A few days had passed since the confrontation with the gang of villains. In the grand scheme of things, it had been little more than a minor scuffle between sides. They happened almost every day, and they were rarely of any great significance. But at the same time, of such minor incidents were wars and tragedies built.
All those who had been involved were aware of the dangers, and they were preparing themselves accordingly. Each had their own ideas for what that meant and how to accomplish it. For one Gadgeteerr, it meant keeping long and bizarre hours in the shop that he was building for himself.
It was dark. The sun had gone down a while ago, and the only lights outside were from the street lamps. Even the shop itself was dark; a desk lamp on the workbench was the only lightsource to be seen, and it illuminated only the area immediately between the worker’s hands. He toiled away with the parts in front of him, seemingly oblivious to the world around him.
His hands were a blur as he assembled, attached, restructured, ripped apart, and generally altered the things in front of him in every way imaginable. He’d lost track of time hours ago. Or was it days? He didn’t care, and he’d discovered the wonders of Max Boost. As an in-game item, it had provided enhanced recovery of both HP and AP for a short time. Not as good as direct healing, but it helped between fights.
But now? Well, it still had that effect, the difference came once you already had full bars. Instead of just doing nothing for the remainder of the effects duration, the drink now acted like the flavor text had always suggested.
MAX BOOST ENERGY DRINK!
Boost your abilities to the Max! Just one can of this miracle brew will give you the energy to keep going all day… and all night. So powerful that it’s banned in 14 countries! Best described as “Caffeine laced with lightning and hopped up on steroids.” Who needs sleep when you have MAX BOOST?
As he worked, he popped open another can. In the darkness, the opening glowed with a phosphorescent green that looked like it belonged in a cartoon nuclear plant. The shop was so quiet that you could hear the quiet hiss as the drink slowly tried to eat through the can that held it in. As for the taste, it didn’t have much. Well, supposedly it did, but damn it all if Lightforge could taste it. Every sip was like licking a battery, and he couldn’t taste anything past the sensation of electrical discharge filling his mouth.
To say that it burned wasn’t even close to covering it, but he’d gotten used to it. Despite the unpleasant nature of the experience, he wouldn’t exchange it for anything at the moment. He needed every moment that he could get.
That had been made abundantly clear by the encounter with the gang. His thoughts went back to the fight, and all of the things that he wished that he could change. The fact of the matter was that he was bad at fighting. It really was that simple.
Cannoneer had the big attacks that could halt entire groups in their tracks and take good chunks of health from most enemies, at least at this level. On top of that, the weapon specialist had shown a knack for clever planning and strategic thinking. Lightforge’s big plan was the distress beacon and a desperate attack. Cannoneer had skipped the beacon and reached out directly to allies they could trust.
It was even more embarrassing to think about Gray Guardian. The healer was just that; a support player who didn’t directly deal damage to the enemy most of the time. But between the barriers and the healing buffs, the cloaked hero had already saved him more often than he wanted to count. And that was on top of the fact that everyone could hit harder thanks to the other buffs that they had at their disposal.
And him? He could hit things. He was the best option that he and his friends had for close range combat, but only by default. His fight against Hammerfist had shown the difference between a specialist and someone who was more of a jack-of-all-trades. Lightforge had a decent amount invested into STR, but not like focused physical characters. In a battle of physical might and skill, with nothing but powers at hand, he would never stand at the top. That was a fact.
But that was only a fact so long as the conditions of the fight remained the same. So long as the fight could be boiled down to “hit each other until someone falls down” then he would be at a disadvantage. Well, except against machines, but he was worried about fights with other people. Few would be robotic enough for him to gain back that edge.
He’d been learning to fight and to make good use of his abilities, but recent experiences had shown him that he’d been wrong from the outset. Not just in actions, but in thought. Gadgeteer was a nifty support ability that would gain him XP in a world where it was harder to get. But at his core, he was a fighter. That’s how he’d thought of himself.
That was dead wrong. He was a gadgeteer, a builder, an inventor. That wasn’t some edge benefit to the powers he’d been given; it was the focal point of his powers. He’d spent so much time focusing on crafting as a means to an end, as a way to gain experience and make some money. Now he was correcting that mistake.
He’d spent all of his time crafting as many items as he could manage. He tried to make something of every crazy idea in his head. At the same time he wasn’t obsessed with perfecting the ideas as he had done with his goggles. If something didn’t work, he’d maybe give it a half minute’s consideration before disassembling it and starting over on something else. Now that he was throwing everything at the wall, there was never a shortage of ideas.
A mop that dispenses its own water? Sure. A sword that plays appropriate fight music? Why not? A gun that exclusively fired bubbles? Actually, he had a few really clever ideas for how to apply that one in combat. The point wasn’t to create anything good, it was just to create anything.
Now that he was focusing on crafting, it seemed so incredibly simple. He never knew what situation he would end up in, so he never knew what item he would need. For all he knew, the water-dispensing mop would one day be the key to his survival. So the more items he made, the more options he would have.
He heard the voices of teachers and coaches screaming at him in his mind as he slapped together another half-baked invention. They all repeated the same refrain, “Practice doesn’t make perfect, it makes permanent.” Whatever habits you gained during practice would carry over to when you did it for real. But that was a saying for the real world, and he wasn’t there anymore.
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This was a world where experience points existed. So long as he was using his powers, he would eventually level up. And no matter how bad his creations were, they would get better and better every time he did. So there was a time for patience, diligence, and careful consideration of every piece and every screw. But now was not that time.
His manic construction process had gone largely uninterrupted over the last few days. There was a small pile of items waiting for repair or upgrading, and he would get to them eventually. But he needed to make the most of his creative frenzy for as long as it lasted.
His hands moved faster and faster, blurring as he assembled the next invention from the parts of the last. There was a bright blue spark and he grunted quietly. One of the parts had broken during the disassembly process. The odds of it happening was supposed to be low, but he’d seen it more and more as he kept working. The broken part was tossed over his shoulder and he grabbed something else from his inventory. He wasn’t sure that the replacement was the same, he hadn’t taken a good look at it.
He was reaching for another Max Boost when the back door squealed as the metal dragged against the concrete floors. Lightforge drained the can in a single drink and tossed it behind him. Maybe it would be useful as scrap metal one day. Right now it didn’t matter because he was so caught up in his newest invention, something revolutionary that would change the way that people around here fought and lived for all time, no matter who they were or what they did or where they came from as soon as he could remember what it was that he was making.
His enthusiasm remained maxed out right until the moment that his wonderful new invention vanished from the table in front of him. Was it meant to do that? He couldn’t remember, but it was a success all the same. He turned to grab more parts to start on the next item.
And he froze. His parts were gone, the workbench completely empty. Even the pile of scrap behind him was gone. What? Where had it gone?
“Honestly, just look at yourself. You’re on the wrong side of feral.”
In a blink, Circe was sitting on the workbench, surrounded by the various pieces of machinery and circuitry that she’d momentarily rendered invisible. Lightforge growled under his breath at her.
“What the [BLEEP]?! I was in the groove, I was making something beautiful! Why the [BLEEP] did you interrupt me?”
“Beautiful? You were making a battery powered back scratcher.”
“What? No I wasn’t! I was making… Um… something better than that!”
“You’ve been in here for at least three days, judging by the pile of toxic sludge over there.”
She waved dismissively at the discarded cans of Max Boost. Was it larger than before? Surely he hadn’t had that many, so maybe he was seeing things? Or it could be an illusion, that was definitely within Circe’s abilities, right? Or maybe…
“I’ve been getting work done.”
“You somehow managed to turn out more broken parts than completed devices. To be honest, that’s almost impressive. But you’re not doing anything useful here.”
“Of course I am! I’m making tools to keep people safe, or to help them fight. Things that will make a difference out there on the streets.”
“You’re not. Not really. Just when you got your revenge, you got caught by a gang that you couldn’t beat. Worse than that, actually. It was a fight where you were the least useful member of your team.”
“...Alright, fine. Yeah, that happened. And now I’m trying to make things that will help the next time it happens. If I throw enough ideas at the wall, then eventually a few things will stick.”
“That’s incredibly stupid. Honestly, it is.”
“What else am I supposed to do? Gadgeteer is only useful with prep work.”
“That’s arguable, but secondary. Your basic logic is sound, Gadgeteers are at their best with time to build, refine, and prepare. But you’re forgetting something.”
Lighforge groaned and finally let himself sink to the ground. He sat on the hard concrete and propped his head up on a hand. He was starting to get used to Circe’s way of lecturing, and motioned for her to get on with it.
“Crafting isn’t the only way to prepare. I’ll be honest, you managed to kick a hornet’s nest. There’s talk about full blown war this time around, not just the little traps and squabbles in back alleys that we like to call battles. But that’s the thing about villains: they’re never truly united. There are always dissenting voices.”
“Well, that’s just spectacular. I won’t have every crook in a ten block radius coming for my head. Good to know.”
“It’s better than good if you’ll shut up and listen. You want to stay safe? Make yourself too dangerous a target to mess with.”
“That’s what I was trying to do before you interrupted me.”
“But gadgets and powers didn’t save you the other day. It was having people come to your aid.”
“That’s it? Your big idea, your wonderful insight, is just ‘make more friends?’ Wow, I never would have thought of that one. Thank you.”
“Not friends. Customers. People in your debt, the kind that won’t hesitate to put down any threat to a valuable resource.”
“Ugh, you’re talking about villains again, aren’t you?”
“Of course I am. Having heroes at your back is good, but it makes the villains jumpy. Working both sides means that no matter who comes looking for trouble, they’ll find more than they can handle. It’s what I’ve been saying from the beginning.”
Maybe not in those exact words, but it was true. And after seeing the malice in the eyes of that gang, Lightforge believed it. That’s how they’d been without their leader there. With Hammerfist leading them? He’d be out for blood.
Slowly he nodded. A tension that he’d refused to acknowledge slackened in his spine and he found himself rising to his feet once again, back straighter than it had been in days. For all his manic workings had felt good, this was more helpful. He could and would get stronger and more experienced with crafting, but…
For the first time, he really looked around at the piles of discarded things that had littered the floor of his shop. With the frenzy finally calming, he could admit what Circe had been so blunt about: they were useless. A few might have potential, but at the moment they were little better than a few bits of cardboard and duct tape. Maybe they could work as proof of concepts, but nothing more. More would take time and effort.
“Fine. Fight fire with fire. What do I need to do?”
“Nothing. I’ll start putting the word out that there’s a gadgeteer willing to work on the dark side. No names, but you’ll start to get customers coming the back way. But all of that comes later.”
She glanced again at the pile of energy drinks that he’d consumed. She grimaced and shook her head.
“Go home. Those things can be useful, but you don’t want to overuse them. Everything will be ready when you wake up.”
“Sure, sure. Of course you have everything in place to set up all that in a single night.”
With that, they said their goodbyes and Lightforge headed home. There was still a rush of energy coursing through him, but there was a fatigue in the back of his mind that surged to the forefront as soon as he’d stopped drinking the concoction that had kept him awake. He wasn’t concerned about getting to sleep; that should still be easy. And it was.
He didn’t wake up until five days later.