massive strop in the near future once it finished mucking about with his brain. Myles threw some pastry crumbs to the pigeons and sparrows, despite whatever the suit was doing to him he still got a sense of wellbeing from feeding the birds. John Barrington took his silence as a cue to continue.
“Three fae encounters within the span of twenty four hours is not normal. On average any given member of the community will be fighting once a week at best. On the odd occasion things boil over and we have an all hands on deck situation. But events have been ramping up beyond even one of those explosive clusterfucks. Something big is coming and we are too few right now. I need boots on the ground, I need my old crew and I need you to hold out your hand like this” John Barrington extended his arm and opened his hand.
The space in his hand cracked with the same black sparks as something materialised. It was strange, the appearance was black with pink highlights and looked halfway between a gun and a knuckle duster.
“Now, call yours and please stop feeding the pigeons, their dead eyes unsettle me” John waved his free hand to shoo away the birds.
Myles extended his arm and felt for something. to his surprise it responded, he… could feel it, not part of him, but connected. Red sparks flickered in his hand and then there was matter where there had been none. Myles looked over his device, his…Trigger. He also swore the jogger running past sped up.
“That Myles, is how you call the suit when you don’t have an eldritch abomination to hand”
“Is this part of the whole ‘Fairy Trigger’ thing too? I mean is it not putting a hat on a hat?” Myles further examine the device, it was white and a bit more boxy looking than John Barrington’s Trigger.
“Maybe a little” John agreed “But its a lot of things, hair-trigger temper, watching us gear up anytime something from beyond gets to close… plus plain just not liking us because of. well, we can cover that later on…”
“That part I don’t understand. Knowing that monsters are real, would it not make more sense to appreciate anyone helping out?”
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“Two reasons. First, you, the untrained recipient of a trigger took down a quartet of fernseherfett before your suit was even fully built. Our kind are both unpredictable and possess staggering potential, that king of thing sets peoples teeth on edge. Secondly, our weapons system is derived from the fae themselves. I don’t know the full story, I think it’s a NASA using Nazi scientists to put men on the Moon kind of deal, honestly this was pretty much myth and legend before I ever got my suit. Even so there has always been that element of suspicion towards us. But that does segue towards one of our advantages. Myles where do you think your Trigger was before you summoned it?”
“I don’t know I just sort of did a magic and it was in my hand”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear the phrase ‘did a magic’ and carry on. We have our own little pocket of space for keeping things, our armour, any weapons we may acquire and the remains of our vanquished foes. Just don’t try keeping your keys and wallet in there, this isn’t a video game”
“right, utility is out but gross shit is in, got it”
“That gross shit as you call it acts as base materials for the suit to repair itself or if you are very lucky, craft upgrades, weapons and very occasionally a new Trigger. Sometimes a non fae will be accepted but thats a roll of the dice and no one has ever managed to pin down any sort of pattern. So no trying to stuff chuggers or other annoying pets in there.”
“Is that something you tried? stuffing a chugger in there I mean”
“No, I am a man of class and dignity. I don’t go about seeing if I can stick people into my sub-space storage… okay maybe there was this one priest who got a little insistent about alms… which now I think about it is very much like a chugger, so yes, yes I have tried to stuff a chugger in there and it does not work.”
“There is a limit isn’t there? That why we left a pile of dead whistlers out on the street. You are full of-ink meat from last nights adventure.”
“The community has a cleanup detail, they are very good at finding and covering up any messes though they always do appreciate a heads up. As for your observation, yes in a way. The storage capacity is vast, but the suit can only process so much at once, I’ll be digesting whistlers for another week at least. Oddly poetic if you think about it.”
“So am I one of yours?” Myles held up his boxy white Trigger.
“No… My Daughter, my previous apprentice and one unclaimed still in storage. Those are the only Triggers I ever created. In addition I have several legacy Triggers to find partners for. Legacy Triggers are when it had a previous owner, powerful, but you need to adapt to them rather than them growing to suit you, I have my eye on someone for one of them. Your Trigger however is an anomaly”
“Why what’s wrong with it? Is it the Rabbit thing? Because I swear I didn’t choose that.”
“All Triggers have a type. Enduring, thats mine by the way, we get greatly improved physical abilities and longevity. it’s a slow start, but imagine learning to utilise those abilities over hundreds of years maybe even millennia. The whole while racking up combat experience. Adaptive, this is where those crafting abilities really shine. These types get very good at making what they need for any given situation with either weapons or full on suit upgrades it is all about advantage through technology.” John paused to let the joggers pass, the gym-rat looking one threw a dirty look at the pile of Greggs baked goods. “Lastly there is the Swift type. They can go fast, and I mean really fucking fast, the downside is it puts a huge strain on the users body. The ones who don’t retire early end up burning out. None of this is mutually exclusive, think of it as three points of a triangle and your type is whatever you happen to be closest to.
“Oh no, I’m a swift aren’t I. Is that why my hair changed? Am going to die young? Will you look after my cat? rambled Myles as this new confrontation with morality broke through the suits calming effects.
“No Myles, you are not a swift. In fact as far as I can tell you are not any type at all. John paused, considering his next words “We, or at least the Triggers can sense each other and occasionally, those compatible with it. There may be times you will be nudged to take a left turn instead of a right or be outright drawn to a certain place where one of us is. it also helps keep the Triggers from being lost. I found the the Trigger you are bonded with at the bottom of an abandoned copper mine in Tomnadashan. That was back in 1975 and it has shown zero interest in anyone that whole time. Then last night some kid pisses off a bunch of whistlers and it went absolutely nuts.”
On a bench across the park eyes filled with ill intent were locked on the two men eating unhealthy amounts of pasties.
“Get some fucking exercise” she muttered to herself as sat drinking her black coffee.
It has been a monumental task getting the fernseherfett to the building site and to see them cut down so readily… She had thought they had been discovered. But after discreetly trailing the two men it seems they had just gotten unlucky having one of their type in the vicinity when the strike went down. The great plan was safe, she would be happy for the rest of the day, safe in the knowledge there would always be a bit of her heart devoted to it. but it was less than ideal having their kind around. But why make a decision that could bite you in the arse when it was more convenient to kick the problem upstairs and let them deal with it.
The woman selected the images she had captured on her phone and sent them up the chain of command. At minimum reporting this information should get her a better assignment than habitual voyeur.
Plan for beta site disrupted. Unknown Fairy Trigger eradicated the fernseherfett . Later joined by another. Both later attacked by whistlers, not sure which was the target, but as it was a daytime attack one of them must have mentioned their mother. Luminary be praised!
Sandra
Shit, leave it with me. Luminary be praised!
She put her phone away, the two men were still say eating pasties so she doubted anything else of use would be gained, it wasn’t worth increasing her risk of discovery. With another sip of coffee she got up and left the park.