After my "bad dream," sleep wasn't a viable option for the days after. Even before all this, though, I've never been one to spend my time idly. I replayed my fight with Arachne hundreds of times mentally, reviewing my mistakes and wondering about exploitable weak points for next time. I also tended to my wounds, bringing me back to fighting shape. But, unfortunately, it didn't mean I was prepared for work again.
That was clear when my dog licked me awake to a notification that made my skin crawl. My boss finally summoned me, and he didn't like to wait, leaving me to take the world's fastest shower before making a one-way rampage straight to Titan. Yet, even when I entered the base, I kept my momentum, appearing as nothing more than a blur to the surrounding agents.
Silly as it may look, my speedy jaunt was more than warranted. I was already late enough as it was. So with my heart beating faster than a locomotive, I arrived at my superior's office, more thankful than ever for James' big mouth as he finished his latest story.
"And that's how I used C4 to save my daughter's art project," he said with a nostalgic face.
"An illuminating story as always, James. I'm jealous you can make an average day more entertaining than a week's worth of work," my superior states.
"C'mon, Daniels, that's still far more action than you give it credit for, sir," he said while trying to keep a semblance of composure.
"I'll be sure to keep that in mind. Though speaking of action, I guess we can finally get to it now that Sarah has arrived," Morgan Daniels, the leader of Titan, said.
Considering the type of people you usually see running these organizations on tv, Daniels was a lot to be desired. He wasn't this hulking figure nor a sophisticated spy. Instead, he was a dark-skinned African American man in his sixties with a gray-tipped short Afro, nothing too much out of the ordinary. When you start looking deeper, you realize why he scares me so much. And I've spent years scaring people.
For beyond his cavalier smile, his body told a story. The frayed sliver military jacket that showed experience and toned frame that didn't match his age wouldn't say much. His large scar on his right cheek would only tell half of it. No, when we first met, I could see the fire through his bright amber eyes unlike any other. A flame that's warmth can quickly turn into a blaze. I guess it was time to see what side I was on finally. With guilt welling up in my throat, I spoke out.
"Mr. Daniels, before we begin, I want to say sorry, and I promise that-"
"There's no need to apologize, Sarah. You'll get revenge soon enough," he said with creeping aggression.
"What do you mean by that?" I stated with partial confusion.
Daniels's eyes started to flash as he pressed a button under his desk. Instantly the office room started to darken its lights. Simultaneously a projector slid down from the ceiling, portraying a series of holograms on an opposite wall that unfurled several hexagonal reflective services. He then stood up with a small glowing pen in hand, his smile vanishing completely, before getting to "business."
"Because despite his best efforts, that rat Stan can't hide his droppings. Between the Gearheads and Sleepers, we could finally string together a predictive algorithm for his smuggled shipments."
A blue holographic display of the world levitated above him. It didn't last long, though, as by using the pen, he zoomed in on Cuba, eventually picking out four locations.
"Stan's shipments rely heavily on ahead-of-time orders and rapid switch-offs. Cross-referencing Stan's past dealings combined with suspected salacious activity has made these four Cuban wharfs the most likely targets storing the weapons. All we have to do is stake out each location with our smallest but strongest teams," he said decisively.
From there, Daniels started to swiftly x out each location. Each stroke of the pen carried more weight and vindication, to the point his fingers nearly trembled by the time he got done. Waves of passive wrath filled his tongue upon his next set of orders.
"Once the buyers take the bait, we'll eviscerate them all and take the shipment. We may not have a confession from Stan, but securing his illegal stock can finally be the catalyst we need to bury the bastard. If this Arachne makes an appearance, all the better. His testimony could be equally valuable. Though with that said, do you accept this mission, James?"
James responded without hesitation, saluting valiantly.
"Of course, sir."
Daniels then shifted his eyes towards me.
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"And what of you, Paladin?" he said judgingly.
Through his tone alone, a simple question becomes a razor-sharp ultimatum. Time seemed to slow down to a crawl with my body paused and processing. Despite preparation, my fears are still grasping my throat, though, amid the man who's given me this chance. I realize the Paladin has more to prove herself to more than just me. So I gulped down my doubts, saluted, and said.
"Yes, I'm ready."
Daniels gave me one last look before instantly regaining his cavalier composure. Then, with a click of his pen, the room turned normal. Before we left, though, he left some words of wisdom.
"Good, I may have gotten a silver tongue from this position, but I always believe actions do far better in communication. Especially with a strong heart to carry them out. Oh, but before you leave, Sarah, I suggest you visit your biggest fan. She has something for you."
A groan louder than a grenade went off in my head, realizing who he meant. A couple of minutes later, James and I found ourselves in arguably the most dangerous place in Titan: the Gearhead's workshop. Even though the custom steel door, the sounds of bloodcurdling screams, power tools, and explosions exploded out. Leaving me with one question.
"Are you sure we can't just visit her later?" I said in an exasperated tone.
"You and I both know that would only delay the inevitable. She's persistent. Besides, I always like seeing what cool stuff these guys cook up," James said optimistically.
"Bet you wouldn't be saying that if your last "upgrade" involved getting locked in a two-ton exoskeleton for five hours," I said painfully.
"True, but my gears never needed an upgrade, can't improve perfection," he said smugly while opening the door for me.
Reluctantly I joined him, immersing myself in madness. If Titan itself was like a giant subway, I would describe the Gearheads as a hyperactive brain with far too much time, money, and creativity on their hands. Once an idea gets put into their head, they'll devote everything towards it just to see if they can do it unless something else interests them. Regardless of if it's good or not, their workshop is all the evidence you need on this philosophy.
We entered a gray room with a concrete floor, though I don't you double able to tell with how much soot, cracks, and bare parts were lying around. Which already would've made this a challenging obstacle course from the floor alone, but everything else was far more overwhelming. James and I felt like rats in the maze with how much machinery surrounded us.
From high-level military drones soaring in the air, electromagnets that can power a city block, and armaments that can shred through the steel, it felt like we had entered a spaceship from a sci-fi show. In the epicenter of insanity was my biggest fan, who controlled the chaos like a band conductor with a drill sergeant's grace.
"Chavez, ensure you reproduce the bonding agent! We need those polymers to stay together! Williams rebrace the grapple to handle the PSI! Briggs, make sure the insulation carries through the entire staff! We need to make sure everything is perfect for her! If not, I will expose your search history to the world, do you hear me!?" she said eccentrically.
Before she could continue her rant, though, a noticeable shiver reached up to her spine like it was a sixth sense. She then immediately jumped in a 180-degree fashion with open arms.
"Oh my god, you finally came," she said as I got hit with the mother of all bearhugs.
Every personal boundary I had instantly destroyed, forcing me to hold in screams as I softly pushed out of the hug to greet her finally.
"Hello Wiz, how have you been?"
While it was more so a simple inquiry, I could probably already tell from her frame alone. Wiz has always been skinny to the point of unhealthiness, yet I've never found her as frail, mainly because the rest of her screamed fearlessness. Her attire had her signature jeans and long-sleeved anime-based shirt, both slightly ripped from some experiment going wrong. Though it didn't matter, a face beaming with excitement through her light mulatto skin, baggy eyes, adorable freckles, box glasses, and a partially blonde dyed natural top knot.
"Great, and even better now that you're here. Right guys?" she said excitedly.
A thunderous groan got heard in the background, with many of Wiz's fellow scientists looking about as sleep-deprived as heard. Though that didn't dare stop Wiz, as she forcibly grabbed my hand and walked me past the jungle of circuitry.
"You are going to love what we've made for you. I originally was going to fix your suit up, but then I got to thinking, and next thing I know, I'm firing up the incinerator," she said enthusiastically.
That sentence alone had my hair prickled from fear, wondering at what horrors awaited me. However, what awaited me was something that left me speechless in a completely different manner. Previously I wouldn't have called my first suit anything special, mostly a custom biker jacket with a bulletproof vest, black mask, and goggles. Compared to this, though, it was practically a joke.
On a small mannequin, my outfit was given new life. My black biker jacket now came with a large white gladius symbol on its back. It revealed a black T-shirt with a Kevlar vest lined underneath. Some light black combat pants and boots were on the lower body. The biggest difference was the amount of armor, with dark gray bracers, kneepads, shoulder pads, leg guards, and armored gloves peppering the suit with white stripes surrounding it. Completing the look, though, was the face, complete with a black combat mask, complete with a neck guard, and devilishly dark red eyes. As I stood slack-jawed in amazement, Wiz called about her craft.
"After rewinding your fight, I decided to add more overall protection to your suit. Most main armor is composed of a unique Kevlar-carbon fiber weave ratio. I tried to account for your speed as best I could and ran through a couple of dozen test trails, but you'll still notice an 8% decrease in speed. The red contacts and back symbol are just funsies since I know you can rock them. Same with the sai's cause. Why fix perfection on that, right? However, those are nothing compared to your new toys. Bring it in, boys!"
Almost like clockwork, a set of half-dead men shuffled out an intricate glass casing that featured three different gadgets. One was a rifle that looked like a hook, a small metal staff, a new pistol, and a set of small black balls with a small white glue symbol. Wiz then started to enter her inner showwoman, increasing her speaking speed rapidly.
"You can call these new beauties your new anti-Arachne gadgets. Starting, we introduce your new grapple gun. Now with more power, bigger speed, and massive range, you shouldn't have to deal with any more jamming. And with your new collapse, electro staff, anyone daring to grab your staff also is getting a nasty taser level shock," she said demonstratively.
She started to get even more into the flow, like a performer on stage.
"But if you ask me, I would say that these are my favorite creations. To counter the offensive and defensive properties of Arachne's adhesive, I decided to repurpose an old project from R and D, introducing the Gungnir pistol. A modified pistol with seven custom armor-piercing rounds per clip, more kickback, and less ammo for more damage. Finally, the glue bombs are probably the hardest part of this endeavor. The entire chem lab was stumped on this for 48 hours straight, and while we can't fully replicate it yet, these babies should still give him a bit of a surprise. So, what do you think?" she said passionately while taking huge breaths after.
I wish I could have said some profound quote or given a stoic look, but even after years of covert espionage, I couldn't hide my emotions. So I let my actions partially speak for me. I walked up to Wiz and grabbed her hand. Knowing all too well that her fingers got bandaged up to hell and back.
"You didn't have to do this for me, Wiz. I'm not worth it, especially with your hemoph-"
"Hey, don't go all doctor on me besides, if you're going to risk your life. The least I can do is inconvenience mine. And if you win, no big deal, it means all this work was worth it," she said sincerely.
From anyone else, that statement would've felt like another burden, another promise I have to keep. But from Wiz, it was like I had an entire cheer squad at my back. So amid such infectious energy, I looked toward James and her while making my pledge.
"Then I promise I'll put everything to good use."