Mechanisms of capability held within divine weapons, a broken god crafted into the forms now present upon the Five. A smattering of rifle, sidearm, heavy anti-armor weapon, a multi-barreled rotary machine gun, and the one male mage.
“We know Alto’s.” Madeline cheekily volunteers the Gunslinger. “You took out the Thousand Knives in Cape Wrath last year right?”
“Y-yes?” The man confirms with a nervous glance.
“And an Auditor of District Fourteen.” Samuel adds with an emotionless gaze. “All bullets fired from his weapon are magical in nature.”
Madeline scoffs. “No, his whole thing is being able to hit everything with perfect accuracy. Right?”
All incorrect, a legendary wanderer’s tale woven by tabloids and rumors unable to fully comprehend his actual self. The Gunslinger blinks as they all stare at him, an answer given with true honesty. “I can draw my weapon pretty fast.”
Silence at the statement, a power mundane enough to gather disbelief towards him. A divine so simplistic, so utterly easily faked by similar arcane devices.
“You’re serious!?” Madeline declares with a slack jaw.
“We have seen an example of such an act.” Samantha remembers.
The woman snaps her fingers, pointing towards the far wall of the establishment. “Ok, draw the gun I wanna see this.”
A readied position between them all, just in case of a betrayal at the hands of a noble soul.
He doesn’t move from the chair, human and augmented minds unable to even comprehend the action. A displacement between moments in time, the distortion of reality suddenly transferring frames back to one another as the Gunslinger is suddenly standing; weapon raised towards the far wall.
It detects the activation of the quantum cells, a coded call sent towards the depths of the sphere returning with immense power. The bending of reality at the will of humankind, such a simplistic maneuver crafted mere nanometers from his form and demanding power incomprehensible.
Madeline almost jumps at the sight. “Gods! Damn that’s terrifying.”
“Impossible.” Samuel begins in confusion, blinking augmented eyes. “Such an act was… impossible by physical capacity.”
The sibling speaks up at her brother’s words. “It is a fragment of the GOD GUN, is it not?”
“Well, that makes mine look pretty bad.” The Bandit sighs as she pulls her own weapon up, dropping the heavy thing onto the table.
Steel serving bowls clattering as the plastic table literally leaps off the ground, a weight suddenly made reality as it's set down onto a surface. Five barrels idle, mastercrafted steel wrapped around a feeding mechanism that connects to a single black box.
She gives them their answer, in response to the confusion upon their faces. “It doesn’t run out.”
“What do you mean?” Alto asks with a hinge of curiosity.
“Doesn’t run outta bullets.” The Bandit clarifies as she lugs the thing’s carrying handle. “One of my gang members said it does at least three thousand rounds per minute, it’ll burn out the barrels before the lead stops.”
Judge Murphy interrupts with one objection. “With one catch.”
She snaps her fingers at the old man’s statement. “The bullets don’t kill. Only strong enough to knock you on your ass or blind you if they get you in your eyes.”
It finds the connection point in the sphere, a registry of storage detected. Two anchor points in time and space, one side here towards the magazine of the weapon and another found within an ocean of rounds. A small reassurance of the existence of still functioning factories deep within structures, still some hope.
“Such a device is extraordinarily dangerous to combat for a mage.” The boy notes with deep concern. “With a high volume of individual rounds, a weapon of such a rate of fire can overwhelm the defensive measures projected by mages and arcane type shielding.”
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Alto Carrin asks the question to the Mage in their midst: a male augmentorum, a monster to defy the Collective itself. A memory remembering the actions of a night prior, of a projected wall of gravimetric arts shielding a hundred incoming rounds. “Are you a danar mage?”
“I am primarily practicing the observa school.” The boy mage replies.
“Gods damn so men can actually become mages?!” Madeline blinks with surprise. “I thought it was a girls only club.”
Alto educates her quietly, a religious implication not lost on him. “Male augmentorum are extraordinarily rare. Their appearance… only comes in times of great upheaval and chaos.”
The mage doesn’t expand further on the point, turning to Judge Murphy as the old man asks his held question. “Is that the property of your fragment? That allows you to be augmented as a male?”
“No.” The Mage answers.
“Then what is it?!” Madeline barely holds in her excitement at the idea. “Other than tearing buildings apart of course.”
A trust built for them all, a reveal of each other's powers given to them as the lie fails against promises of a bounty irreplaceable. “I am able to predict outcomes of localized events.”
Silence, the implication processed.
“What do you mean by ‘localized?’” Judge Murphy asks carefully.
“So you’re saying, you’re able to predict the future?” Madeline refines Murphy’s question.
“Correct.” The Mage replies.
Judge Murphy presses his power further, cold words asking for specifics. “How far into the future?”
“It is dependent on the caloric expenditure. I do not know the full extent of its capabilities.”
“Ok.” Madeline pauses as she pulls a hand behind her back, a mixture of extremities raised. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“This is not a relevant activity to the specified augmentation.” Samuel coldly informs, pausing for a moment as passive sensors automatically count the number anyways. “Three.”
The single chip is detected within the base of the young boy’s skull; a software/hardware link crafted with such immense precision even the Being is barely able to comprehend it. A near-guarantee of fire control through the manipulation of the base waveforms of reality, its continued existence a reassurance in the promises made by humankind in the eons past.
As if on cue the girl grips her own weapon, the massive form of an anti-material rifle almost tipping off its held position leaning against the chair.
Judge Murphy connects the shot against the vehicle of Madeline McCormik, the origin of the sniper platform found. Cold words made with respect, the two sides of the law separated by differing perspectives and monetary rewards. “That’s a big gun.”
“It is.” The Gunner returns with a nod.
Madeline McCormik blinks. “That’s it? Just… big gun?”
“She used the weapon used to destroy your vehicle.” Judge Murphy informs.
“Gods damn! Seriously?! One shot with that thing?!” She asks as she turns towards the perpetrator.
“Correct.” The girl stares at her coldly.
“Number one, great shot so thanks for not killing us with a miss. Number two, that was a three hundred dollar truck with seventy six bucks worth of armoring that you blew up. And you did it in ONE SHOT?!”
The girl can’t help but smile at the complement, the honeyed words of the woman somehow penetrating a walled exterior of emotional detachment.
The largest fragment and the most dangerous, the Being stares at the thing in confirmation of its safety measures. Four lines across the square barrel remain idle as it sheds a barely visible glow into the morning streaming through the windows, the construction’s true self mercifully unused through the eons of its existence. He feels it surge power as he finishes a visual inspection, energy drawn towards a divine incarnate like a lightning rod.
They all stare at the final one, the Federation’s own representative in their midst.
“Come on, we gotta see it Gramps!!!” Madeline interrupts as she claps her hands towards the old form. “The Lawbringer!!!”
A weapon to fit the legend himself, the old soul simply removes his weapon from its back holster as he reluctantly places it onto the table. The varnish of real wood finish, a handguard and buttstock crafted from a living creature now used to take lives.
Lever action simplistic yet necessary for its modification, the central piece of the fragments found in a broken shape and form of the thing’s receiver. The hands of master gunsmiths taking their own liberties with the divine craft, a semi-automatic mechanism operated with a single steel lever. Magazine feed now in the acceptance of stripper clips, a gaping maw within the open bolt calling to something more.
“It takes any bullet.” He informs the rest of the Five. “Will fire it, no issues.”
“Any bullet?” The Twins question at the same time.
“Any bullet. As long as it fits within the receiver, it will fire.”
So simple, yet within it something so much more.
The Being feels the echoes of the mechanism; of a war long forgotten won through its form. Scars of conflict, the guilt of its usage. A keystone in the universe of dust and rage forgotten even by those who put their hopes and dreams into it.
Ar sinks with a great tragedy, watching as the Five complete their checks and breakfasts.
Alto Carrin asks the question of faith, focused towards the childlike form.
“What about you?”