Antebellum 2.4

2000, June 13: Phoenix, AZ, USA

About a week later, I leaned back in my lab chair and read over the email Director Lyons sent me.

Rubedo,

Your power-limiting cuffs have been approved. We were both mistaken. According to Deputy Director Irish, the Petrified Forest National Park protects only twenty percent of all petrified wood in the state. The rest are held by the Navajo Nation and various private entities. A company known as Xanterra procures petrified wood from external sources and sells them in the park's gift shop.

Deputy Director Irish has taken it upon himself to contact a company representative and has acquired a ten pound sample for your use. It is available in your mailbox. If your "Petricite" works as intended, we'll see about acquiring more.

Amelia Lyons

Director of the PRT

1 (603) 413-4124

prt_

I grinned and made a mad dash to my mailbox. Sure enough, nestled in a cardboard box was a piece of fossilized tree. No, it didn't matter what type it was specifically. The petrified wood was surprisingly colorful, a mix of the expected grays along with reds, blues, and even some purple hues mixed in.

"That's quite the paperweight you got there," David said behind me.

I handed it to him for him to examine. "Hey, David. It's pretty cool, huh?"

"Yeah, what's with the fancy crystal?"

"It's a piece of fossilized tree. You know, like from the Petrified Forest National Park. And yeah, it's a crystal. Fossilized trees turn into quartz, which is why it breaks so cleanly into reflective surfaces like this."

"Uh huh… and you're getting that in the mail because?"

"It's a tinkering ingredient. Magic tree powder."

"Right… Alright, little dude. You have fun."

David walked off, muttering something about wacky tinkers and mad science.

I locked the door to my lab and placed the fossil in my hands. I looked in my crystal drawer and found it mostly empty. I'd just finished making some potions after all. Most of my reserves were at home. I sat down on the floor with my legs crossed and waited for my thoughts to quiet. I allowed my breath to still and sank into the now familiar meditation. As always, the comforting warmth of mana welled up from within my soul, a little more eagerly than it had yesterday. Bit by bit, I was growing stronger.

Instead of condensing the mana into a crystal, I poured it directly into the fossil. It didn't sink in immediately, almost as though it was resisting my efforts. No that wasn't quite right. It felt firm yet porous, like a hill of sandstone I had to slowly erode into shape.

One crystal's worth. Then two. Then five. It took me almost a full hour to infuse the fossil with mana and convert it into a Petricite ingot. I made note of the rate of conversion, about one Mana Crystal per two pounds of wood. Unlike before, no new memories filled me. Petricite wasn't a material made by man; it was a byproduct of the Rune Wars. Strictly speaking, petricite trees could grow, much like any other tree, albeit very slowly. By Garen's time, they were seeing a noticeable drop in available trees.

I got the impression that if I managed to find a fossilized seed, maybe a prehistoric acorn or pine cone or something, I could turn it into a living petricite seed, introducing a brand new species into the world.

I stared at the lump of ash-white wood in my hand. "Now what to do with you…"

I ended up filling out a few more procurement forms for a water jet cutter to shape the petricite, along with a crucible, furnace, drop hammer, lathe, and other things I'd need for my new forge. Oh, and ten pounds of steel, ash, and lime. Petricite wood wasn't by itself all that useful. It was hard, but brittle, and stone wasn't exactly great for armor. On its own, Petricite could be used to build walls and fortifications, but even those would be relatively weak compared to plain old brick. It needed to be powdered and mixed into other materials to make the walls that surrounded Demacia and armor that the Dauntless Vanguard used.

'Heh, bet they thought an alchemical tinker would be relatively cheap to provide for,' I thought, amused.

X

2000, June 14: Phoenix, AZ, USA

The day after saw me taking a break from my lab. The whole team was gathered in an underground testing facility with a representative of the eggheads. Really, it was just an old parking space that had yet to be remodeled by the time the PRT moved in. They took one look at the empty lot, shrugged, and decided to let the capes have it.

"Hello everyone, my name is Dr. William Marshall and I am the head physician here. I was told that you were here to get accustomed to the Elixir of Iron."

The man was tall and broad, not at all like one would expect of a stereotypical doctor or scientist. He was built like a brick shithouse with some extra muscles stapled on top for good measure. A thick but well-groomed beard framed his jawline and a thin scar ran along his right cheek. His brown hair was kept short at the sides, with a few extra inches up top that was gelled into a sleek finish.

"Yes, sir," I said with a bow. "After that, I also have something else I'd like to try."

I'd brought my Petricite along. I still had no way to carve it in any meaningful way, but I figured that we could at least test how it interacted with cape powers.

"Good. We'll start with the elixir first before moving on to whatever you've got planned, Rubedo. That way we're not holding up the rest of you."

I grinned and handed them out. "Bottoms up, everyone."

Five bottles were emptied in rapid succession, grimaces all around.

"I take it that it's not pleasant?" the doctor chuckled.

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"Tastes like rust blended into a smoothie. Chalky and really metallic." Ranchero said, holding back a hurl.

"Seriously, what's in that?"

"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies. Besides, it should take effect right about now." Sure enough we started to grow, twenty percent for them, thirty for me. I grinned and placed a hand on Bandit's head, giving her hood a good tussle. "Heh. I'm taller than you now."

"This is so not fair," she pouted. She was only three inches taller than me normally, so after the elixir, I was a tad taller than her.

"My potions work better for me than for anyone else. Better effects, lasts longer, the whole shebang." 'Thank you Time Warp Tonic.'

"Nice, so we're super durable now, right?" Stingray asked, eyeing her new gunmetal sheen appreciatively.

"Right."

She walked up to a heavy bag attached to a pressure sensor and took a boxer's stance. She bobbed and weaved under imaginary punches before stepping forward to put her weight into a single, textbook-perfect jab. The fluid motion from standing to striking caught me off guard. With Oracle's I could see and feel every motion she took, every contour of her body and costume as she transitioned into her punch. I wasn't expecting that kind of grace from an amateur boxer.

'I wonder if her power has anything to do with it?' I thought. 'Her power extends the distance of her thrusts and gives them a piercing effect. Does it also subconsciously make her better at thrusting attacks in general?'

The heavy bag shook with the impact, the chains that held it up rattling.

She stepped back and took another stance. "Not bad. What was that, doc?"

"1,822 psi. That's a bit north of a punch from your average heavyweight boxer. How serious were you?"

"Ehh, not very? I just wanted to get the hang of it. Bigger me's got two left feet. Now for the serious punch."

"No, wait. Come here and wear some sensors. I want to make sure intense activity won't affect you adversely while on the potion."

"Yes, sir."

After she got kitted out in a myriad of sensory equipment, she faced the heavy bag again. "Okay. Powers or no powers?"

"Hard as you can, but no powers. Give me a baseline."

"Yes, sir."

She took a step back. In the next moment, she lunged forward, striking with all her newfound metallic weight. "HA!" she shouted as her fist met the bag. A loud bang echoed her voice.

"3,677 psi. Well above a normal athlete. For the record, a 2,000 psi punch would make a normal athlete a boxing legend. This is also quite a bit higher than your unenhanced max at 2125 psi."

"Awesome! Now with powers?" She seemed practically giddy.

"Yes, but move to the other machine," the doctor said, gesturing to a machine that looked like something out of a punching game. It was padded, but the texture of the surface material seemed to be Kevlar, or maybe some different weave. The target was attached to thick coils of metal shaped like springs, which in turn fed into a machine to better measure the impact. "This baby was designed by Percussive, a kinetics-tinker out in Boise. It's completely mundane, thank God, but it's more durable than anything we knew how to build beforehand."

"Sweet! Alright, here I go!"

As Stingray boxed the air and hopped around, I turned to the others. "Is she always this… happy?"

"Haha, yeah, when it comes to boxing anyway," Ranchero spoke fondly. "She's definitely the best fighter in the Wards, better than a lot of people in the Protectorate, honestly, at least when it comes to pure hand to hand. A big part of that is because of how much she loves boxing."

"Yeah, passion is what carries you far," Hat Trick said. "I think it's a bit much sometimes, but damn. Gotta respect that, you know, squirt?"

"Huh. So, even if you dress up as a boxer or wear one of those helmets used in karate competitions, you'd lose?"

"No," she said, a little too quickly.

"Yes," my other two teammates said at the same time.

"Maybe. She's really good, alright?"

"Respect."

"Respect," they echoed.

Stingray decided that she'd had enough fun shadow boxing and pulled her arms in like a coiled viper.

"Stingray Straight!" she shouted.

The punch was a bit different. Like before, I could feel her kick off the ground with her back foot and step into a perfect jab. The force of her kick twisted around her hips and her shoulder into her bicep. As her arm snapped forward, she added a twisting motion with her wrist that made her punch curl through the air like a drill.

The impact pad didn't stand a chance. The machine behind it was mostly fine, if a bit dinged up. The springs would need to be checked over and the frame looked like it had scrunched up a bit. The pad? The hole was so clean that it looked like someone had taken a laser and carved through it.

"How was that, doc?"

"12,938 psi," Dr. Marshall said with a low whistle. "Or, that's as much as the machine was able to clock without breaking. We'd need to bring in specialized tinkertech to measure you fully, but that's for another day. And I see no abnormal changes to your heartbeat, blood pressure, or anything else of note either. I think the elixir is fine to use. Just in case, we'll look at the rest of the team."

The rest of their hour was spent in the ring, one by one getting their asses handed to them by the metallized Stingray. The only reason they didn't suffer any broken bones was because they were also similarly metallized. As for me, I simply did some calisthenics and ran a mile as per the doctor's orders. Eight was a bit young to box with someone like her. Using the sensors hooked up to them, the doctor was also able to gauge how much force they could withstand under the influence of the elixirs. When the elixir wore off, we gathered in front of the doctor again.

"Alright, nothing major's come up. I'm approving an elixir for each of you as a holdout weapon." His face became stern. "And I do mean it. The elixir is a weapon. Against a normal person, it may as well be power armor. You're immune to small arms and even Masked Bandit has enough power behind her hits to crush cement. Do not use it unless absolutely necessary. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," we all chorused.

I then ran over to the bag I'd brought, the one with the Petricite. I pulled it out of the box, making sure to not touch the rock directly. "This here is Petricite, and I think it can inhibit powers."

"Excuse me?" the doctor looked at me skeptically. "Are you certain?"

I wriggled my hand back and forth. "Ehh… maybe? It's the most mysterious of everything I've made so far for sure. If I'm right, it should prevent any cape touching it from using their powers."

"Is this the thing that you think might regulate my powers?" Masked Bandit asked.

"Yeah. Anyone want to be first?"

"I got this," Ranchero said, wrapping an arm around Bandit's raccoon onesie and tousling her hood. He touched the pale, white stone. "Huh, it just… feels like a rock?"

"That's because it is. It's kind of in the name 'Petricite.'"

"So what do I do now?"

"Try to use your power. Call a bull."

He furrowed his brows in concentration. Then, an eyebrow rose in curiosity. "Huh… I… can't?"

"Wait, really?" Stingray took the ten pound rock from her boyfriend and removed a glove. "I don't feel any weaker."

"I was right then," I nodded. "I have a hypothesis. Petricite will prevent outward expressions of powers. Projections, shaker effects, lasers, shields, etc. It will not prevent internal changes that have already taken place, not unless you swallow some of it. It can't suppress a brute like Stingray, but projections are fair game."

"Could I have a sample, Rubedo? There's quite a bit to test."

"I've put in several procurement forms for a metalworking forge setup in my lab. I don't really have a way to cut this into manageable chunks until my water jet gets approved." I gestured to Masked Bandit. "If this works for her, I was thinking I'd take a sliver maybe and carve it into a bracelet or something. Too small and it'll only dampen powers."

The raccoon-themed heroine tentatively placed a hand onto the stone. "I… I can't steal Sting's glove. It works!" The next second, I was nearly bowled over by the girl. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou."

"You're welcome," I said as I awkwardly patted her back. 'The whole accidental kleptomania thing must have been bothering her more than she let on.'

Wards Team One retired back to our common room soon after. I left the chunk of Petricite with the good doctor; he promised to put a bit of pressure on the director to get me what I needed.

Author's Note

Leave the phone number alone or you're going on the naughty list. It doesn't belong to anyone.

Xanterra is indeed the name of the company that sells petrified wood in real life. It's also true that the Petrified Forest National Park only holds twenty percent of all such wood. It just happens to be the most localized concentration thanks to a riverbed. Something something sediment. Something something geology. Something something too smart for me.

Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.