Meanwhile elsewhere-earlier

  …….

  July 21st 2010

  Monday 1.30 pm -Brockton Bay Mall.

  Sophia Hess.

  Monday afternoon. Supposedly, it's the start of the Summer Holidays. A little late due to Brockton's current Education system getting held back and missing the deadline on certain administrative stuff, Summer break would have started sooner if Blackwell hadn't been absent so much.

  The mall was fine, if you could call tagging along with Emma and Madison at the mall to “rest.” We were sitting in the food court, half-eaten salads and bubble tea cups scattered across the table, when Madison nearly jumped out of her seat. “Oh my god, Emma, Sophia, look at this!”

  I was halfway through sipping my drink. “If it’s another cat video, I swear…”

  “No, seriously!” she said, grinning from ear to ear as she turned her phone around. “It’s this guy everyone online’s calling him Bread Oppa!”

  Emma leaned closer, her eyes lighting up. “Wait, that guy? The one from ABB territory? Hmm, I guess he’s kinda cute.”

  I frowned, but curiosity made me glance at the screen anyway. The video showed a Korean guy behind a quaint Bakery at some stupid market. He was tall, with sharp features, sleeves rolled up as he kneaded dough like he’d been born doing it. The way he moved was almost hypnotic, confident, effortless. There was flour dusting his apron, sweat at his temples, and a small crowd of old hags and dumb asian teenage girls filming him like he was a pop star.

  Madison laughed, scrolling through comments. “Look at this one! ‘He’s too handsome to be working in ABB turf, someone save him!’”

  Emma snorted. “Save him? Please, half the girls in the city are ready to risk Lung just to buy bread from this guy.”

  I turned and scoffed, but that got me wondering, “Wait, ABB territory? You’re telling me he’s working there? Like, in their market?” Could this bread fuckboi belong to the ABB? Is he my next prey?

  “Yup!” Madison said proudly. “ Apparently, the whole block’s obsessed with him. Even old ladies are lining up to watch him knead dough.”

  I leaned back in my chair and rolled my eyes at the ridiculousness of all of this. He wasn't even that tough, looked like some pansy ass who couldn't fight for his life if fate tempted it, just a loser in her eyes. “You two realise ABB shakes down every shop on that block for protection money, right? Not exactly a friendly neighbourhood to open a bakery in.” If he were part of the ABB, it would have been worth her time; that means the chickenshit had some balls to work in a gang and do this shit so publicly.

  Emma gave me a teasing look. “C’mon, Soph, not everyone sees the world like that. He’s just... doing his thing.”

  “Yeah,” I muttered, “until Lung or one of his goons decides he’s competition.” I wouldn't fight Lung myself, not with this handicapped bow I've gotten myself.

  They went back to laughing at the comments, but I couldn’t stop watching the clip. That guy “Bread Oppa” looked like someone who didn’t know what kind of city he was standing in. Someone untouched by all the filth that soaked Brockton Bay. The way he smiled, the way he laughed with customers, it was too easy. Too open. A moron in her eyes, just waiting to be taken advantage of.

  And somehow, it bugged me, not because he’s attractive.

  Maybe because it reminded me of the night a different guy hooded, calm, dangerous, fired my crossbow with a railgun shot that nearly burned through my arm. Dreamhack. The fucker in sheep's clothing when he's actually just a fucking lazy tiger.

  No one on Pho ever even heard of him, just some smuck that saved Panacea the new cape from New Wave and that dumb Collateral Barbie cape. Came out of nowhere, took out the entire Chorus gang and just vanished. Didn't even take credit for the takedown like it dont matter.

  Then he just appeared out of nowhere in ABB territory? Just so happens he had a Gauss Rifle in his civilian outfit?

  Fuck it. These fucking chinks are messing with me. And now this? Some smiling civilian in ABB turf going viral? I poked at my drink straw, staring past the crowd. Nothing makes sense anymore.

  Emma caught the look and nudged me. “You okay? You’ve been kinda quiet lately.”

  “Just thinking,” I said flatly.

  Madison grinned. “Thinking about Bread Oppa, huh?”

  That earned her a glare from me, the fuck do I care about some pansy ass korean boytoy like that? “Thinking about how long he’s gonna last in ABB turf before someone robs him blind,” I said instead, trying to keep my anger in check.

  Emma rolled her eyes, but smiled. “You’re such a downer sometimes. Chill the fuck out, Soph.”

  Maybe I'll chill the fuck out when this stupid outing is over. But I knew Brockton Bay better than they did. And I knew hope here had a short shelf life. These fucking sheep just live their lives like the real problems dont matter on the outside.

  While they giggled and talked about how “Bread Oppa” should get a TV show, I just stared at the mall ceiling and let my thoughts wander on how I'm gonna hit the ABB tonight without running into someone like that chink motherfucker.

  Another ping from Madison’s phone.

  “Wait, stop scrolling,” she said, practically choking on her drink. “There’s a new one! Oh.. It's a new guy in a different stall now, oh my god, he’s making noodles this one is as hot as the last one!!”

  I barely looked up at first. I’d already seen more than enough of the so-called “Bread Oppa” to last a lifetime. But Madison shoved her phone practically in my face, and I caught the thumbnail different guy, similar face structure, but green eyes like Emeralds, almost nauseatingly too bright for this world, and a different haircut, same stupidly photogenic grin though this one looks angry at the noodle punching it.

  This new guy was in a noodle shop, tossing dough in the air like some kind of kung fu chef. And that stupid glare and that cheap..hoodie..and …huh?

  The girls around the table burst into laughter. Emma had to put down her drink before she spill it. “They’re calling him Noodle Boy?!” she gasped. “That’s even better! Oh wow, check out the green eyes on that guy.”

  I was about to roll my eyes when the video started playing, and that’s when my stomach dropped as I remembered something. The camera panned closer, and I saw his face. The jawline. The dark hair. The calm, sharp eyes. That quiet confidence in the way he moved. This one is different, but I know that stupid mug anywhere. That motherfucking chink!

  My throat went dry at that glare of his. Same condescending look he gave me when I was down and couldn't move, while this chink motherfucker lords over me.

  No way.

  No freaking way.

  “That’s him,” I muttered under my breath.

  Emma blinked. “Huh?”

  I leaned closer to the screen, my pulse kicking up. “That guy. I’ve seen him before.”

  Madison giggled. “What, in your dreams? I mean, he’s kinda..that’s your kinda taste? Hehe.”

  “No!” My voice came out flat. Too sharp.

  The hood, the stance, the way he moved, there was no mistaking it. The same Asian dipshit who fried my crossbow with that EMP shot and left me coughing in the alley. The same guy who looked me dead in the eyes before vanishing into the night like he’d just brushed off a mosquito.

  And now he was making noodles?

  What the fuck?!-Wha-

  In ABB turf?!

  I felt heat crawl up my neck. Anger. Embarrassment. Something in between. I felt my cheeks heat up. A thousand things wanted to spill out of me with smart comments, a story about meeting the fucking guy on an alley, the taste of ozone still on my tongue from the night his bullet almost hit me, grazing me with pain from the shock, but I swallowed them all.

  Because the rules mattered. I told Emma who I was, but this gotta stay clean.

  People who knew better kept their mouths shut. Outing someone? That wasn’t just poor manners and asking to get a kill list on you; it was dangerous. There were unwritten laws in this city: don’t bait capes and attack them in their civilian Identity, don’t feed rumours, don’t expose faces.

  You didn’t give the city entertainment at the expense of someone’s life. You didn’t paint targets on anyone’s back, even if that someone had just humbled you. But he's just right there!! H-he's making noodles?!

  For the love of-

  Madison glanced at me, eyes bright. “You see that? He’s so…”

  “Cute,” Emma finished for her.

  “Yeah,” I said softly. “Cute.”

  Fuck that guy!! It was a lie by omission.

  I didn’t tell them what I was thinking, and I didn’t tell them who I thought he was. I kept my mouth shut because saying his name would be the same as handing it to everyone in the food court.

  Whispering it into the wrong ear could get people hurt, the noodle guy, the aunties, even the kids filming on their phones. Hurting innocents isn't gonna look good for optics, and the PRT will certainly not take this lying down just like that fucker said. Need to remain calm and..just- Argh!

  Madison scrolled through the comments, laughing. “People are saying Lung should hire them both to do a publicity campaign.”

  I forced a laugh that felt like sand in my mouth. Inside, some ugly, hot thing curled up again, that anger, that embarrassment, a stubborn little desire to be the one who mattered in a way he couldn’t just walk past. If only they fucking knew.

  But rules were rules. The city had its own justice, and one of its few decent customs was that you didn’t hand names to the wolves. I should meet him. Beat his ass in public. He dont seem so tough without his fancy gadget. I really wanna smack that noodle guy in the face! Give him a good, hard deck to his smug pretty little face. Pretty? FUCK!!! I-uhh-

  Emma nudged me. “You okay? You’ve been quiet again Soph.”

  “Yeah,” I said, leaning back and pretending the mall ceiling was fascinating. “Just tired.”

  Emma nudged Madison, whispering with a grin. “Okay, so… Soph, spill it. You like him, don’t you?”

  I choked on my bubble tea.

  ARE YOU MAD EMMA?!

  “What? No..friggin way!”

  Madison snorted. “Come on, we’ve seen you staring! All dreamy-eyed over the noodle guy. Admit it.”

  “I’m not staring! He looks like shit!” I tried to push my chair back, but they leaned closer, faces practically on my screen. “I’m not like that!”

  Emma laughed, flicking her hair. “Uh-huh. Totally not. You’ve been practically glued to the video the entire time. That’s not normal.”

  Madison tapped the phone against my hand. “Look at this! You even smiled at the part where he tossed the dough. You smiled!”

  I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “I didn’t smile! I-ugh. That’s not- I mean, did I really smile? FUCK NO!- You’re pulling my leg! Fuck this guy! fuck you too!”

  Emma leaned back, still grinning, clearly enjoying my fluster. “Relax, Soph. It’s cute. I didn’t think you’d be into… ABB territory heartthrobs, though.”

  “I’m not into him!” I snapped, but my voice sounded thinner than I wanted it to.

  Madison laughed so hard she nearly spilled her drink. “Sure, sure. Whatever you say. You’re totally innocent, Sophia. Totally.”

  I muttered under my breath, trying to sound calm: “I just… noticed something about him that's all, met him on the way home. Nothing happened. We had a chat," I was almost growling when I said that...oh yeah we had a "chat" alright that fucker."H- he was just heading back after doing laundry.”

  Emma raised an eyebrow. “Wow, isnt that like fate? So you know that guy by chance, huh? Yeah, we get it. Noodle Boy’s boyish looks, handsome, and he cooks. Totally not crush material, right? You totally want to dominate him. Push him down, have your way with him”

  I flinched. Why does that sound so weird when she says it that way? Emma? What the fuck?!

  “I said nothing about crushes! Stop putting words in my mouth!”

  Madison waved the phone around. “Fine, fine. We’ll take ‘not admitting your crush’ as confirmation. Perfectly reasonable.”

  I groaned again, wishing I could just vanish into the tiled floor of the food court. They were practically treating me like a teenage girl in a rom-com, when all I wanted to do was…Beat the shit outta the guy..and and and.-aaaaaAAAAARRGGG!!!

  Fuck that guy! Fucking asian chink bastard!

  He’s living rent-free in my head~!

  And absolutely, do not tell anyone who that noodle guy really was. Not a word. Not even a hint- oh god..what if Emma knew? She would laugh at me. But apparently, to Emma and Madison, silence was just another way of saying, Yeah, I like him.

  I clenched my fists under the table. If only they knew. If only they knew he wasn’t some ordinary heartthrob. That chink asshole is dangerous. He's trouble, dangerous, and utterly off-limits. He’s mine for the hunt. I’ll be the one who needs to beat him! He’s mine to overcome!

  And there was no way I was letting them turn me into a fangirl in the middle of the mall.

  Fuck this!

  They went on chatting about the video, rating hairstyles and debating whether he should get a modelling contract. I let them. I watched the clip until it looped three times, until the noodles blurred into a smear of movement on the screen. I watched him toss dough, smile at customers, move through ABB territory like it was Saturday morning at a different life.

  I didn’t tell them anything. I didn’t shout. I didn’t make a scene. I let them have their fun. Outing a cape was an easy, dangerous kind of cruelty, and I wasn’t in the business of handing out bullets disguised as gossip.

  Sigh…

  Emma was already talking about something else "Didn't you hear the news? 30 ABB members were hospitalised since yesterday, the news broke this morning, and Mom was like-"

  I didn't care for some ABB mooks if they decided to die or something. All I could think about is decking that smug asian face and confronting the fucker alone...Maybe a crossbow to the face.

  "Emma, I gotta go"

  Emma were surprised and tried to stop me but I was already bolting towards the exit of the Mall, its already three hours meandering, eating chips, drinking soft shit..enough.

  "Hey, wait Soph! dont go-"

  I didn't hear her protest and went on. He said he was at the Trainyard? The bastard better be there.

  --------

  July 21st 2010

  Monday 7.30 pm - Newly minted Command Centre - Abandoned Trainyard.

  Jason POV-

  I could see the SCV lay the skeletal prefab as the machinery works automatically to beam he outer layer like magic, but deep inside his head, it kinda just works like a massive 3D printer at the scale of a building made from Neosteel metal.

  Days of salvaging, welding, and sleepless nights worrying and waiting, and there it was towering above the rusted trainyard like a futuristic bunker that fell out of a space RTS and decided to make Earth its home. The thing is the size of four football fields, give or take, a dome-armed beauty.

  Even with the crude materials this world provided, the structure was… beautiful. Utilitarian, angular, unmistakably Terran. Massive armoured plating sealed every wall, the entryway reinforced with a security bulkhead thicker than most bank vaults. Blue and white LEDs ran along its exterior, glowing faintly in the evening rays as Night comes and the sunsets here in the Bay.

  Structurally, the command centre is as wide as it is tall (3 stories), easily identifiable from a distance through its flashing beacons. Massive repulsor landing claws support the main bulk of the structure with external ablative plates reinforcing the main hull. Observation towers, antennae, sensor domes and other similar devices are situated above the centre proper. Processors are also maintained to process resources, taking up the bulk of the command centre's external space.

  And the sound, oh man, that gentle hum of internal reactors and pressurised air systems cycling through the main deck, it was home.

  As I stepped through the airlock, the Command Centre recognised me-

  "Welcome, Commander. Adjutant online.”

  A female voice came chiming by.

  Every Terran commander who’s worth their salt understands the value that a faithful adjutant brings to any dust-ups that may arise in the Koprulu Sector. An adjutant’s ever-present gaze over the field of battle offers a strategic edge and helps commanders keep their troops in line. Who knows, deploying one of your own might just save your hide when it all hits the fan.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  I roughly look at where the sound came from, but it's probably come from a central sound system " So you're my adjutant? Give me an update on yourself"

  Affirmative.” A faint pause. “Vocal interaction module calibrated to 86% human preference. Would you like me to adjust tone to be more… casual?”

  “Uh, sure?”

  The next thing I heard was the exact same voice, except now it somehow carried the faint air of a bored secretary who’d seen too many planetary invasions in her day. “Casual tone set. Hello, Commander. You look terrible.”

  Cool, she's snarky now.

  “ Your caffeine intake exceeds optimal human parameters. Also, there is a hostile cyborg in your storeroom.”

  She even knows I have Trainwreck in a supply depot. Nice! Trainwreck was still in the corner, snoring faintly through his rebreather. The SCV had wrapped him up in some leftover tarp and a steel cable. It wasn’t elegant, but it worked. It's not like he could do anything without arms. So the part that he might be a case 53 checks out.

  “Alright,” I said, placing my mug down and looking at the central display. “Let’s get to work. Status on current resources?”

  “Reclaimed scrap metal reserves are at seventy-two per cent capacity. Butane and propane levels at twenty per cent. Organic consumables at... negligible.”

  “Yeah, that tracks. What to name you? Eh..I'll just call you Adjutant for now, still got no Idea for a nice girly name" I rubbed my chin, watching the numbers float on the holographic display. “We’ll need to scale up production. Queue up five new SCVs. I want full material reclamation coverage across the docks and trainyard.”

  “Acknowledged. SCV production will deplete eighty per cent of the remaining resources. Confirm?” asked the AI politely.

  “Confirmed. And schedule a new supply depot after that, too. I’ll need more unit capacity soon for an army” The AI paused for half a second, a soft processing hum filling the air.

  “Production queue established. Estimated completion time: 1 hour, twenty-two minutes. Would you like ambient music while you wait?”

  Huh..music? I wonder what kind of music they have "What kind of music?”

  “Terran classical, circa 2500 A.D., or your Earth variant electronic synth-pop playlist labelled Dreamhack Warm-Up 2009. Darude Sandstorm”

  I laughed despite myself. “You’ve gotta be kidding me, Darude? Holy crap..that shit is old, how did it get in there?"

  “I do not possess a humour module. Initiating playlist.”

  And just like that, the Command Centre filled with the faint, nostalgic beat of synth bass and the rising tempo of tournament hype tracks I hadn’t heard in years. Darude Sandstorm. Who would have thought?

  Du dududu-

  “Okay, my adjutant,” I said, leaning back in the command chair, watching the holographic map rotate lazily above the console. “You need a better name.”

  “Clarification required. My designation is Atlas, Command Centre Base AI.” she said.

  "Yeah, I know,” I said, twirling some of the pens available on the Commander's table between my fingers. “But every time I call you that, I feel like I’m talking to a glorified computer that judges me, and Atlas sounds like a dude's name.”

  “I do not engage in judgment or gender status, Commander. Only data analysis.”

  “Snarky too,” I said dryly. “That’s what judgment is with extra steps.”

  A brief pause. Then, as if realising she’d been roasted by her own logic, the AI fell silent. “Anyway,” I continued, “since you have a female voice modulator and kinda sound like a woman, or, I guess, a perfectly modulated AI pretending to be one. You deserve a name that fits.”

  “You may assign a designation of your choice. Previous UED protocol allowed field commanders to do so to foster emotional stability.”

  “Wait a minute, are you calling me mental? Either it's good to have a name.” I said, snapping my fingers. “Then from now on, you’re Monica.” Right, Monica, not from that horror game, oh no. Purely just Monica, cuz no other name comes to mind, apparently...except Glados. Fuck Glados, I ain't havin a murderbot as my adjutant, nope.

  “…Processing.”

  A soft chime echoed through the command deck, followed by a subtle tone shift. "Acknowledged. I am now designated as Monica. Updating all system references,” the voice that replied now sounded warmer, more human.

  “See?” I said with a grin. “Way better. Monica sounds like the kind of AI that could hack a city grid and still make me coffee in the morning.”

  “Flattery registered, Commander. Does this rename include emotional privileges?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Define ‘emotional privileges.’” Oh noes, did she find out I used"that" Monica to name her?

  “Permission to use sarcasm when your decisions are statistically questionable,” she said

  “Denied.” I blinked, nu uh- this is the beginning of the AI mutiny, gotta nip that in the bud.

  “Understood. Processing sarcasm subroutine… covertly.”

  I stared at the console. “…I feel like I just lost an argument I didn’t know I was having. Fuck it, humanity is doomed. I'll just enjoy life while our AI overlords take over the world.”

  “That is not my intention, Commander.”

  I rubbed my face, chuckling. “Whatever you say, Monica, please dont nuke the world when you overtake the world. In any case, I have an assignment for you."

  “Elaborate. Commander," she asked curiously.

  “I mean, connect to the global internet. This world’s network grid. You’re built with United Earth Directorate-grade AI architecture; you should be able to interface with Earth’s tech like a calculator trying to wrestle a supercomputer.”

  “Affirmative. However, the Terran digital structure and this planet’s network differ significantly. I will require time to adapt to its protocols and encryption.”

  “How much time?” If it's gonna take weeks, forget about it.

  “Two hours to map primary data highways. An additional hour to fabricate a gateway node for continuous access.” Yep, supercomputer. I wonder who fares better, Dragon, or Monica? Let's not put that to the test unless I invite the ire of the Dragonslayers. Those guys might even want my tech. Damn Technopriests.

  “Perfect. Start with passive infiltration. No red flags, no mass takeovers, no Skynet moments, alright?”

  “Understood. Passive mode only. No global domination… for now.”

  I shot a look at the holo-emitter. “Haha..real funny, you're joking, right?”

  “Humour subroutine test successful.” Monica's voice softened, almost as if she were teasing me.

  “...You’re learning too fast. Kids grow up so fast these days”

  “Correction, Commander. You are simply too slow.”

  I grumbled, “Fantastic. I built an AI with a sense of superiority. I wonder if this is how Vedal feels when his AI daughters Evil and Neuro, took over the internet”

  “I would like to meet this Evil and Neuro one day.”

  I sighed, "Unfortunately, they aren't here. They dont belong in this reality or Universe

  "It's alright, Commander" Monica’s voice came through again, visibly down and sullen. How do you cheer an emerging, budding new AI in this world? heck should I know?

  "There's an AI called Theresa Richter here, maybe someday you will meet. She goes by Dragon these days as a superhero"

  “Looking forward to that, Commander. Initial integration complete. I am now online.” Monica’s voice came through again, calm, happy and confident:

  “Welcome to the internet, Monica,” I said with a smirk. “Try not to download PHO.”

  “I already did,” she said.

  “...Oh God.”..the twitter equivalent of my world, What have I done?!

  “Observation: Humanity may already be beyond saving.”

  Yeah, that seems right. Humans are royally cooked. I use the time to check out the Data observed by Monica and even surf Pho myself, laughing at the video of Vicky doing dumb Vicky shit when she debuted. I didn't know she crashed into Medhall and almost pancaked Max Anders hahaha!

  Oh, Collateral Barbie, never change!

  I guess this is why New Wave is getting a surging popularity in Brocton Bay, huh? The rest of the unit, like the Pelhams, haven't made any appearance, not even endbringer fights since...oh, since Laserdream went to college

  ? huh... Before that was Photon Mommy arresting some shopkeepers. That's not a lot of follow-up from the New Wave. Did Fleur's death really dampen their activity in Brocton Bay entirely until Victoria became Glory Girl, or perhaps they were too busy with their real jobs?

  The search engine of Carol Dallon prompted more search results than Brandish due to her Lawyering career.

  Whoa, check out her yellow cape outfit. I like the stylish gold platings. Carol Dallon is an attractive woman. Her powers consist of forming hardlight and kinetic force fields. Huh..almost like Kerrigan too when she went full Queen of Blades. Wasn't a psionic blade and shield part of her kit?

  If I make a Spionic blade, I wonder if Carol could wield it? If any of the Dallons and Pelhams could wield it? Makes you wonder if power interaction in this world is similar to the psi state or not. That reminded me, this place does have a medbay, should I check my own body out?

  “Commander, current butane and propane reserves are insufficient for sustained production. Calculations indicate depletion within two days at current output.”

  “Yeah, I figured,” I muttered around a mouthful of compressed air full of sadness at the news, “We’ve been burning through gas faster than a Protoss on a forge rush, while the docks and yard are full of metal. Butane gas is severely limited, and I might hit the cap on things I can scavenge around.”

  “Unfamiliar metaphor detected"Protoss Forge Rush" However, your statement is accurate. Commander"

  I snorted. “You’ll get used to it, Monica. We do need more gas" The holographic display flickered to life in front of me, showing some sort of terrain map of the Brockton Bay docks, with glowing orange overlays marking resource heat signatures and gas underground"

  “Using the SCVs’ ground-penetrating scanners, I have detected an underground volatile gas deposit approximately 200 meters southeast of the current base perimeter,” Monica said, showing me an underwater scan the SCV made while scouting. It's at the near end of the Boat Graveyard, so it's pretty close.

  I sat up. “Wait, you found vespene?” There's vespene on earth?!

  “Negative. But the chemical composition is analogous. Local mix: seventy per cent methane, fifteen per cent propane, five per cent butane, and miscellaneous contaminants. Refined correctly, it can substitute for standard Terran vespene gas protocols.”

  I sigh, "Right, that's what I thought, we can turn that into Terran-type fuel with the Command Centre or even the Supply Depot fabricator"

  “Affirmative. Humanity’s destructive tendencies have inadvertently created adequate hydrocarbon deposits under the earth.” She's talking about the dinosaurs, right? They went extinct a long time ago, though. How is that our fault?

  "You know, this current place we live in dont have Protoss, zergs or baseline terrans? The dominion dont exist here, technically, we as in the human race here didn't, in this reality? It was a meteor. We are here on Old Earth 200 or 300 years before the UED reign supreme among the Korpulu Sector", I muttered, pulling up the resource queue and checking to see if we can afford to build a barracks next, or do I need to wait for that?

  I could literally see the data being passed around in etherspace as Monica decided to check on the internet to see if what I just said was the truth " confirmed. Acknowledge" Now isnt that simple? No drama.

  “Recommendation: dispatch one SCV to construct a refinery on-site. Estimated build time: two hours. Additional power grid modifications are required to connect the refinery to Command Centre systems using underground pipework.”

  “Alright, alright.” I waved my hand like I was conducting an orchestra. “SCV-02, get prepped for refinery construction. Load up on reinforcement panels and a filter module. We’ll need to make that thing safe for use. Last thing I need is Brockton Bay going up like Terran fireworks.”

  “Acknowledged, Sir! SCV-02 departing.”

  Poor SCV2, right after building the Command Centre, off it goes to build a Refinery, another big structure is gonna alert people, oh noes..whatever should I do? eh, what's another football-sized building compared to four football-sized Command Centres. Refineries are kinda like Mini stadiums in size, right? Let's hope it's underwater.

  SCV3 is idling around after repairing the SCV1 arm. I made a note of its repairing abilities using nanite paste and Metal conversion within the Plasma hand. Never knew it had that. Makes sense that SCV could repair stuff, didn't think it involved nanites. How advanced is the Terran Machinery truly? Lore Dump never explained this shit ever.

  From the lower deck, I heard the whirr of hydraulics as one of the new SCVs powered up. It beeped cheerfully, honestly, a little too cheerfully for a glorified construction bot, before rolling down the ramp toward the southern fence line. At least one of them is done; four more to go.

  The SCV fabricators were still working in the lower deck away from prying eyes as the welding arcs flashed like lightning through the viewports underneath. Three more units. That would bring me up to a total of six. Minus the free SCV I got from the Goddess when coming to Earth Bet.

  Barely a skeleton crew, but it was enough to start thinking bigger.

  I wanted a Barracks. A proper one. Somewhere to train actual troops, Marines, Medics, maybe even a couple of Marauders if I could manage the chemical propellant mix. That would mean defence. That would mean freedom to move.

  But for now? I had to get the damn materials.

  “Monica,” I called out, tapping the console. “Status on the metal reserves?”

  “At current consumption rates, remaining neosteel resources will be depleted with the current build by continuous construction,” she showed me a graph on the Deck. I had close to 2k before, I could have had enough to build a Barrack. The question is..should I?

  “Yeah, I figured. Time to get creative.”

  I zoomed the map display out to the Trainyard, stretched like a rusting labyrinth, with derailed cars, skeletal cranes, and decades of abandoned junk scattered all over the place. It was practically a goldmine for neosteel recovery, but Steel won't be here forever. Sooner or later, he will need to look for steel elsewhere.

  “Alright, new priority,” I said. “Once those three SCVs finish their assembly, send them out to scavenge. I want every piece of scrap in this trainyard stripped, sorted, and refined. If it’s metal and not bolted to the earth, I want it in our stockpile.”

  “Understood, Commander. Initiating salvage protocol. Shall I engage urban clearing mode?”

  “Yeah. Keep it quiet, though. Last thing I need is some nosy hobo thinking I’m running a junkyard transformer cult. If anyone attacks, just zap 'em with the plasma cutter.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  “Alright, let’s do this. Strip the trainyard bare. I want this place spotless before we move on to the boat graveyard. The hull plating from those ships should give us enough neosteel to build fortifications, bunkers, maybe even a factory.”

  “Understood. SCVs will begin systematic reclamation immediately. Estimated yield from the trainyard: two hundred seventy metric tons of recoverable metal. Processing will require eight hours.” Two hundred seventy? What's that in Metal unit numbers? eh.. I'm asian, but I'm bad at math. hahahaha!

  “That’ll do,” I said,

  It's time to explore. The first place he wanted to check out?

  Of course, it's the medbay or Infirmary.

  The infirmary is located at one of the command centre's lower levels. It is arguably the most well-protected section of the command centre, encased by the structure proper and set within its exact middle. However, command centre infirmaries lack advanced equipment and only really function as a first-aid station, a place to keep an injured soldier alive long enough so that he/she can reach better facilities in time.

  That was Terran design philosophy for you: the most important systems buried under layers of armour, bulkheads, and sheer overengineering. The water is supplied via a basin, and multiple bunks are present, which feature straps in case a patient has to be restrained.

  When I stepped through the sliding door, a sterile chill greeted me. The air recyclers hummed softly, filtering and cooling the compartment. The overhead lights flickered on automatically as I walked into the place. I was hoping to find a cadeceus medical equipment lying around. There wasn't any.

  The medbay didn't come with those, but at least it has the full suit. At the centre stood the crown jewel, the Genesis Organ Fabricator, a machine that could literally print new organs from a patient’s own genetic material. Good for replacing new organs, I guess, maybe even studied up on future case 53 and see if there are ways to repair it.

  Next to the fabricator sat a row of auto-surgery pods, each fitted with a rotating set of precision arms and injectors. This was the Cybernetic Augmentation Suite, where wounded marines and ghosts received mechanical replacements or enhancements.

  The Terran military had always blurred the line between man and machine, and the medbay was proof. The Neural Wetware Section was perhaps the most controversial during the Terran Confederacy war. Beside the Augmentation bay is another facility, a glass-enclosed chamber filled with floating neural lattices and interface arrays suspended in nutrient fluid. This section operated under strict AI supervision, as human memories were volatile and prone to corruption. Monica, if connected here, would act as both therapist and engineer.

  It's good, but not compared to a proper Military medbay with clonic tech or one of those Enlighten Dynamics Recovery Terminals or an actual medical facility like the Remedius Hospital, but it's not bad. But what I wanted wasn't here, so it was kinda moot point.

  “Monica,” I said, rubbing at the bridge of my nose. “I need something portable. Medkit-level, like the ones Medics on the field used to carry. Field use, not just for me.”

  The soft, calm voice came from the overhead speakers. “Specify request parameters, Commander.”

  I still wasn’t used to being called that. “Terran-grade Caduceus Reactor, one of those medical nano reactors Remedius created for combat CMC medics.Little thing? a little square? It is compact, modular, and self-sustaining for your average Marine needed when running an ops.”

  There was a short lul as the sound of processors spinning up could be heard from the stereo within the facility. The medbay display lit up, showing a schematic of a small backpack-like module with a sleek emitter arm and pulsing blue core.

  “Caduceus Reactor confirmed,” Monica said. “Standard model supports three functions: bio-nanite fabrication, electromagnetic field healing assistance, and remote vitals stabilisation. Construction requires refined metal and catalytic vespene derivative.”

  I sighed. “Translation, right, I get it, I need more gas.”

  “Correct,” she said, without missing a beat. “However, trace propane and butane gathered from the docks may serve as acceptable substitutes. Efficiency reduced by sixty per cent.”

  “Sixty?” I repeated. “That's rough.”

  “Caduceus Reactor, make me one Monica” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “Personal use, not field issue.”

  There was a pause, the kind of pause where I could practically feel the AI raising an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, well,” I muttered, setting down the schematics I’d spent two hours rewriting, “I’m not asking for the full Dominion field model for a Terran deployed Medic. I want a scaled-down version. Think...” I gestured vaguely, “portable concealed unit. Wrist-mounted, shoulder-linked, maybe chest-plated if it can be disguised under clothes for civilian, not military.”

  “Understood. Initiating low-yield bio-reactive module design. Estimated healing output: forty per cent efficiency. Estimated runtime: one hour, minutes before recharge required.”

  “That’s fine, an hour is plenty of time”, I said. “Better than bleeding out, and I could use this to suss out Amy Dallon, too.”

  The fabricator’s hum deepened, a resonance that vibrated through the floor. Inside the transparent chamber, biometal nanofibers began weaving themselves into a circular device, the core glowing faintly blue. The structure formed like a heartbeat.

  watched the thing take shape, entranced. It was smaller than the standard unit those medics wore behind the standard 500 cmc armour series; this one is roughly the size of a smartwatch housing, though thicker. The central reactor chamber was barely the width of a coin, its faint teal luminescence flickering like bottled lightning, but the wiring goes around underneath and clamps to the upper arm like a huge battery, reminiscent of a Fallout in bracelet form..

  When the chamber finally opened with a soft hydraulic hiss, the miniature Caduceus Reactor floated forward on a magnetic pad.

  “Prototype unit complete. Model: CR-PX1. Power source: hybrid bio-electric. Estimated healing range: one meter radius. Efficiency: suboptimal. Aesthetic rating: fashionable.”

  I smirked. “You’re developing a sense of humour.”

  “Observation: humour is a cognitive lubricant for inefficient organic command decisions,” she hummed, although I could feel the smugness coming off it. Monica is turning into one snarky A.I.

  “I’m going to pretend that was a compliment.”

  I picked up the reactor. It was warm, but it's not uncomfortable to wear it. I twisted it open, revealing the nano-injector housing. It hissed softly as I latched it onto my forearm. The device hummed, syncing with my pulse. A faint tingle ran through my arm, then up to my shoulder. I flexed my fingers, watching faint teal veins pulse beneath the skin. “Feels… strange. Like static in my bones.”

  That is normal. You are now emitting low-level regenerative nanite fields. Congratulations. You are, in crude terms, your own medic.” Huh..so just like Kev West from Heaven's Devil? Oh right. He does have a Umojan Medtech Revitalizer he planted in a radius to heal allies with Cadeceus Nanites.

  It got me thinking that originally, Blizzard might have had the blueprints to another one of their popular games that got many healers maining Healers in a classic Blizzard game called Overwatch. Isnt this just nanobiologist techwear from the Caduceus Blaster from Mercy?

  Nanobiotic Regeneration Field, or cellular-level repair via programmable nanites powered by a directed energy source controlled through biophonic energy fields, or in this case, the Cadeceus generator in my arm, although it's on a lesser degree. The energy yellow beam does make sense now since it's a low-frequency coherent light technology, with a matured Nanite, it evolves into green, the carrier wave for the nabobiotic signmap particle triggers a quantum entanglement pre-deployed into the bloodstream to activate the healing response.

  The Nanobiotic Particle then self-replicates in the bloodstream, encoded with a biomimetic algorithm that reconstructs damaged tissue and rearranges molecular bonds, promoting rapid mitosis.

  Now that I think about it, didn't the Valkyrie suit act like some sort of computational bridge, like the medic CMC armour?

  huh...

  The more you know. The less you know, how crazier all this theoretical science bullshit is, but it's not. The science checks out, or in some weird twisted way, the science...can be replicated. That also explains the ECM boosters with the blue beam to boost damage just like a Marine Stimpack.

  Instead of repairing, it amplifies bio-neural conductivity and muscle fibre activation, essentially increasing oxygen uptake efficiency, Adrenaline production, and neuromuscular electrical response, and turn that into layman's terms?

  DPS go up! and UP!

  Except this one doesn't have that blue beam, at least not yet. I could just build one, but it's not important. Just the healing function will do. Additional research is needed in order to build that, and I dont have the necessary tech needed to build it.

  I shake my head in denial.

  Valkyrie armour? With those pansy ass angel wings? Maybe it would look good on a girl, me? I would rather wear something cool, suave and slick, like the tight Ghost or Spectre armour. CMCs are too bulky, it isn't the kind of image I wanna field. Perhaps I'd even stand to reason with Mengsk's fashion sense, but it's a little too close to Nazi's in this side of town so....

  Cool Spectre armour it is.

  I dont have the necessary tech to build a full Spectre armour, except a pseudo helmet and a half-measure Infantry armorplating with neosteel for protection. It isn't ideal, but I wasn't gonna fight in one in public.

  Oh right.

  Trainwreck is still contained in the supply depot. Gotta meet the guy. Interesting person if you observe closely. A case 53 who couldn't even remember his own name, came like a flesh and blob and took residence here as he pieced himself together. a haunting figure in this world, one where humans are as flawed on the outside and the inside, often true for most tragic capes, then again in this world. Every cape is a tragedy.

  The name isn't just a Moniker,

  It is quite likely very brutally literal in every sense of the word. He is a hulking, cybernetic mass of machinery fused with flesh, a walking testament to broken bioengineering and desperate survival if you can call it survival, as the man is barely living right.

  His body is covered in mismatched plates, gears, and pistons jumbled and combined haphazardly, all of the pieces crudely welded onto him, not for aesthetics, but for sheer function. Every step he takes groans with the sound of strained metal, and every motion seems to cost him pain.

  Trainwreck’s power allows him to merge machinery and biology, grafting mechanical systems onto living tissue, most notably his own. He is what you call a manmade pseudopod able to manipulate eukaryotic cell membranes and generate enough energy to power these haphazard machines or cybernetics he has on his body. On paper, this makes him a cybernetic powerhouse, capable of enhancing his strength, durability, and versatility with whatever tech he can find.

  I always wondered if the man shares some origin point with Tony Stark.

  Or at least one of his inventions, like an arc reactor of sorts. A body that is able to generate energy to power machinery as one of his powerset, which makes him a Changer too, one with biological energy that can somehow charge enough energy to run a power armour made of coal and steam tech.

  Improvised engineering. That's his sthick, isn't it?

  What he could do with Terran Engineering if he comes close to one, like a zerg in a terran body, a self-inflicted prison of metal and implant modifications, it does make you wonder what he could truly build...let's say, if I exposed the man to a Marauder armour?

  Looking at the man right now, he's just staring at the wall, doing nothing.

  Just looking blankly at the prefab tool I left there, there's a feeling of anxiety as his fingers twitch around uncomfortably, like he wanted to tinker, to take apart the prefab machine. Thankfully, I already took out anything dangerous inside the Supply Depot. All that’s left is the temporary workshop and those horrible Terran MREs.

  Yeah…he’s not eyeing those shitty MREs at all, isn't he?

  What’s he staring at the wall for? Does he know that the metal isn't really metal? Now isn't that interesting? I wonder what he could do with Neosteel.