[Equipment: P-1000 Powered Work Loader
+1 Strength, 0/0 armor; can support up to medium armor]
Ricky gave the exoskeleton one last longing look. They did an impressive job with the repairs, and the faint purple of the disassembled relic played off the dull gray of the original metal in a way that looked like an intentional design if you squinted. After a full day of "testing" the suit to ensure that it wouldn't break apart Ricky couldn't justify keeping it any longer, and the tacit agreement from the miners to return the suit on his own time had likely already strained any good graces.
Ms. Uxral insisted that Steffo drive Ricky, and she didn't mince words that it was to keep him out of trouble. Ricky didn't mind if it meant not having to wake up before dawn and ride the crowded bus, and it gave a rare chance to chat with the mysterious bulk from the mall. Apparently he was from Fableton as well, but Ricky had few clear memories from those early days. But that didn't matter since Steffo was more of a history buff than a muscular buff, and Ricky finally met someone that they could really connect with!
He even showed Ricky how to control the jitney, and out here it didn't matter how many junk dunes Ricky ran over instead of around. At one point Ricky received a notification for defeating an octolusk for 1 XP, putting him halfway to Level 2, and unlike his blacksmithing this was repeatable!
Steffo took the wheel back when Ricky started to intentionally ram into junk dunes.
Very little of Belvidere proper could be seen from the ground, just the tops of a few long cranes, but a hard right turn down the first ramp gave a spectacular view of the quarry. Massive, staggered steps flowed down and inward; showing a cross-section of the tarmac, the compacted ancient landfill below it with mining shafts operating at every level, and at the very bottom stood the city of Belvidere.
An actual city block made of actual buildings from before Operation Clean Slate, Mr. Belvidere liked to joke that he was both the founder and the finder of his namesake. Either way it was impressive and always growing as the mining operation worked outwards and uncovered more buildings, but existing within a bowl meant that things tended to collect instead of spread. The small lake of acid rain runoff in one corner of town smelled the worst on the best of days.
Each time the ramp reached a plateau of the quarry to reverse directions they passed a security checkpoint, always with at least one reinforced construction truck and a few patrolling enforcers with powerful black powder rifles. One enforcer, probably their captain, wore a hauler exosuit with thick metal plates bolted on for armor. And although no one used any name-brand ValKyr security gear, they still wore a sense of authority like another form of armor. Ricky watched and studied all of them, their mind constantly spinning with inspiration.
At the bottom of the quarry, the conga line of vehicles trying to enter town slowed to a crawl and everyone in the jitney craned their necks to see why. Steffo groaned and slumped in his seat, and with Ricky's prompting he threw a hand to the crowd swarming just past the gate. "Oh, they're just at it again. Clergies for The Hand and Plastique are exercising their 'freedom of speech' all over the road," he said, adding gigantic air quotes to his sarcasm. "We'll get past them eventually."
Ricky knew a little of The Great Invisible Hand, since a missionary would sometimes come and pass out advertisement tablets. Something about a literally invisible hand that would sometimes help people, but only after they helped themselves, and it would also sometimes wear a pure white glove when it wanted to be seen? Ricky always zoned out when the missionaries started giving sermons. They would also sometimes leave a trail of credit chits when they walked as "trickles of the Hand's passing," but since Ms. Uxral refused to let them run a store in Fableton no one could spend the Hand's proprietary cryptocurrency.
Plastique, he knew less about, mostly that they were considered more extreme because they worshiped plastic. All plastic. As a material, as clothes, as tools, as a concept of perfection? Or whatever it is they meant by "ascending their form." But if two opposing churches were vying for the same space, then Ricky their conflicting preaching could draw a large audience.
What Ricky saw instead were two men, one in a business suit with gold filigree and the other wrapped in black trash bags like a robe, having a fistfight in the middle of a cheering crowd.
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Steffo parked the jitney behind a squat building, gave Ricky instructions on where to go and who to talk to, and then explained how there was no way in hell that he was going to step outside of this car while inside Belvidere. There wasn't any doubt in his mind that at least some of the raiders snuck hack in here after the mall kicked everyone out, and if any of them recognized him then he'd be in trouble. Ricky nodded in empathy, his own embarrassment at returning to work was currently having an internal fistfight with his need to prove his worth to them.
Ricky hadn't remembered his name from Steffo's instructions, but he recognized the training instructor within the office building-turned-mining headquarters. A man named Marlow with large, rough scars and a gut to match his attitude squinted down at Ricky. "Oh, it's you. I heard you quit out day one, boy?"
Was he squinting, or sneering? Ricky never could read people very well, so he often tried to remain politically neutral. "Yes sir, my contract was resolved so I'm here to return my exosuit."
Marlow clicked his teeth and pulled out a tablet while muttering to himself, "Kids these days. Back in my day if anyone tried to take a hauler home they'd get shot before they made the gate... Bel's getting soft on you lot, no work ethic..." Ricky closed his eyes and silently begged the man to finish up. "Huh, that's weird."
"I can explain!" Ricky snapped, just a little too quickly. "You see, when I closed my contract there was someone with Belvidere authorized to unlock me and... uh, Mr. Marlow? Sir?"
"Huh what? Oh not that, I mean I can't even get past the firewall on this thing." Marlow gave the tablet an annoyed smack with the back of his hand, then squinted at the exosuit itself. "In fact, I don't recognize this hauler at all. Did you bring this gear from outside?"
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"No sir, it's the same exosuit but I repaired it! In fact, I was hoping this could prove my qualifications as a mechanic —"
Marlow made a noise that cut Ricky off, either a harumph or the man was trying to dislodge something deep within his chest. "You? Repair one of our high-tech, piece-o'-shit suits? That's some bullshit boy, this thing almost looks brand new." But then Marlow froze for a beat, eyes wide, and whatever he realized coated his next words in slick oil. "'Course, if you want to return it anyways then I'm sure Belvidere will thank you for submitting it to the company... might wear it for just a bit m'self first... let's get you out, eh?"
Ricky was halfway out of the suit before his external instincts caught up and yelled for his attention. "No wait, never mind!" He turned the suit like a dance partner and stepped back inside, trying his best to fake a laugh. "Ha ha, you're right! This was all a trick, I already returned your suit! I'm just here to gloat because my, uh, new employer gave me such good gear. Yeah. Uh, not like a threat to your company or anything! Belvidere's just going to have some nice friendly competition now." Ricky snapped the last latch and stood up to face Marlow, still recovering from his half stumble. "Ahem. Um, sorry. Bye!"
The exosuit's feet — Ricky's exosuit — were the only sound in the awkward silence as Ricky power walked as fast as he could without drawing attention, and he didn't stop or say another word until he was back on the street. In hindsight Ricky should've predicted this could happen, he made far too many modifications for anyone to recognize this suit. But as a silver lining, at least he could confirm that claiming ownership on equipment held some authority outside of the system.
"That's some preemo shit you got, kid." Ricky yelped and whipped his head side to side, before realizing that he had to look downwards. A short hybrid woman casually leaned against the building, blowing clouds of vaporizer out from under a mass of hair. Without her looking up Ricky couldn't see her face, but she was clearly talking to him.
Ricky tried to reign in his paranoia and said, "Oh uh, thanks! Worked on it myself. Because it's mine. Not Belvidere's."
"Totally, that floating bald spot isn't going to give tech like this out to some teen." The woman flicked one of the exosuit's struts and it rang with a musical chime. Then she finally looked up at Ricky and he saw a round face with goofy buck teeth and dangerously sharp eyes. "Last time I saw gear this shiny was on a mall trip."
Fresh panic and paranoia lanced through Ricky's mind. "Uhhhh no idea what that means sorry bye!"
Ricky turned and maintained his power walk down the street in his best attempt to remain discreet, but broke into a run when he heard Marlow wheezing for him to stop. Anyone running in an exosuit is bound to draw attention, including from security forces, and Ricky ran down the first available alleyway in a blind panic. There was no way he could talk his way out of this, and he knew from experience that any attempt would just make the situation worse. Not that running away looked any better, if he didn't get away.
Another random turn put Ricky back onto the main street, directly in front of the amassed religious spectators. If Ricky didn't slow down he'd bowl someone over, but if he didn't slow down then security would catch him. A heat blossomed against Ricky's back as electricity arced around him and the exosuit lurched on its own, squatting down and launching Ricky bodily into a long jump.
He cleared the crowd with room to spare and stuck the landing. Once he recovered the suit returned manual control as if that impossible jump never happened, except for a series of rapid beeps warning him of a dangerously low battery. Fear for his own safety vanished for Ricky, trampled under curiosity for something new to test. Momentum kept his legs moving until his good sense caught up, and Ricky made a running dive for the jitney.
Hopefully no one saw him, and Ricky would deal with Steffo's well-deserved "I told you so"-ing in the meantime.
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Ricky eyed the pitiful tools before him: A jurryrigged pully system, rusted welding helmet, and improvised apron. His blacksmith knowledge chiming in on what counted as clothes for the profession was a pleasant surprise for Ricky, until it determined that his best effort for a blacksmithing apron was no more than a mere mock smock. But — and Ricky needed to remember the importance of silver linings — at least this means he'll also get to test the limits of his feat-granted temperature resistance. He chained up the exosuit, braced himself, and wrenched open the door.
Heat crashed over Ricky like a physical wave, even as he twisted to the side and out of the anomaly's direct path. The hot spot bounced lazily within the metal dome, happy to stay in its little home from before Ricky was born.
Not for the first time Ricky marveled at how a phase shift anomaly was just a minor background detail for Fableton. Here was a floating ball of intense fire that never went out and never needed fuel, yet no one could figure out how to utilize that besides incinerating trash. It had the power of a small sun, and one day Ricky will hold it in the palm of his hand.
For now, it only needed to stay in its little home. The exosuit swung on its hoist into the open doorway, catching the full heat of the hot spot, and Ricky coaxed it into the right position with heavy gloves. Every scrap of decent metal that Ricky could find was lashed to the exosuit, mostly a mix of Drillbert's torso and the useless heavy armor he made for Phanya, and in the light of the fiery anomaly the plating began to soften. Ricky raised their vaguely hammer-shaped scrap high in the air and brought it down with a gentle tink. Unfortunately that tiny hit was enough to send the exosuit swinging on its single chain, so after every hit Ricky had to swing it back into place.
Steam visibly wafted from all exposed skin as Ricky baked in the residual heat. Deep in the back of his mind Ricky knew this wasn't supposed to work so effectively with the metal folding under his hammer, but it felt right. The untrained eye wouldn't see any progress, yet he flowed into a calm, steady hyperfocus. Right now this anomaly was his forge, this mock smock was their uniform, and Ricky had some blacksmithing to do.
One, two, three bottles of water later, Ricky gulped in a gasp of air and slumped in the shade. The instant he closed the door to the hotspot's dome, Tapper rushed to his side with hydration and a fan, just like they planned. But he hadn't expected a small crowd of onlookers, making appreciative noises at the finished product: A round breastplate and pauldrons form-fitted to the exosuit as one new, completed product.
[Equipment upgraded, P-1000 Powered Work Loader, +1/1 armor]
Ricky grinned to himself, he felt like a baked roach but he really took the first step towards bonafide power armor.
[New crafting discovery found: Light armor! +1 XP]
And it was still worth only a single experience point?