LIGHTNOVELONLINE Cutscene: Tinker Toys
Cutscene: Tinker Toys
The bearded Tinker leaned forward over his workstation, feeling the chair adjust automatically to his movements. The room was silent, save for the gentle hum of the air conditioning system – a sound that his keen ears picked up amidst the tranquility. With a single hand, he shuffled through the collection of writings arrayed on his desk, his own handwriting neat and crisp despite his mental state having been what it was when he made them.
His other hand cupped his chin, two fingers barely managing to conceal the slight smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. Even in his most chaotic mental state, Colin took solace in the fact that he hadn't solely relied on analog methods of data storage. Much of his writings were also recorded within several tablets on the table, their digital counterparts offering a level of organization and accessibility that paper alone could not provide.
Redirecting his focus from the physical notes, Colin reached for the nearest tablet and raised it to his face.
Glowing blue holographic text flickered across the screen, lines of code and schematics swirling and shifting in response to the slightest gesture of his fingers. With a careful gaze, Colin scrolled through various schematics that danced across the screen, eyes focused but brighter than they had been in months as they took in the notes he had made.
Notes that were making far more sense to him now than they did weeks ago.
“Hm.”
It was not often that Armsmaster found himself in a good mood.
Most days often followed one another in a haze of Tinkering, maintenance, patrols and meetings. Not necessarily in that order, but he considered that sequence the general level of importance to assign them in his head. The endless cycle often left him feeling drained and detached, more often than not.
Every now and again, though, that routine would be interrupted with the occasional cape fight or public appearance, but the latter didn’t take place as often as you would think, even in a city like Brockton Bay. Granted, when they did, they were intense, disruptive, and potentially hyper-lethal, but that was the standard, after all.
Even when the routine was broken, it was still routine.
Being as jovial and positively carefree as he had been of late was a stunning break to said routine, however, and one that Armsmaster found himself often struggling to recapture. It was rare enough when it happened, and it was stunningly fleeting when it did.
Many who knew him—professionally, personally or both, albeit the former far outnumbered the latter—would be hard-pressed to say they had ever seen so much as a smile on his face. Those same individuals would actually go so far as to say they didn’t believe it was possible for him to smile, a somewhat insulting statement but not necessarily unexpected. He knew this not-so-fun fact because he had better hearing than most would think, outside of his suit but especially inside of it.
Again, he wasn’t offended by this.
Colin was acutely aware of the impression he made on others and how he presented himself. More often than not, he leaned into those expectations, preferring not to expend unnecessary effort on being personable when it wasn't absolutely required. He considered such attempts a waste of time, both in the short and long term.
Hence, his surprise that he had been in a mood that he could only describe as good for what was nearing well over a month. An unexpected surprise, but not necessarily an unappreciated one.
With a simple nod, Colin rose from his workstation, tablet in hand, and walked over to the far wall of his private rest area. He pressed his palm against a barely-raised section of the wall, which indented almost immediately as skin met surface.
After a brief pause, the scanner beeped its confirmation, and with a quiet hiss, the door to his lab slid open. Colin stepped through, rubbing his eyes as he entered. The stark white light contrasted sharply with the warm tones of his private room. He paused for a moment, surveying the gleaming white walls, the hyper-sanitized environment, and the bleeding-edge equipment that most Tinkers would likely—and probably—kill to have access to.
The temperature was perfectly controlled at a constant 25 degrees Celsius, the ideal environment for delicate machinery, and the air smelled faintly of ozone, a byproduct of the powerful electromagnetic fields generated by the lab's many machines. Colin took a deep breath, feeling the rush of purified oxygen flood his lungs, and savored the moment of stillness before he started moving once more.
He made his way over to a nearby shelf, eyes trailing over the surface of the metal as he scanned the labels of the various tools and materials that were carefully organized there. Everything was in its proper place, neatly sorted and arranged, as he was well aware that even the smallest deviation could have catastrophic consequences for his work.
After a few more moments, Colin came to a stop in front of an enclosure on the wall, the capsule’s doors sliding open with a pneumatic hiss as the Tinker approached it with a purposeful stride. Polished blue-and-silver externals gleamed under the bright overhead lights, the accompanying skinsuit and the newest model of both his helm and halberd encased alongside the brand-new armor.
He noted the slight smile on his face reflected back at him from the metal-and-carbon fiber that made up the externals of his newest power armor. With a slight glance to his right, Colin gestured towards the similar enclosure just a meter or two away. With an identical hiss, the capsule opened up just like the first displaying the model he was preparing to retire, the suit looking much less welcoming than it once had.
His gaze swiveled between them both as he raised a finger to tap a command into the tablet in his hand. Obediently, the first suit of armor opened itself up, its mechanisms unfolding with a faint hiss of compressed air. As it did, the Protectorate Tinker’s eyes flicked over the intricate array of circuits and sensors that lay exposed beneath the titanium nanocomposite outer bodysuit.
Barely two meters to the side of the first suit, standing by itself on the wall in an enclosure of its own, was its predecessor. Colin watched as its mechanisms opened outwards in a slightly off-sync mimicry of its replacement. This suit had been his pride and joy for years, but now…
Not good enough.
As he scrutinized the mechanisms, Colin couldn't help but feel a sense of pride mixed with a tinge of melancholy the longer he looked on. The older armor, with its almost completely blue externals, had served him well for years, the Tinker having upgraded and tweaked it to its near limit, but that was far from enough.
He wasn’t sure what he had been thinking, really. Spending increasing hours and hours every day making extensive changes and effectively pointlessly time-consuming alterations just for a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of an increase in performance. It was the epitome of a waste of both his time and effort.
And to think, he had once been approaching something near satisfaction with his improvements to his armor. But now…
Now it was clear to him just how much it had fallen behind his current standards. Just the movements of the older suit alone were slow and almost disjointed in comparison, its actuators and servos not nearly as smooth and precise as those in the newer version, explaining its lack of flexibility and responsiveness.
As he continued to examine the armored suits, Colin began to notice more and more subtle differences between the two. In comparison to the clunky, to him, nature of his previous armor, the newer suit moved with the natural gait of a human body on its own even without him in it.
For a moment, Armsmaster felt the slight urge to frown as his attention remained drawn to the sluggish response times of his older design. To his current standards, the armor of just thirty days ago felt years out of date, antiquated even.
Damn near obsolete, in comparison.
The urge faded quickly, though, as he glanced back at his current armor, something just short of a grin spreading across his face at his own handiwork. His eyes traced over the hydrostatic gel layered into the inner skin-suit as it shimmered in the harsh fluorescent lighting, Key to his survival, it provided a degree of cushioning and support from the pressures of operating his armor. Not only that, but it was exceedingly comfortable as it molded itself perfectly to the contours of his body, a sight that would have been met with the approval of Narwhal, if no one else’s.
He had started work on the new armor design in fits and spurts, the entire process beginning with what had at first just started with what was intended to be a complete overhaul to its artificial muscle systems. What he had ended up with, after several intense Tinker fugues, was the largest-scale refactoring of his armor designs he’d done in nearly a decade.
The first had begun quite literally a month ago, nearly to the day in fact. Inspiration had dropped onto him from the most unexpected source, causing something of a revelation.
No, more than that.
While the term had religious connotations that he’d rather not associate his work with, it almost felt like there was no other way to describe it than nothing short of…
Well, an epiphany.
------------------
"Hello, Colin."
The sound of a voice caught him by surprise, and the Tinker blinked the exhaustion from his eyes, the familiar ache in his back and hesitation in his muscles, from long periods of work suddenly making itself known as he drifted back into awareness. Armsmaster stared down at his fingers, precision tools falling from his clawed grip onto the table in front of him.
"D-Dragon?" His voice wavered, a testament to his weariness. "H-how… how long?"
He didn't need to finish the question; the mere statement was enough for Dragon, of all people, to know what he was referring to.
"A little over nine hours this time," she replied, her digitized voice carrying a note of concern.
"…oh." His face contorted with a mix of disbelief and self-reproach.
"Indeed," Dragon's image shifted on the screen, her digitized avatar's expression changing to a visible frown. "I've been checking on you in thirty-minute intervals after the first five."
Armsmaster opened his mouth to say something in return —a thank you, possibly— only to glance down at the table in front of him and lose track of everything else on his tired mind almost immediately. The once organized workspace had been transformed into a chaotic mess of disassembled gadgets and blueprints, an aftermath of his single-minded focus.
His gaze wandered over the scattered components, each one a testament to his relentless pursuit of perfection. Armsmaster's obsession with improvement was both his greatest strength and his most persistent weakness. The dedication to his craft had led him to remarkable achievements, but at the same time, it had isolated him from others and robbed him of the balance in his life.
He felt the weight of Dragon's concerned gaze on him, and he squared his shoulders, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "I... I appreciate your vigilance, Dragon," he said, his voice strained with fatigue. "I simply lost track of time."
"You need to take better care of yourself,” she admonished, voice soft yet firm. "Your work is important, but so is your well-being."
Armsmaster sighed, conceding to her point. His body ached, and his mind felt as if it were running through a thick fog. He knew he needed rest, but the drive for progress pushed him to continue despite the toll it took.
"I know, I know," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck in a futile attempt to alleviate the tension. "I'll… try to do better."
Dragon's avatar smiled, a small gesture of reassurance. "That's all I ask, Colin."
------------------
It had, in fact, been the inquisitive review of a certain individual's medical scans that sent his mind into a state of disassociation that nearly every Tinker was familiar with and, more often than not, sought to induce.
It was a highly unique and irrefutably interesting state of mind to suddenly know something so deeply that its inner workings become instinctual and ingrained, almost a thing of the body itself rather than the mind. If he were a more philosophical man, he might have spent countless days pondering over if his abilities simply decided to grant him some expertise ex nihilo or if his mind was just enhanced enough to draw these connections from its own heuristic system.
Regardless of the means, time was meaningless when he was deep in the hyper-focused fugue state that Tinkering often brought on. Save for the inherent limits of his physical body and the necessities it required, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was possible for him to simply Tinker indefinitely, improving on improvements he had just made until he eventually reached a hard limit.
If such a thing exists…
Anyway, by the time Armsmaster had come back up for air that first day, he'd had the bare bones of a brand new suit lying right in front of him. It was at that point that he knew he couldn't turn back to what he had grown used to.
What he had put together that day would be his step forward, he knew that.
The inspiration had been one part, a necessary part, but still only one part.
The second and most important part had been an almost-forgotten present from Dragon — a birthday present, of course — because who else would celebrate his birthday? Granted, the issue with that wasn't others choosing not to, it was his own negative response to his birthday. He didn’t mind sharing the time to enjoy other’s celebrations but with every year, his own birthday was just a reminder of his passing age and eventual shift into decrepit obsolescence.
Armsmaster sighed, two fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he felt his mood drop slightly with his own thoughts. No one better than yourself at ruining a good time.
Anyway, the gift itself had been a two-parter; a carbon metamaterial, nano-gel insulated at that, along with a much smaller amount of a piezoelectric reactive liquid metal. While both Tinkering materials had been appreciated, especially given the effort and time required in the manufacture of the latter, Armsmaster had simply been unable to truly utilize either at the time.
Granted, that had been more of a lack of desire rather than ability to do so, but he had been focused on maximizing the efficiency of his current designs rather than setting himself back by creating something entirely new.
Yet those same metamaterials had finally been put to use - good use, at that. Hours and hours of painstaking work he could barely recall had laid the groundwork for a new set of power armor, layers of metamaterial patterned into the myofibril structure of his new suit with the liquid metal serving as a layer in between, the former placed in specific patterns that even now seemed imprinted onto his memory.
Of course, Armsmaster knew he likely could have done it without the metamaterials at hand but it would have been like knowing how to bake a cake without the proper ingredients at hand. Or rather, maybe it would be more comparable to chiseling Michelangelo's David out of simple cheap wood.
Either way, it wouldn't be nearly the same.
By the end of his efforts that week, Armsmaster had in front of him a suit that stood head and shoulders over all his previous ones. He had no other way to define it other than simply a massive leap forward in his own potential. What else would you call a massive increase in strength, durability, agility and responsiveness all across the board, after all? The incredible breakthrough had almost made his hours of Tinkering everyday to eke out a fraction of a single percent of improvement seem pointless.
Almost.
Building on top of his old designs with the addition of the new concepts had allowed him to make the most of the muscle analogues the undersuit portion of his armor utilized as well as that of the external exoskeleton musculature. With the nature of the rigid yet reactive undersuit designed to support and protect him while working in tandem with the enhancile nature of the polymers…
Well, the capabilities spoke for themselves.
Each thin cord of meta-matrix polycarbonate synthetic muscle fiber already had five times the tensile strength of elastomers, allowing for a potential force projection easily two hundred times past that of human norms.
And with all those corded sym-muscle bundles built into the skeletal frame of his armor along with the reactive gel layer amplifying the force even further, the ability to kick a car across a street lengthwise was well within the realm of possibility. A near flawless amplification of speed and power.
And to think, he still wasn't finished.
Not even after weeks of Tinkering.
Colin glanced down at his tablet, a slight sense of unease as he reviewed the specs of his new armor. The battery life suffered an 18 point percentage drop compared to the previous armor’s and that was accounting for physical parameters on par with that of said older model. Defaulting to the standard output would result in at least a 50% drop in expected operational hours, and that was without taking into account the more advanced capabilities he had included into the new design. The Tinker shook his head with slight frustration, mouth twitching slightly downwards as he once again gave the numbers a once-over.
Not to mention, the cooling system… he mused with a hand on his chin. Need to work on that.
Said cooling system was far less efficient than he felt in any way comfortable with, a potential worry for the future. That ignored the fact that the armor had yet to be entirely proofed against electromagnetic interference, let alone the more exotic capabilities some capes could bring to battle.
No, even after being given the approval to use this armor in the field, Armsmaster still wasn’t satisfied with what he had done. Still not finished yet, he mused. Though, really, he doubted he would ever consider it finished.
It especially hadn't been finished when he had taken the suit out to keep Lung at bay, especially considering the muscle underlay had still been visible, but the suit had once again shown its worth. While direct combat would have been a different story, the thermoneutrality of the metamaterial design had made weathering the indirect effects of Lung's flames much less of a problem than in the past.
“Note to self: Thermal insulation is a priority for the near future; temperature regulation a necessity,” Armsmaster muttered the words to himself, already compartmentalizing the thought for later. The Tinker took a few steps back and stretched his brawny arms outwards as he kept his gaze on his wall of armor.
After a moment, a slight frown crossed his face as he focused his attention on the new set of armor once again and gave it another once-over. “In addition, additional jump jets for potential pauldron or greave upgrades; improved mobility is a must. Short-term flight, a likelihood.” He nodded slightly. “Would need an ion cyclotron resonance frequency booster to even begin, though.”
Granted, the PRT had not originally been pleased with the use of an untested and unreviewed suit in the field but Armsmaster truly couldn't find it in him to care. Even after having to wait two weeks to receive actual approval for his new suit, he wasn’t truly so irritated as to lose his good mood.
Two weeks, though, the Tinker mused to himself incredulously. They act as if I'm Kid Win with no idea of what I’m creating. Insane.
He had been too happy to expend the effort to worry about any reprimand he would receive, verbal or otherwise, for using the suit without approval. Even Piggot’s general attitude over the last few weeks barely put a dent in his mood.
Hell, he had been far too happy in general to care about anything.
After all, why wouldn’t he be? This new suit would elevate him in a way he hadn't thought possible for years…
But still number two. His expression shifted downwards again, the slight smile he had been wearing now a frown as the errant thought intruded on his good mood. Still never good enough.
Colin understood very well what it meant to be a leader. He also knew what the importance of strength meant when it came to leadership. He knew it especially well being a Tinker, and even if he didn’t, a multitude of strangers on the Internet would make sure he was quickly made aware of that fact.
No one in his team understood his mindset or the pressure it took to be him. No one would look up to Legend, Alexandria or Eidolon if they were not the absolute strongest the Protectorate had to offer.
And he…
He wasn’t even the strongest on his own team.
Not yet, at least. Not quite yet.
Even then, it might not make much difference. Colin pushed his thoughts away from his weapon as he turned around and made his way across his austere lab. As he approached his primary workstation, the man dropped himself into his chair with a heavy sigh.
With another heavy breath, the Protectorate hero turned to grab hold of a tablet computer sitting on a metal desk just to his right. With barely a glance at the screen proper, he flicked and tapped his way through the device until he finally arrived at what he needed.
[. . . . . . .]
[System Bootup Sequence Initiated]
System Clock: Friday May 13 11:11:04 EST 2011
Initializing CHALLENGER-SYSTEM…
> A.R.M. BIOS LOADING…
> BIOS Version: CHALLENGER // VER 1.22.12
> CHALLENGER-SYSTEM Diagnostics Beginning…
> Running System Diagnostics…
> System Diagnostics complete.
> Booting A.R.M. Suit variant-CHALLENGER…
> A.R.M. Suit variant-CHALLENGER ONLINE
CHALLENGER-Sys Init Completed.
Checking system components...
-Power Supply: Online
-Mainframe: Online
-Memory: Online
-Processor: Online
-Communications: Online
-Sensors: Online
-Thrusters: Online
-Armor: Online
> Auto-Detecting A.R.M Suit Extensions. . . .
A.R.M Suit variant-CHALLENGER extension startup initiated.
Running extension diagnostics…
Full Extension Check
Accelerated Response & Mitigation- [ONLINE]
Bio-Monitor… 100%
Combat Analyzer… 100%
Combat Predictor… 100%
Electro/Echolocation … 100%
Infrared Sensors… 100%
Motion Tracker… 100%
Night Vision … 100%
Real Time Translation… 100%
Visual Scanner… 100%
Vocal Stress Analyser… 100%
Active Responsive Mimicry - [ONLINE]
Actuator Reflexion Management - [ONLINE]
Acrobatic Reactionary Motion - [ONLINE]
Adaptive Response Modules - [ONLINE]
Advanced Reactive Motors - [ONLINE]
Aero-Responsive Maneuvering - [ONLINE]
Armor Rotational Maintenance - [ONLINE]
Anti-Radiation Module - [ONLINE]
Armored Resistance Mechanism - [ONLINE]
Articulated Reactor Module - [ONLINE]
Artificial Reality Matrix - [ONLINE]
Atmospheric Reconditioning Module - [ONLINE]
Augmented Reality Movement - [ONLINE]
Automated Repair Module - [ONLINE]
Automated Resupply Management - [ONLINE]
[All Extensions Operational]
Running Adaptive Response Module diagnostics…
ARM-ATLAS: Atmospheric Terrain Landscape Analysis & Scouting
ARM-ALERT: Adaptive Lethal Enforcement & Rapid Takedown
ARM-BARRIER: Biological Area Respiration Response & Isolation Extension Rig
ARM-CANNON: Compact Artillery, Non-lethal Neutralization Of Non-Civilians
ARM-COMMS: Communication Optimization & Message Management System
ARM-CORE: Centralized Operations & Real-time Engagement
ARM-FIRE: Firefighting & Incident Response Enhancement
ARM-GRID: Geographic Routing Intelligence & Directional Guidance
ARM-HACK: High-Level Access Cybersecurity Kit
ARM-LOCK: Load Optimization & Combat Kinematics
ARM-MEDIC: Medical Emergency Detection & Intervention Capabilities
ARM-ORY: Ordinance Requisition & Yielding
ARM-SCOPE: Scanning & Computational Optical Precision Enhancement
ARM-SPARK: System Power & Auxiliary Reactor Kickstart
ARM-SWIFT: Special Weapons & Interdiction of Fast-moving Targets
ARM-TRACK: Target Recognition, Acquisition & Combat Kinematics
[Adaptive Responsive Modules Operational]
> All Systems Nominal
> All Extensions Online.
> All Adaptive Response Modules Online.
> No Critical Issues Detected.
> Initiating Closed Network Connection Sequence.
> NETWORK ONLINE 0.801.25.392.1
> Now Connected to Closed Network.
> Connection Secure.
> Boot Sequence Complete.
> Diagnostics Complete.
> Power levels at 100% percent capacity and steady.
> Projected length of time till shutdown: 47.2 hours at average levels of usage.
Nearly complete, Colin mused, clicking his tongue as he allowed his mind to wander. But the Adaptive Reactor Management requires some improvement to maximize the suit’s battery life. It goes without saying that the Advanced Resonant Metamaterials need to be elevated in priority, as well. But those thrusters, however…
The bearded Tinker nodded his head. Table that for l-
“Armsmaster?” Colin found himself harshly pulled from his diagnostics; the sound of his moniker being repeated once again quenching any attempts at maintaining his usual laser-focus. “Armsmaster?”
The man in question raised his head from his tablet, the insistent sound of Miss Militia’s voice ringing loud and clear over the speaker of his workshop. Placing the device down on the table in front of him, the Protectorate leader rose from his seat, a response on his lips that he knew she would hear. “Militia, what can I assist you with?”
“I… I tried to contact you through your comms earlier but you didn’t respond, I assumed you also wouldn’t be in your room,” she replied, a slight hesitance to her words even as her tone came off rather flat. “So, I decided to meet you where I knew you would be.”
The Tinker paused slightly at that, blinking as he recalled the contact request he had ignored while in the middle of some armor upgrades roughly an hour prior. “Yes, I was occupied at the time but we can speak in a moment. I’m almost done.” With a few deft keystrokes, his armors — new and old — began to recess back into the walls, pneumatic hisses of air releasing as mechanized doors sealed the Tinker-tech away until he would next need it.
As the doors finally closed, the bearded hero strode across the cold metal tiles of his workshop and quickly opened a steel cabinet to withdraw what he needed. With practiced efficiency, he threw a pristine white lab coat over what he was currently wearing — a simple T-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts bearing his own logo.
Taking a moment to both clear his throat and button the coat to a degree he felt appropriate and professional, Armsmaster turned back around to face the entrance to his lab and spoke. “You’re free to enter.”
The sentence was directed to both his visitor as well as the room itself, the locking mechanism to his workshop’s door responding. A second later, the door slid open with a hiss to reveal a waiting Miss Militia.
Armsmaster observed as his second-in-command entered the room in full costume, a patriotic bandana resting around her neck, leaving her face fully exposed. Her expression was tight, lips pressed together in a way that suggested a restrained frown. Her body language mirrored her face, hands flat at her sides in a deliberate attempt to give nothing away. The only thing that spoke to her tension was the glowing weapon at her hip, a sheathed bowie knife silently buzzing with a miasma of green-black energy around it.
Being the man that he was, he paid no real mind to any of this. Armsmaster simply turned around and adjusted his expression into what he hoped was a welcoming, if restrained smile. Shifting his body language as she entered, the cape straightened his back and clasped his hands behind him in a more professional manner. His tone, too, became more formal and business-like as he finally spoke. "Miss Militia," he greeted her with a careful nod, "What brings you here?"
She hesitated before speaking, regaining her composure with a shake of her head. "It's about the boy." The flag-bearing cape blinked after a moment, quickly correcting herself as she said. “The cape, I mean. The new one.”
Armsmaster nodded in acknowledgment. “Yes, Hardkour.” The name left his lips in a clipped tone, the man seemingly mulling it over as he spoke it. “He is an interesting one.”
Militia’s eyes narrowed, the woman taking a step forward as actual indignation filled her tone despite her seeming calm. “Interesting? Colin, he’s killed dozens of people.”
First names, Armsmaster noted, slight confusion filling him for a moment. He had assumed this was a strictly business matter, given Militia’s use of their codenames in a private location. No, given her response to that, this is clearly a matter of a personal nature to her.
Acting accordingly, Colin let out a slight hum and relaxed his stance slightly, bringing his hands out from behind him to rest at his sides. “Hannah, their deaths were unfortunate but given the situation at the time, we could consider them expected losses.”
Hannah crossed her arms over her chest, staring back at Colin with an expression that told him that his answer hadn’t quite met her standards. The Bowie knife at her hip seemed to shudder violently as she locked her arms in place. “Since when did murder become an expected loss?”
He responded with a firm glance of his own, eyes narrowed. “Since Brockton Bay became at risk of turning into a crater.”
Hannah’s gaze flickered with an unreadable emotion, and she seemed to gather herself for a moment. Colin observed her carefully, his own expression remaining neutral, almost impassive. Her voice was barely a whisper when she spoke again, "Do you truly believe that justifies his actions?"
The Tinker in the room sighed, internally bracing himself for the conversation he knew was coming. "I understand your concerns, Hannah, but justification isn’t our place. I’m certain the PRT itself doesn’t really have an opinion on ‘justification’ past officially condemning his actions, either.” Colin paused to take a breath, gauging how best to phrase the statement he knew would incense Militia. “Regardless of Battery’s unauthorized actions, our current strategy isn't even focused on apprehending Hardkour immediately. We're planning to observe him, yes, but not actively pursue him."
Hannah's eyebrows shot up; her voice incredulous as she responded immediately. "Why on earth wouldn't we? He's killed people, attacked our own team members, and threw a van into a building! He set a street on fire, Colin!"
“A street we are both aware was owned by Empire proxies, and a fire he put out almost immediately after,” the Tinker corrected dispassionately.
“But-!”
Colin held up a hand, trying to stem the flow of her indignation. "Yes, I'm aware of the implication of his chosen actions, but I’m not going to argue on the result. As for his other transgressions, you’re being blinded by your own sense of duty. You need to consider the bigger picture.”
“I’m well aware of the bigger picture, sir,” Militia’s voice shifted, her tone nearly matching the chill of his lab as her eyes narrowed.
“That wasn’t meant to offend, Hannah,” Colin didn’t flinch as he responded. “And no. No, you are not. The boy is a distraction.”
Militia raised a single eyebrow, the rest of her unmoving as she waited on her superior to continue speaking.
He rolled his shoulders slightly in his lab coat, the action seemingly halfway between a shrug and a shake of his head as he corrected himself. “Well, not so much as a distraction as a wrecking ball.”
Hannah tilted her own head forward slightly, a hint of irritation visible in her eyes even as she kept her tone cordial. “That answered very little.”
“I’m aware. You’re lacking context…” Colin began calmly, unbothered by his subordinate’s disquiet. “Our ultimate intention is to use him as a tool to trim down the villain population of Brockton Bay to a more reasonable degree before effectively railroading him into the Wards. Upon doing so, we will use him as a warning to external attempts to infiltrate and revive Brockton Bay’s villain epidemic.”
The room was silent for a few long seconds, the quiet only interrupted by the hum of machinery and near-silent buzz of air conditioning. Finally, Militia broke that with a single, confused, “What?”
“I shared this idea with Piggot and Calvert not too long ago, and they considered it a suitable method of engagement,” Armsmaster continued on, a slight chuckle leaving him as he gave his subordinate a slight smile. “And just last week, I was informed that my proposal was rubber-stamped by the Chief Director herself. I’m rather proud of myself, actually.”
Colin raised an eyebrow at Miss Militia’s clear surprise, her body tensing with the shock of the revelation. “Did I forget to tell you? I apologize. I’ve been rather occupied with th-”
"Apology accepted,” Hannah replied tersely as she interrupted the Tinker as he gestured behind him, the man about to launch into an explanation on something she clearly found irrelevant. She took a deep breath, hands on her hips as her weapon began to buzz a tad more violently. “But please, more details. I’m a little lost right now."
Colin nodded; arms folded over his chest as he leaned against the cool metal of a nearby workbench. He tilted his head to the side, gaze tracking across his lab before he brought his attention back to Militia. "Well, first of all, Hardkour’s effectively an unwilling participant in our strategy towards finally reclaiming the city, a primary part as well. Simply put, he serves as a distraction for the Empire, keeping them occupied."
"And why do we need them occupied?" Hannah questioned him, her gaze fixed on him. Colin kept his gaze on her, both of them silent as they kept eye contact. There was a depth of emotion to Miss Militia that most wouldn’t have noticed from the woman, given that she did her very best to stick to her duties and the standard of whatever orders she was given. It certainly didn’t help that her chosen method of concealing her identity went against Protectorate standards and made it even harder to read her face. Still, though, despite how dutifully she followed commands and protocol when out in the field, the woman was undeniably a bleeding heart in private.
Truthfully, Colin couldn’t help but find it admirable. With a slight shake of his head, the Tinker’s thoughts turned towards the brewing war he expected to reach Brockton Bay any day now, the pincer attack intent on engulfing the city and throwing it into another disaster. News from Boston and New York had made it clear that movement was being seen from the Sky Triad and Flying Dragons, both multinational Asian gangs based in those respective cities. While the Triad was largely Chinese in makeup, while the Dragons were predominantly Japanese, both gangs had a good number of parahumans. Despite that, most were either too weak or lacking the determination to stand out against the other villain groups or heroic parahumans in the cities they resided in.
Having them move towards Brockton Bay, though, would be disastrous.
Colin nodded his head slowly as he looked up at Hannah, the decision to lay it all out on the table one he had already made. "Having him occupied with the Empire allows us our best opportunity to keep the bay from devolving into another warzone. I have it on good authority that the Sky Triad and the Flying Dragons are intent on making a move towards our city. While they are at odds with each other, as far as we can tell, they both share three goals. One, to replace Lung as the primary power in Brockton Bay. Two, to take over what remains of the ABB. And three," the Tinker paused to let out a sigh, “to publicly kill Hardkour to solidify both prior goals.”
One could almost hear a pin drop in the lab as Hannah's eyes widened. "…What?"
"Yes, my reaction was… similar," he admitted, albeit not exactly truthfully. His was much quieter. "While it’s not exactly confirmed, I have heard reports that the ABB has a new leader, but information is surprisingly limited on this. Given who I suspect it is, the Thinkers at WEDG are… about as useful in this situation as I would expect. The precogs, especially.”
Militia nodded at Armsmaster’s words., confusion clear in her eyes as she took in the information. “I… see.”
"Back to the point,” Colin began again, mouth turning down slightly, “apprehending the boy would not be as easy as you might believe.”
“And why not?” Hannah’s eyes narrowed, the patriotic cape standing up straight as she questioned Armsmaster once again. "From what Battery informed us, he's a high-speed Mover but nothing outside of Velocity's pace. We could have him trapped, foamed and at PRT HQ within the week."
Colin shook his head, the man looking Militia right in the eyes with an expression that rang with something approaching tiredness. "I'd argue that you'd be underestimating the same cape that took on Lung."
Miss Militia's eyebrows rose high as Armsmaster's words sunk in. "…You’re joking."
Armsmaster mimicked her, a single eyebrow doing the work of two. "How often does that happen?”
“Fair enough, but…” Miss Militia shook her head, her brow furrowed in disbelief. "But that makes no sense. The vast array of powers, the differing ability, strength, everything…" After a moment of stunned silence, the woman shook her head again, hands on her hips as she glanced back up at a patiently nodding Armsmaster. "That's just not how powers work!"
Colin allowed himself a small scoff, devoid of derision. "Trust me, I'm well aware of how confusing it all is." His gaze flickered to the side, his thoughts swirling as he considered the strangeness of the case. “The vast array of powers he's shown across both identities, they simply don't make sense, especially given the level of magnitude he seems to be able to display.”
He looked back at Hannah, his gaze vibrant and curious as he continued to speak. "His regeneration ability, though? Especially potent and highly distinct. It's how we confirmed the idea before all other evidence really managed to stick. Some of my cameras caught him on the day of Bakuda's first attack - at least the ones that were still functioning. His body was entirely…"
Colin paused, seemingly searching for the right words. After a few seconds, he gave up and shook his head with a slight laugh. "Truthfully, it's rather hard to describe properly. Being entirely honest, I doubt that anyone has ever seen a human body in quite that shape and still intact."
The Tinker held up a single hand before Miss Militia could ask another question, as his other reached for a thin tablet on a nearby table. He palmed the device quickly, raising it up to his second-in-command to take, the datapad’s sleek blue surface bearing his logo. “Here's his unofficial case file, something I've been working with the analysis team to compile. Confidential, yes, but I'm authorizing this.”
Placing the device in Miss Militia’s hands, the woman accepted it with a look of reluctant curiosity.
[FOR PARAHUMAN RESPONSE TEAM USE ONLY]
SUBJECT: [████████████████]
CODE NAME: Prodigy
(Thinker Analysis posits self-aggrandizement rather than ability description)
- White Knight (primary identity association)
- Hardkour (secondary identity association; criminal activity and ABB affiliation)
AGE: [███] - mid-teens (high confidence)
CLASSIFICATION: Trump (8)
Sub: (Brute/Mover (6), Shaker/Blaster (6)) - [All Ratings are tentative]
DISPOSITION: Rogue (Civilians protected, but exhibits aggressive behavior towards Protectorate Heroes; criminal organization affiliations)
LOCATION: Brockton Bay
BACKGROUND: Subject first observed on April 1, 2011, attempting wall ascent. Trigger event estimated within preceding week. As Hardkour, engaged and injured Ward: Shadow Stalker, neutralizing Breaker ability. White Knight persona documented on April 6, 2011, defeating Lung to rescue now-Ward Lady Bug; recorded by villains Uber and L33t.
Trump (8): Preliminary Thinker Analysis indicates evolving Trump ability; controllable-energy field (yellow) augmenting force/durability. Subject capable of extending field to weapons, producing Shaker/Blaster effects with intensified/focused application.
Shaker/Blaster (6): Advanced Pyrokinesis and Aerokinesis exhibited. Significant scope/intensity; structure destruction potential. (Inconclusive) Thinker analysis posits city block range. [Ruin/Impact]
Brute (6): Endures combat despite debilitating/potentially fatal damage; apparent pain/structural maneuverability loss immunity.
- Substantial resistance to blunt force, heat damage, gunfire.
- Superhuman strength demonstrated; van-lifting/launching capacity (15 meters, high velocity).
- Regenerative capabilities observed; near-total organ damage recovery (12-hour period)
Mover (6): Supersonic movement bursts, surface adhesion, wide-range attack evasion. Enhanced agility; leaps, elevated landings, advanced acrobatics feats. [Hurdle/Run]
–Heightened perception, reflexes, reaction times; requisite for high-speed movement. Fast-moving object tracking, projectile interception (e.g., crossbow bolts), bullet evasion.
PERSONALITY: Thinker analysis (psychological evaluation corroborated) reveals Peter Pan-like attributes; narcissism, empathy deficiency, present-focused consequence disregard. Subject exhibits combative tendencies/latent hostility toward Protectorate/PRT authority; playful facade.
His regeneration and resilience has likely left him with a lack of care for his own mortality, implying he is likely to fight even against unfavorable odds.
Prodigy has proved combative and somewhat hostile towards Protectorate and PRT authority, said hostility hidden under a playful mask he is willing to discard if bored, annoyed or feeling insulted.
Approaching him with intent to recruit is ill-advised.
RECOMMENDED STRATEGIES:
Upon hostility manifestation, maintain maximal engagement distance.
Civilian evacuation, Protectorate notification, backup request advised.
Minimum parahuman engagement: two.
Optimal candidates: Brutes/Breakers (melee skill nullification), Blasters/Shakers/Movers (movement impediment/immobilization), Strangers.
Subject's inexperience/single-mindedness suggests trap vulnerability.
Containment foam may effectively restrain if accurately deployed.
Lethal force not authorized.
THREAT RANK B: HIGH THREAT PARAHUMAN
Militia's expression was unreadable and remained that way the longer she stared at the tablet. Finally, she raised her gaze and simply handed the device back to an expectant Armsmaster. "All ratings are tentative." Despite the manner in which she said it, the question was clear.
Armsmaster grunted, his face remaining impassive. "WGDG reports imply that he's likely a growth-type Parahuman. With that in mind, hard ratings would only cause a potential issue of complacency."
Miss Militia took that news silently, her only response a widening of her eyes. It was several seconds before she spoke again, her voice barely a whisper. "So, they're…"
"One and the same?" Armsmaster nodded in response, glancing down to put aside his datapad. "That is the most likely option. Again, WEGDG is dragging their feet on giving me a definite answer, but voice analyses and appearance approximation leave us no other option, really. More outlandish possibilities are a cloning ability or powered projections that possess his appearance or even multiple personality disorder…” The bearded Tinker let out an uncharacteristic snort, slowly walking to the other side of the worktable that had been at his back to face Miss Militia again, “but, again, those are far less likely. The only other option is some sort of cluster trigger, but given the realm of raw power on display, that’s almost so far out of the realm of possibility for this situation it might as well be a joke."
As Hannah took in his words, her fingers tensed around the tablet. She had heard mention of certain rumors like that, the idea that both capes could be one and the same, but she had dismissed them out of hand as the ridiculous online theories of those who didn't understand the reality of parahumans. Multiple costumed personas and a buffet plate of powers was something belonging to old comic books and movie screens, not real life. While the latter was possible, it was just so rare that it fell just short of impossible.
Militia looked up at Armsmaster, eyes grim as he had ever seen them. "Then we're facing a possible Fairy Queen-level threat."
“Curious that you'd use that as an approximation of his abilities.” Colin couldn’t help himself, the slight rise at the edge of his lips becoming more noticeable as he spoke. “I might have argued that he is to Eidolon what Glory Girl is to Alexandria."
Militia's eyes flashed with irritation. "Does any of this really matter, Colin? We didn't give this sort of leeway to Shadow Stalker. This… All of it just sounds like you’re making excuses for some pet project of your own."
Armsmaster held her gaze, the man unyielding as he loomed over his worktable, powerful arms planted firmly on its surface. "Shadow Stalker was using lethal force on random muggers in alleyways. Shadow Stalker was not facing off against terrorists and large well-embedded gangs. She was barely even known to the public and certainly was not a national topic of discussion. You’re comparing two entirely different situations in search of some level of equity that can't be applied here.”
His piercing eyes bore into those of his subordinate, willing her to understand the weight of his argument without him having to delve into the weeks of planning and strategy he had put into this. “Two months ago, the boy was weak enough that Shadow Stalker was a potential threat to him even without the more deadly applications of her power in play, and a month later, he’s clashing head-on with Lung at a stage the PRT hadn't seen him in since he entered this city."
He exhaled a heavy sigh, the tension in his broad shoulders briefly dissipating before they tightened again. "This has gone far past the point where we can treat him like some juvenile delinquent and throw him into the Wards after a talking-to. This requires strategy, Hannah."
The patriotic cape could only glare back, the frustration she wore on her face betraying any attempts to hide the fact that she didn't have a comeback.
Armsmaster wasn't one to care much about people's feelings, at least not unless those people were members of the public, but even he couldn't miss the annoyance and tension on display from his second-in-command. "I'm going to assume you have misgivings on the plans we have for… the boy."
Her voice was tense as she replied, "You'd assume correctly."
Armsmaster's gaze remained steady, the cold blue of his eyes betraying no emotion as he regarded Miss Militia. He shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, as he attempted to convey the depth of his disagreement."Well, frankly, he's too powerful and too well-known for us not to use, so I'm going to have to request that you shelve those concerns for now."
Hannah’s eyes narrowed, her voice sharpening with incredulity. "I would have struggled to do that even before you dropped on me that he was much stronger than I thought possible. He could break the sound barrier, Colin. The sound barrier!"
Armsmaster nodded, his posture rigid, as if every muscle in his body was geared for some unfathomable calculation. "There's not much we can do. You saw how he fought against Lung. None of us could contribute at that point, given that we have never seen Lung reach that stage before. I don't know if you saw Battery's helmet cam, but the boy was literally playing with them. We can't afford to alienate a cape like that, at least not in the long run."
Militia clenched her fists, frustration evident in her body language. "And your proposal to keep from alienating him is to allow a 15-year-old to fight an entire gang of super villains?"
Colin tilted his head, the motion barely perceptible as he allowed himself a moment to ruminate over his own thoughts. "We are rather competent when it comes to our jobs; we certainly have the experience and the ability. However, competence only goes so far when faced with a large enough power gap. It keeps him occupied and complacent and, frankly, I don't think Brockton Bay's homicide rate could be much more alarming than it currently is."
"That's a horrible joke to make," Militia snapped, the corner of her left eye twitching with anger.
"Then it's a good thing I wasn't joking," the Tinker replied, voice as cold as the steel of his halberd.
Militia's expression darkened. "I'd like to hope you're not quite that... jaded."
Armsmaster's eyes flickered with something akin to irritation. "I formulated a plan to deal with the current situation in a manner everyone benefits from. It's not an issue of being jaded, Hannah. It's a matter of being realistic."
"Throwing a child into a meat grinder is being realistic now?" Militia challenged. The woman stepped forward as the last syllable left her mouth. At her side, her weapon buzzed and shifted, more amorphous than anything as it switched between the shape of a knife, nightstick and a pair of brass knuckles in rapid succession. “Is that what we’re saying?”
Armsmaster closed his eyes and sighed, well aware that the conversation was going in circles. As things were going, he'd never convince Miss Militia of anything. That was partly the reason he had chosen to delay informing her of the matters at hand. "That is a fair question, but before I give you an answer, I'd like to ask something of you in return."
Militia frowned. "And what would that be?"
Colin held her gaze, his expression resolute. "I want you to think carefully about something. Would you take a bullet to save one of the Wards?"
"Of course!" Militia replied without hesitation, sounding almost insulted that Armsmaster would even ask. “I wouldn’t let them die.”
"I don't doubt it,” Armsmaster responded truthfully. “However, would you jump in front of a bullet headed for Aegis?"
Militia hesitated, her expression shifting. "B... but I wouldn't need to."
"And why is that?"
"His powers... He wouldn't be in any real dang...," Militia faltered, eyes losing focus as she began to think.
Armsmaster simply leaned away from the table as he stood up straight, arms resting calmly at his sides as he raised an eyebrow, his point made.
Militia let out a long sigh, the fight visibly seeming to escape the woman. "Alright. I see where you’re coming from,” she finally conceded with another sigh.
"Thank you," Colin replied. "Now granted, all of those things you have said about his behavior are true, but place everything he has done in the context of protecting what he feels is important to him — whether it's family, his neighborhood, whatever — and also understand that his relative freedom to act against certain criminal elements in a way we can't gives us — the legitimate protectors of this city — an opportunity down the road to both recruit him and do our job without being overwhelmed."
"So, we're just letting him run wild?" Militia's voice carried a note of resigned disbelief.
"No, certainly not. We are going to have to step in at some point. We can't afford a Boston Games situation, of course." Armsmaster's tone was firm, but underneath it, there was a trace of uncertainty.
"Then when?" Militia pressed, her eyes searching deeper for any sign of doubt on his face.
Colin clenched his teeth, the action keeping an annoyed sigh from slipping out. He respected Militia but she chose the strangest moments to be hard-headed and he never could understand why. "The issue that you're failing to grasp, Hannah, is that the boy didn't simply beat Lung or the ABB. He effectively decapitated their leadership, and claimed the entirety of the gang as his own. Along with the evidence that he left for the authorities to find, from what I've been able to uncover, the gang itself chose to self-maintain by eliminating those who would otherwise rebel against his actions.
As Colin continued to speak, Militia's body language tensed, her arms crossed defensively. "Even with the backing of the former ABB, he's effectively a lesser threat compared to the Empire, simply due to what we know of his nature. On top of that, we're aware of his identity, those of which he's in costume as well as the civilian one that he believes is private. His motivations, family, friends, routine... They're all cataloged, tracked, analyzed and monitored. We… I know him better than he knows himself and all we need to do to stop him at any time is to elevate his threat level and request outside assistance. Any actual attempt to take him on now — much like Assault and Battery did against my recommendation to Piggot — would only allow him to counter our powers in the long run. Hell, if we tried to strong arm him to join, the boy would fight to the bitter end and for good reason. He’d gain much more of a tangible bonus by pushing his limits against us than by simply coming in quietly. I mean, at least, it’s what I’d assume he’d do,” Colin explained with a noticeable smile on his face. “Any cape strong enough to defeat Lung at that point would consider the help of the PRT rather pointless, anyway,” he mumbled the last words to himself before quickly shaking his head. “I'm aware that it might seem callous but allowing this boy to batter the Empire roughly the same way he tore through the ABB only serves to help us. Help the city, really."
Militia frowned, her eyes narrowing. "… You know, throughout everything you said, I honestly can't decide if you're empathizing with this kid or just using him.” After a moment, he shook her head. "Honestly, I'm not even sure what would be worse right now."
Armsmaster's expression betrayed nothing, the slight smirk he had been wearing throughout the entirety of his explanation nowhere to be seen as he shook his head. His thoughts raced, attempting to reconcile his feelings towards Dauntless and the boy in question, Greg. He had to admit that the resentment he felt towards Dauntless did not extend to the new cape, whom he had built a connection with and who had even inadvertently helped improve his own armor. Truthfully, he couldn't harbor resentment for a boy who fought and bled for his power.
Colin glanced back up, pulled from his thoughts by the slow, steady sound of retreating footsteps. "Militia… Hannah…"
The woman in fatigues paused by the door as Armsmaster’s voice reached her. After a moment, she turned to face him. "What is it… sir?"
"Hannah,” Armsmaster barely repressed the urge to sigh. “We've known each other too long for that. Just… do you not see the logic in this plan?"
Militia closed her eyes, unable to help herself as she internally acknowledged that she couldn't disagree with that. After a few moments, she did the same externally albeit with a sigh. "As much as I'd like to argue the point, I do think you're right. He's far more dangerous than Shadow Stalker but… if Shadow Stalker had his powerset, she'd probably have done much worse than what she has.” Militia sighed again, closing her eyes for a second before fixing Armsmaster with another glare. “Still, that doesn't justify this situation.”
"You simply don't understand."
A good deal more frustrated than when she walked in, Miss Militia let out another exasperated sigh. "What do I not understand?"
"This boy… I've studied him. I know him." Armsmaster's voice was steady and resolute, his gaze locked with Miss Militia's.
"I don't—"
"Listen, I was dismissive of him at first. He's reckless, cavalier, and frankly, he's crossed the line more than a few times, I will admit."
"Then why are you trying to defend him?" Hannah raised an eyebrow, her posture tense.
“That’s not it at all.” Colin shook his head as he stared at Miss Militia, a patronizingly patient look plastered on his face. "There is nothing to defend. I'm simply stating facts, Hannah. You know very well that I’ve always seen our situation as a war. The boy, Prodigy, Hardkour, whatever else he chooses to call himself, he sees this like a war game."
Armsmaster paused, his expression somber. "I told you that I've studied him. I might have gone a bit too far in my efforts. I know his personality, his hobbies, his posting habits on online forums. I know the movies he watches, the TV shows he quotes, the games he plays… At this point, I can be quite sure I know the boy better than his own father does."
“Colin—"
"Late March,” the Tinker continued, barreling past his subordinate’s attempts to interrupt him. “Specifically, March 19th, 2011. That was the last time the boy signed into any online game, games that he usually frequented. And he frequented many with varying themes; superhero, science fiction, space travel, fantasy, the list goes on."
"Colin, what does all this have to do with anything?" Hannah asked, her eyes narrowed, searching for understanding.
"That day or the day after was the day that the subject of our discussion likely triggered. And before you say anything, I have done my research to an invasive degree. Possibly too invasive.” Colin’s mouth turned down in a frown, his brow furrowed as he hunched his shoulders slightly. “The boy loves video games. That is the link that our Thinkers are missing when it comes to understanding him, to projecting him. The magnitude of his powers, as well as their diversity, increase after a combat situation, a common trait found in nearly any role-playing video game. His changes in costume and identity are likely not an issue of vanity as I first believed but possibly the method in which his powers work. More than likely, he has to separate his abilities into classes - another common video game conceit - in order to make the most of them."
Armsmaster took a deep breath, his voice growing more impassioned. "Everything he has done since he triggered was likely in pursuit of a self-given quest to save the city, upon which he likely believes he'll be rewarded somehow. All of his actions and thoughts are guided by the fact that his entire focus is that of a video game addict."
"So, when he finds his reward upon fighting back the Nazis and everything else in his way of keeping his city safe is being acknowledged by… maybe Alexandria or Eidolon, I'm not sure on the specifics quite yet… and offered a lofty position in the Wards, in which he not only has recognition but a social circle with similar abilities and experiences, how could any lonely teenage boy turn that offer down?"
Hannah's expression shifted from skepticism to contemplation. "...I see."
"It's the end of his game, the reward he's looking for. Since he's clearly not gaining any tangible benefit from his actions," Armsmaster's expression took a distinct turn downwards, the man's gaze seeming to look past Miss Militia as he quickly added, "other than an increase in power, of course."
"And if the boy refuses or challenges your authority, you have a member of the Triumvirate there to make him submit, anyway,” Militia finished for him. "I'm not disagreeing with the specifics of the plan. I’m not going to insult you by claiming you haven’t thought about it but…” Hannah shook her head. “I just have to ask…"
Colin waited silently for her to continue.
Finally, Militia glanced up at him. "What if you're wrong?"
The Tinker opened his mouth to answer, but whatever he had to say would go unheard. Both he and Militia glanced up as the lights in the lab shifted from a solid white to flashing red, the blaring sound of sirens from powerful speakers audible throughout the entirety of the Protectorate HQ.
Armsmaster's jaw clenched again. “What. Now?”