Chapter Text
With a final “clunk,” the last block was placed. I reached up and wiped my forehead, before reaching into my inventory for a bottle of water. As I drank, I looked at my creation. One of the final steps in the questbook, this portal was the end result of a playthrough of the Gregtech: New Horizons modpack. Hopefully, it would take me home. After being trapped here for almost two years, I was itching to go home and see my family. Unfortunately, the quest description only said it would take me “Somewhere else.” I sighed and turned to survey the room.
A series of compressed solars made up the roof of the large chamber, funneling power to a series of machines which controlled the portal. The hall was one of many that dotted the swamp I had made home. Thankfully, whoever had sent me here had turned off pollution, so I could build to my heart's content. I turned to the chest I had made ready for my expedition. It contained supplies for the journey, which I quickly placed in my inventory. I hefted my sword, adjusted my helmet, and started the portal.
I emerged into a rundown area of warehouses that could be anywhere in the postindustrial northeast. I removed my helmet and breathed. Sea salt. I paused; a small suspicion formed in my mind. I turned and walked in the direction of the smell, winding through alleys and decaying buildings before reaching the shore, where rotting piers jutted out into the water. I dropped my helmet and went to my knees, unintentionally reenacting the end of Planet of the Apes. A graveyard of ships jutted from the water in the distance.
After a good scream and cry, I sat back up and placed my helmet on my head. There was little I could do here, any change I made might derail the plot and result in the end of humanity in this section of the multiverse. Still, there was one thing I really wanted to do.
Walking down the boardwalk, I ignored the stares and clicks of photographs being taken. I’d stowed my weapons and jingled the gold coins in my hand. Finally, I was at my destination. “Fugly Bobs,” read the sign and I entered to the smell of grease and meat. Let’s see if this place was all it was cracked up to be. As soon as I entered, people froze; a defense mechanism likely developed due to Brockton Bay's nature as a shithole. I approached the counter and glanced up at the menu.
Assault posed for the picture, giving finger guns and a smile as the camera flashed. He was thereafter interrupted by his earbud.
“Assault, this is Console. We have reports of an armored figure at Fugly Bobs. Figure is reported as non-hostile, but we need someone to investigate.”
“Roger, Console. Assault and Battery on our way. Time to greet the newb.”
Battery slugged him in the arm and he pouted. They made their excuses and left in the direction of Fugly Bobs. Arriving after a five minute walk down the boardwalk, they entered to see a young man wearing impressive armor chowing down on a huge burger and a plate of onion rings. Interestingly, he wore no mask and seemed perfectly at ease with the fact his face was now likely plastered all over the internet. They approached him just as he set his burger down to drink his milkshake.
“Well, someone seems hungry!” said Assault. Battery slugged him in the arm again.
The man finished his sip and said “Yeah, homemade is never really close to a real hole-in-the-wall style experience. God, I missed civilization.”
Interesting. “Well, I’m Assault and this is Battery and we’d like to welcome you to Brockton Bay and Protectorate ENE. I’m rather surprised you’re willing to show your face. Secret identities are a thing for a reason.”
The man smiled. “My unique circumstances mean I’m not afraid of the gangs. Honestly, I’d like to help, but my method of dealing with danger has always been…final.”
Assault kept his cool, but Battery subtly warmed up her powers. “That’s an interesting admission, Mr?”
“Call me Steve. It should suffice as a codename.”
“Steve it is. Now your statement could be considered an admission of villainy…”
“Oh, everything I’ve done has been on non-humans outside US jurisdiction. You don’t have to worry.” He took another bite of the burger and said “Mmm. God I missed this.”
That was even more confusing. Perhaps he was a mercenary from the African chaos? Still, they had a duty. “What are your intentions here, Steve?”
“Food and shopping. I’ll have to exchange some gold first. Do you know a good jewelers or pawn shop?”
Gold? Definitely a mercenary. “I can’t say I do, Steve. What sort of goods are you looking for?”
“I really want to pick up some electronics. A computer, some games, a record player and some music, stuff like that. I probably won’t be in town long.”
“Well, we’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t try anything “final” while you’re here .”
“Oh, of course not. I’m well aware of the expectations given to Capes.”
Micro Center, Brockton Bay
I guided the cart along the aisles as I stocked up on computer parts. I’d already hit a record store for some good tunes. Turns out Apple had collapsed here, and instead the Zune reigned supreme, so I had picked up one of those. Now I was putting together a PC strong enough to fight god. Strong for 2011, at least. Despite the tinkertech, Earth Bet hadn’t progressed as far as the earth of 2023. I had also picked up some software and games. I wouldn’t be able to use the internet from my Minecraft world, so I was making sure to spend a few days here to get a bunch of social interaction done.
I had a decent amount of cash after a trip to a pawn shop, and a quick jaunt back home saw me with a top tier circuit from the Gregtech tree, which I was going to deliver to Armsmaster as a peace offering. As I left the store, I noticed some commotion. As I expected, a group of Nazi thugs were swaggering up, alongside someone who must be Stomrtiger. The crowd cleared out, giving us space, but several remained behind, filing us with cell phones. Brockton Bay, right?
Stormtiger started in on a speech about some Nazi bullshit, but I tuned him out and pulled my Crystal Studded Cosmic Neutronium wand. I waved it, picking up Stormtiger and beginning to smash him into the concrete with telekinesis. The goons accompanying him pulled pistols or melee weapons and began attacking. None got through my Infinity armor. Eventually, they gave up and ran as the sound of a motorcycle approached.
Armsmaster was just as curt as I expected, though he seemed interested in the circuit I gifted him. Stormtiger was foamed and loaded into a van. He’d probably be broken out, though. Brockton sucks.
Chapter 2: Lung
Chapter Text
Armsmaster examined the circuit the new Tinker had given him. It was amazing. Quantum level circuitry, paths that both existed and did not exist at the same time! How did he even make this? It was mindboggling, more advanced than any other tinker and completely out of his ability to even approach. It had been given as a gift and he was very much wishing for more. Dragon was staring at the scans, he noticed, as he watched her broadcast from her lair. “Colin, this can’t possibly be right!”
“It is,” he said. “This man is probably the most advanced computer tinker on the planet, and he’s in Brockton Bay, shopping for consumer electronics.”
“Why would he even bother? His tech is beyond all of that.”
“Perhaps he is limited to only making hardware and requires non-tinker software? That would explain why he was buying things.”
“Perhaps, but it doesn’t explain the armor…or the sword.”
“Said the man with a halberd,” Dragon playfully commented.
“Assault suggested he was a mercenary from the African chaos. He paid in gold coins of unfamiliar make and sold gold ingots to a pawn shop. Perhaps he’s just stocking up now that he’s back out of that situation? He seemed adamant that he wasn’t going to be here long.”
“The Protectorate needs to recruit him ASAP. Whatever he used to apprehend Stormtiger would be a godsend to us, let alone the PRT.”
“He seemed willing enough to follow the law when Assault spoke with him, though he said his methods were more “final.” If he joined the Protectorate he’d rise high.” A twinge as Armsmaster thought of himself as sliding down to irrelevance, which he squashed quickly. This was more important than his ego. Plus, if he brought him in, he’d get some of the glory.
“Hopefully, if he does something final, it will be against someone on the edge of a Kill Order, and we can sweep it under the rug.”
April 11, 2011 12:30 AM
“-and don’t forget to kill these children as slowly as possible. I want them to be examples. None may mess with the Dragon.”
Taylor Hebert crouched atop the building, watching and listening in horror as Lung and a group of ABB planned multiple murders. She had to do something! She began summoning her swarm and-
Wait, there was someone else coming! She glanced over to see a man in armor walking calmly towards Lung and his stooges. What was he doing?!? He seemed completely unconcerned, judging by his body language. An ABB member noticed his approach and alerted Lung. Lung turned, mask glowing in the light of a burning trash barrel. “Who dares approach the great Lung on his own turf? Speak your name, that I might remember it once you are dead!”
The man drew a strange sword, rippling with fractal patterns, and said “Dead or alive, you’re coming with me; and you can call me Steve.”
Lung bellowed and began to grow, flesh rippling as he expanded. “‘Ill ‘ou” he said through a mouth elongating and growing teeth. The man merely stood his ground, waiting. Lung charged and made a swipe with clawed hands at him. The man dodged and swung his sword, severing Lungs arm. Normally, this would merely annoy Lung, but something strange happened. Lung collapsed and began to revert to human form. He lay still and unmoving.
He was dead. Lung was dead with only one swing of the sword! The ABB gangers turned and fled. The man glanced up at where Taylor was and she suddenly realized she had been holding the swarm in a mass directly above her head. Sheepishly, she dispersed the swarm and began making her way down to the street.
The man waited for her to get down before saying “Hello there! I suppose you were about to do something before I showed up?”
“Yes, he was planning on killing children. Is he really dead?”
“Yes. The infinity sword kills with any hit. I use it for difficult cases. Do you have a phone?”
“Uh, no.”
“Well, I do. I’m going to call this in. You want to stay and meet whoever they send? You seem new.”
Taylor thought for a moment. “Yes, I need to introduce myself to the PRT anyway.”
Armsmaster stepped off his bike and looked at the situation. Lung, sans one arm, was lying in a pool of his own blood, unmoving. He might actually be dead. His armor’s visor focused on Lung and took some readings. Yep, dead. This man had had a very serious night. For some good news, it wouldn’t be too hard to get this guy into the Protectorate. A little threatening consequences and he’d fold, and they could sweep the death of Lung under the rug quite easily. The only reason they hadn’t given him a Kill Order was that any attempt to kill him would bring too much collateral damage. That had been the case until Steve, anyway.
“Steve, it seems you have committed a serious crime. Murder is, to put it bluntly, frowned upon in the parahuman community. You’ll have to come with me, I’m afraid.”
The man shrugged. “Sure, if that’s what you want. This fucker,” he nudged Lungs corpse with his shoe, “was planning on killing children so I decided to stop him. I won’t apologize, given his rap sheet.”
Armsmaster grimaced. “Be that as it may, you have no right to be judge, jury, and executioner. Come with me, please.”
“Alright. See you later, bug girl!”
Armsmaster blinked. He almost hadn’t noticed the figure beside Steve. Her armor was scary, to be frank. “Who are you?”
The girl started, as if she hadn’t expected to be addressed. “I don’t have a cape name yet. Tonight’s my first night. I was patrolling when I heard Lung planning on killing kids. I was about to do something about it when Steve showed up and killed him.”
Armsmaster nodded. “I’d like you to come in as well, to give a statement.”
Inside an interview room on the Rig, Director Piggot looked through the one-way glass at the new parahuman making her life a mess. The cape, “Steve”, was sitting at the table listening to a Zune. His helmet sat on the table, ignored. Scowling, Piggot signaled for Armsmaster to enter the room and begin the interrogation.
“You willingly admit to the murder of Lung?”
“Yes, I killed him. Honestly, you people should have done it yourselves long ago, that’s why you have so many supervillans, you don’t use lethal force on those using it on you. Most villains aren’t bulletproof and will die to a sniper easily. Just use Miss Militia.”
“Lung did not have a Kill Order, therefore you were not allowed to kill him. There is a procedure for things like this.”
Steve shrugged. “If that’s what you think, fine. May I go?”
“No,” said Armsmaster, “you may not. You don’t seem to realize what sort of situation you’re in. Now, if you were to join the Protectorate, we could see about getting you released on probation and serving the community for a few years. Otherwise, we’d have to arrest you and send you to prison. Now, what will it be?”
Steve put his helmet back on. “Neither,” he said, and disappeared.
I arrived at the underground base I had constructed on the outskirts of Brockton Bay and took off my helmet. I then thoroughly searched myself for trackers. Satisfied there were none, I put my helmet down and walked to the small living area I had set up. One bad guy down, many to go. Honestly, I couldn’t wait to see if I could kill an Endbringer.
Chapter 3: Max Ander's bad day
Chapter Text
Max Anders was not a happy man. Some time during the night, someone had built a large, three-dimensional obsidian penis on one top of his building. On top of that, it spat fire from its tip. Further, there was a small sign at the base which read “I know who you are, Max. ¡No pasaran!”
Of course, before they’d done anything, they’d removed the sign. Still, after the debrief by the PRT, he held a meeting in his other persona. “Who the fuck did this?” he raged.
Most of the time, he didn’t rule by violence, but simply by establishing he was better at planning, speaking, and obtaining funds. Now, he was feeling violent. Even Hookwolf seemed alert for once. Krieg was first to speak, from beneath his pickelhaube, “Our security cameras on the roof caught a figure we’ve identified as a cape known only as “Steve”, the same one accused in the recent death of Lung. He appears to…T-pose onto the roof, produce a device from nowhere, and suddenly the…object appears. Then he plants the sign and waves to the camera before giving it the finger. We scrubbed the tapes before the PRT arrived, as is procedure, but we kept an offsite backup.”
Kaiser took a deep breath in and out to calm down. “I want him found. I want all our assets on it. He knows who I am. He doesn’t care about the rules, at any moment he could reveal me, and if he knows me, he knows all of you.” There were nods around the table, except from Hookwolf, who barely cared about his civilian identity except for the fact it made going out drinking easier. Night and Fog nodded because everyone else was nodding, but no one paid attention to those mindbroken puppets. It was at that moment that the lights went out, and a number of things were teleported in.
When the dust cleared, the room was wrecked, the sprinklers were dowsing a few fires, and whatever had teleported in had been destroyed. There was one thing left, however. It was a piece of paper, yellowed with age, which merely read “Hope you don’t mind, but I borrowed that warehouse on 34th. Whole thing. Figured I could use some armaments for the gang I’m starting. XOXO, Steve. P.S. I pissed on your sister's grave. Talk about “rain”, eh?”
Kaiser read the paper, looked at the rest of the room's inhabitants, then walked to a safe. Opening it, he removed a small black notebook. He then turned to the group. “Krieg,” he said, “you will be visiting our cousins overseas. I will contact you with the details. Now, all of you, get out.” They did so, and Max Anders walked upstairs to his office and pressed a button. Shutters covered the windows, and the office was now soundproof and almost immune to spying. He then began yelling cursewords, and would not stop until losing his voice.
Meanwhile, in another dimension, Steve was throwing the bodies of several Nazis into lava to dispose of them. He was listening to the Rolling Stones while doing so, and singing softly under his breath. “The change has come/she’s under my thumb.”