Chapter 38
Chris
Careful fingers pushed the circular anti-grav unit further and further, gently, until a little click announced it being firmly seated into the socket.
Chris sighed with relief and put the soldering iron away.
"That went in smoothly," he muttered. The previous one acted out a bit.
Booting the already prepped diagnostic tools, Chris flicked his armband computer, and pushed the feed to his HUD.
Reading straight off the main terminal was the superior option, but making sense of raw values meant taking meds, and he wasn't up to wrestling nausea today. The low, persistent soreness in his muscles made him feel queasy as it was.
No, Chris had software to do the heavy lifting. Not the best of its kind—much like math, programming wasn't something Chris was good at—but it did the job. And hey, it only took a few days on prescriptions to write the interpreter, that automatically computed diagnostic readings into something simple and digestible, if not perfectly precise.
And the best part? It only needed minor adjustments to handle new tools and new tasks. Easily one of the most useful things he'd ever made.
Now, if only his field loadout measured up.
His eyes drifted to the hollowed-out remains of the Alternator Cannon. So many materials, so much work, laying in the corner like a large carcass of a gutted fish. Whale? Nah, it wasn't that big. Hippo at best. Which wasn't a fish. Killer whales are about the same size as hippos, right?
Distraction! Focus!
The voice in his head sounded a bit too feminine to be Chris' own. The shill, commanding undertones cut cleanly through the spiraling thoughts, snapping him back to present. His attention returned to the HUD, where the AR graphs orbited the pair of blue-painted armored boots humming quietly on the workbench.
"Okay. Boot systems online," he muttered. The lab didn't have voice interface; talking to himself simply kept his thoughts from wandering. "Servo-frame is in the green. Baseline gravity at one-point-zero G." Adjusting sliders back and forth on the nearby terminal showed the value change smoothly. "No drift. Good start... Engaging assisted movement."
The blue armored plates shifted a fraction, servos underneath moved in a controlled imitation of motion. Nothing scraped, nothing sparked. Most importantly, the boots didn't try to launch themselves off the bench.
"Gravitational field distortion within acceptable parameters... mostly. Phase-lock timing… check."
Chris winced on reflex when a warning briefly flashed yellow. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Still within tolerance."
Armsmaster would have scolded Chris for being sloppy, but the man wasn't here. No need to calibrate every little parameter to absolute perfection.
He tapped the key, making the plates shift again. The field emitters along the soles pulsed in response, and the readout on the HUD spiked before snapping back into place.
"Stance-phase suppression at forty percent," he said, watching the graph. "Impulse assist engaging on contact only. No bleed into swing phase."
A breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding slipped out. "Good. No moon-walking." Or worse.
He tapped again, switching modes.
"Airborne vector shaping…" The boots hummed softly, a vibration more felt than heard. "Gravity bias up and back, five degrees. Hang-time damped. Trajectory correction stable."
On the simulation screen, his avatar leapt, arced, landed—then immediately transitioned into a sprint without losing momentum.
Chris' grin was small, but real.
"Landing dampers," he continued, voice quickening now. "Pre-impact gravity reduction confirmed. Vertical velocity bleed at—wow, okay—seventy percent. Knees still reporting nominal stress."
Nominal for a man in a power armor, of course. Chris would have to see how to reduce it. If servos got compromised...
Another tab. Another pause.
"Inertial assist… armed but gated." He hesitated, then nodded to himself. "Only during push-off. No continuous dampening. If this thing messes up, it messes up predictably."
He grabbed a piece of paper from a nearby pile to scratch a few notes.
"All right," he said, terminating the diagnostic process. "Sprint amplification, jump assist, safe landings, no permanent antigrav, no runaway fields."
The boots stopped humming and the diagnostic profile got saved into a folder.
Chris sank into the chair, a quiet, satisfied warmth settling in his chest. He felt good about this one.
Picking his hoverboard apart for materials had felt nerve-wracking, since reassembling it properly was in no way a guarantee. Worse, it'd felt like admitting defeat. Another one of Kid Win's project proved itself subpar and had to be scrapped.
But the AG-boots sitting on the bench proved it had been the right call.
The board had always been basic, as far as tinkertech went. Sure, the average person might see it as cool and futuristic, but under the hood it was just twin antigravs and an EM thruster bolted to a polymer chassis. A good Tinker could have thrown something similar together in an afternoon.
It was less Armsmaster and more Squealer—just sleeker, since Chris didn't have to assemble it from literal garbage. Or hadn't been. Still couldn't, but only because the PRT took issues with his salvaging operations, and Chris didn't want to give the Director reasons to slash his budget again.
The hoverboard had been difficult to control, hard to maneuver, and not very fast either.
All those flaws had come into very painful focus when he'd tried to use it against Shirou during a spar. Aerial combat supremacy, and all that. Didn't work out, and the only reason the board wasn't scrapped on the spot was because Shirou had been considerate enough to aim at Chris instead of the hardware.
Good old Shirou.
So, compared to that, the AG-boots were in another league. Not simply because they worked better and had wider functionality, but because these boots were Chris' best and most well put together project to date.
The original antigravs he'd ripped from the board were just that: antigravs. They canceled gravity. On and off. Good enough for a mobility platform, but mounting them on armor carried all the hoverboard's problems while adding quite a few more.
Chris had to modify them, and oh boy, did he ever!
The new AG-mods, as he was calling them, had turned out great. It wasn't simply anti-gravity anymore, but a vector-biased gravity field distorter. Highly localized, but capable of suppression, controlled damping, directional shaping, in addition to both inertial dampening, and impulse generation!
Granted, the fact that so much function was necessary to realize a single personal mobility system wasn't ideal. The definition of overengineering, really. Armsmaster would've trimmed it down to three components and made it sing.
When the man had still been mentoring him, he'd drilled the value of streamlined systems.
Versatility and adaptability, he taught, was a Tinker's greatest advantage over other parahumans, and so multi-functionality should be the goal. Regardless of specialization, true multi-functionality emerged naturally from optimized parts performing their role so efficiently that there was room—physically and power-wise—for expansion.
And when each separate component performed their dedicated role well, they could be joined into a single comprehensive system that would allow a Tinker to perform any number of functions.
That approach was plainly reflected in Armsmaster's own work. The systems of his halberd were so tightly packed, they overlapped like muscle fibers. Hell, the servo-frame inside the man's armor was so tightly packed, it could be mistaken for actual musculature.
Meanwhile, if the armor Chris had built for Dean was any cruder, it would be an industrial exoskeleton. Borderline single-axis linear frame.
Armsmaster's lectures justmade sense to Chris, but he simply hadn't been able to replicate the sheer elegance of the man's interlocked, shifting, overlapping systems. Even accounting for specialization bias, Chris' own creations often felt like a Jenga tower made of bricks. It worked, but was composed of stacked solutions that never meshed, rather than unifying into a single cohesive system. And lacking Armsmaster's ability to miniaturize his tech, there was only so much Chris could pack into a single device.
Facilitating and optimizing justone function took significant effort. To a certain definition of optimizing. None of his creations performed their primary function well enough to move on to expansion.
This time, it was different.
Banking on the fact he was right about his specialization, and constrained by the lack or resources, Chris forwent composite systems entirely. He simply made the new device perform as broadly as possible, hoping against all hope, that making it a mod for Armsmaster's boots would allow everything to work.
And surprisingly, it did. Just... weirdly. Backwards.
Instead of multiple dedicated components forming a system, each AG-mod was a single multi-modal device performing a broad spectrum or related functions. None of which was good on its own, but put together they allowed Chris to do one thing well.
Jump good.
Armsmaster would probably have a heart attack seeing one component having to perform five separate roles, and all five being necessary to facilitate one primary function.
It was the exact opposite of what the man talked about. But hey, it worked, and beggars couldn't be choosers. After what's been done with his budget, Chris might as well be the hobo of PRT Tinkers.
The only real complication had been absurd sensitivity to timing. It was unforgiving.
Because everything ran through a single integrated unit, every mode had to transition perfectly at a drop of hat. Gravity suppression and impulse generation on takeoff, vector shaping during airtime, dampening on landing… That wasn't even getting into operations of each individual mode.
It wasn't even design or performance difficulty – the device itself shifted between modes seamlessly – it's just that the way it was supposed to be used, a fraction too early or too late, and Chris would feel it. Hard.
The manual control system used for the hoverboard wouldn't have cut it.
Hitting a few keys, Chris called up the control architecture. Lines of code cascaded down the screen— vector calculations based on real-time comprehensive movement, layout and physics modeling, all synced with sensor input mapping and automated mode transitioning.
Well structured. Meticulous. Very precise.
There weren't any red flags on diagnostics, and another error pass returned zero faults.
Chris couldn't help but marvel, because normally, something this math-heavy would've made his brain short-circuit.
Thankfully, he had help.
After the hoverboard proved itself useless against Shirou, his sister had taken him aside and delivered a thorough lecture on the intricacies of aerial combat.
Weird how much she knew about the subject, but then again, Tanya knew a lot—and she could actually fly. It would've been weirder if her Thinker power didn't encompass flight dynamics along with everything else it seemed to cover. Or was it tactics? Most likely both.
Anyway, the lecture had been long and somewhat graphic, but it all boiled down to a simple conclusion: limited aerial maneuverability, paired with the relatively short firing range of the Alternator Spear, made Chris a sitting duck for any half-competent shooter.
Another one of his creations proving falling short had stung. But instead of stopping on criticism and leaving it there, Tanya had sat him down and made him articulate his problems, define concrete goals, and brainstorm solutions. Together.
And, to his genuine surprise, that methodical approach had actually worked. Well, that, and her uncanny ability to keep you on the task.
Girls could be very scary.
During their conversation, Tanya had made a clear distinction between deployment speed and combat mobility. Carlos and Chris had the former; the Danvers siblings had the latter. Sophia arguably had both.
That got him thinking. The hoverboard had been an attempt to emulate Aegis and Glory Girl.
What if he looked for inspiration elsewhere?
Mimicking Shirou's physical feats was possible in theory. But even if Chris got a replica of Dean's armor and stripped the plating – leaving servos exposed and vulnerable – there was now way to replicate the skill required to perform the same acrobatics. Maybe with more training and more resources to build a much better power armor. Even then, Armsmaster had a lot of training and a very advanced suit, yet Chris never saw the man pulling the same tricks as Shirou.
So, a distant prospect.
Mass reduction like Sophia's was even worse. Best he could tell, it would require diving into dimensional tech. Which was risky, considering it would have to directly affect Chris' body.
After going over all the ways that could go wrong, that idea was shelved as well.
Tanya, though?
As far as he could tell, her jumps and leaps came from generating forces along desired vectors. It was actually funny how Chris didn't even need his scanner to get the precise mechanics of her power. Sure, how exactly the girl generated forces was the usual power bullshit, but as far as everything else went, Tanya practically handed him a mathematical model of every single step.
Whipping out the scanner only confirmed the same, only polluted with weird energy readings.
In a word, doable.
Even if he couldn't copy the effects of her powers one-to-one, just having Tanya demonstrate and explain each and every step was an immense help.
On the downside, said explanation involved a copious amount of math. It hadn't taken long for the smart girl to figure out Chris' difficulties. Her incredulity at a Tinker having dyscalculia was a bit off-putting, but she'd quickly apologized, and offered to help with the project.
Now, Tanya couldn't assist with tinkering directly, and her power didn't include much skill in the way of programming. However, the girl was good at structuring things, and had a very deep comprehension of physics involved.
She also had a way of keeping Chris on the task. During the whole process, he'd been getting flashbacks to elementary school and Mom standing over his shoulder to make sure he completed homework. Back before the diagnosis.
In the end, they'd built a very intricate physics model, based on all the computations Tanya needed to use her own power.
If Chris was to be completely honest, she did all the heavy lifting. It wasn't that Chris was dumb or didn't understand the concepts—it was just easier for him to work by feel rather than numbers. That was why he preferred manual control over digital automation.
Meanwhile, Tanya broke everything down into formulas, structured parameters, and clean inputs.
Interestingly, the formulas had to be slightly adjusted, because there were few variables and parameters related to the exotic energy she used, but Tanya noticed the problem quickly, and redid everything before they got in too deep.
With everything written out to Chris, making it into software hadn't even been that difficult. Yeah, it was still math, but it was already solved within an already structured model with clear inputs for sensors and outputs for the emitters.
A few days of work, and it was done.
Sure, the resulting control architecture wasn't what you'd call streamlined. It modeled his immediate surroundings in real time—physics included—just to determine which mode should be active. Insanely resource-intensive for a simple mobility system.
But it worked.
And all the processing bottlenecks had been solved by badgering Shirou for a batch of Armsmaster-tech microprocessors.
Chris felt a bit like a mastermind doing that, considering the conception the AG-boots lay finding a way to beat Tanya's brother. The girl herself would approve; Chris was sure. When Shirou was out, she led a lot of strategy sessions aimed at the same exact thing.
She also had zero chill when Chris tried to surreptitiously surf PHO on the HUD. His visor wasn't as advanced as Armsmaster's and required some button pushing.
Hmm, maybe I'll ask Shirou to bring back the helmet next. But aside from that...
That was it, wasn't it? All that remained was submission.
Chris reviewed the AG-boot 1.0 file tree one last time. Schematics. Diagnostics. Error logs. Stress simulations. He'd wrung every drop of validation data out of the system short of strapping the boots on for field testing.
The evaluation board liked data.
The general rule of thumb was the more data you submitted, the faster approval came.
The Alternator Spear had sailed through approval because it was mostly iterative design. Armsmaster's halberd platform, integrated Spark Pistol generator, laser subsystem—every element had prior clearance.
The TP-deployment array, on the other hand...
In what he'd proudly labeled a moment of brilliance, Chris had removed it before submitting the blueprints separately.
In truth, it had been panic.
Turned out, the laser mod for the Alternator Spear came from cannibalizing his laser pistol, which Chris had only realized mid-prep for patrol.
He must have gone into a fugue and blacked out at some point, because he had no recollection. Which was a big problem, since the memories of picking apart the Spark Pistol had been crystal clear.
Aside from the new spear he couldn't deploy yet, Chris had no other backup weapon. Only two empty frames.
It had been very awkward going on patrols with what were basically props. Luckily, there hadn't been any fights, and the go-ahead for his new weapon came just in time for the Empire riots.
Not that it had helped much against Victor. In hindsight, going melee against the skill vampire having barely two weeks of training had been a dumb idea. On the other hand, losing it all in a matter of minutes had really put into perspective how much he'd learned from Shirou.
Made the punishing training so much easier to endure, he thought typing out the submission form.
PRT TINKER PROJECT SUBMISSION & PRELIMINARY EVALUATION REQUEST
PROJECT NAME: AG-Boots
DESCRIPTION: Anti-Gravity Assisted Locomotion System
PROJECT CATEGORY: Personal Equipment
PRT CLASSIFICATION (Provisional): Class-E — Personal Mobility / Combat Support Equipment
INTENDED USER: Self (Developer)
PROJECT SUMMARY: Limited cover servo-frame-mounted system employing phase-timed gravity suppression and inertial assistance to enhance user mobility. Intended effects include increased jump distance, reduced landing stress, and improved traversal efficiency without permanent gravity negation or continuous propulsion.
AUTHOR: Kid Win
AFFILIATION: Wards ENE
SPECIALIZATION: Modification (Provisional)
Chris paused.
The AG-boots had really turned out great. His first original project since the budget cuts, and already it was so much more promising than anything else. A real piece of tech, worth investing in. Chris' best shot at getting the funding back.
But more importantly, it was proof.
Concrete proof that Chris wasn't stupid. That he could learn, grow, develop.
That Chris was worth Armsmaster's time.
Worth the PRT's money.
Worth...
Worth not giving up on.
Chris was very proud of what he'd built.
But he hadn't built it alone, had he? The AG-boots were a collaborative project between him, Shirou, and Tanya.
He really, really wanted this to belong to him and him alone. Submit the form, and let it be the first sign that Kid Win was a real Tinker that could one day stand shoulder to shoulder with the best.
Armsmaster. Dragon. Hero.
The Danvers siblings already had it all. They had cool powers, looks, smarts, charisma. Participated in big arrests and even their dad was one of the top-ranked members of the Protectorate.
What more could they want?
Can't Chris have something for himself too?
Just this one little thing. To be more than a joke of a Tinker daring to style himself after the greatest hero in the world?
His eyes fell on the gold-painted trimming of his armband. Hero's color.
Stealing credit like that is wrong, isn't it? Hero wouldn't have done it. Can I ever be like him if I send this?
Steeling himself, Chris closed the form and opened a new one.
PRT COLLABORATIVE TINKER PROJECT SUBMISSION & PRELIMINARY EVALUATION REQUEST
PROJECT NAME: AG-Boots
DESCRIPTION: Anti-Gravity Assisted Locomotion System
PROJECT CATEGORY: Personal Equipment
PRT CLASSIFICATION (Provisional): Class-E — Personal Mobility / Combat Support Equipment
INTENDED USER: Self (Developer)
PROJECT SUMMARY: Limited cover servo-frame-mounted system employing phase-timed gravity suppression and inertial assistance to enhance user mobility. Intended effects include increased jump distance, reduced landing stress, and improved traversal efficiency without permanent gravity negation or continuous propulsion.
COLLABORATOR A: Kid Win
AFFILIATION: Wards ENE
SPECIALIZATION: Modification*
COLLABORATOR B: Armiger
AFFILIATION: Wards ENE
SPECIALIZATION: Bladed Weaponry*
COLLABORATOR C: Argent
AFFILIATION: Wards ENE
SPECIALIZATION: Exotic Energy*
Putting Shirou's specialization as Bladed Weaponry made sense. There was no way someone went about the best way to build a computer and ended up with a sword for no reason. That had to be something baked into his spec. Replication fit as well, but felt more like a murky overlap between Tinker and Striker powers.
Tanya's, though, was pure made-up bullshit, courtesy of Chris.
The girl wasn't a Tinker. She wasn't assigned the rating and, more importantly, hadn't once shown an urge to tinker.
Her profile in the database was weird, though—as was her brother's—listing them as some kind of possible new case, with multiple cross-reference links to research papers about 2nd generation capes, cape families in general, and obscure Case Files. It raised the possibility of her having a minor Tinker power due to some kind of bleed between the siblings.
Super special grab-bags or something. Chris didn't know, and wasn't too eager to learn either. He'd just seen the phrase 'kiss-kill dynamics' and stopped reading.
The PHO had already exposed him to way too much Assault slash Battery stuff.
Very weird, very awkward. Absolutely not something Chris wanted associated with the Danvers siblings, given how much time he spent around them. The weirdos were also the reason he'd been avoiding the siblings' threads.
Anyway, unless Tanya had secretly been making tech at her dad's all this time, she'd be going insane by now.
Months without tinkering? Yikes.
The problem was, Chris couldn't just leave a blank field on this form. The system required a Specialization entry, because even provisional ones, while unconfirmed, gave the board a framework for evaluating design focus.
So Chris just typed Exotic Energy because of the weird readings he'd picked up while scanning the blonde girl. Perhaps Math would have been more accurate given the nature of her involvement here, but what the hell is a Math Tinker?
Whatever. Now the request could be forwarded. Tanya and Shirou would get their share of credit, and before anyone asked question about the spec bullshit, they'd be asking why a Blaster was listed as a contributor.
Was a contributor.
Letting out a breath, Chris finished the form, attached schematics and test profiles, double-checked the upload, and sent the package off to the board before shutting down the workstation.
Stepping out of the sterile brightness of the lab and into the homier yellow glow of the Wards' quarters, Chris imagined the ghost of Hero giving his retreating back a thumbs up.
It was the right thing to do.
Outside, a long pass connected the Wards Tinker lab to the living quarters and then to the main room.
It was the farthest end from the entrance, deliberately isolated, and tucked away behind reinforced doors and layered surveillance. One of the most protected rooms in the building. Maybe even the most protected.
It kinda had to be, considering Tinkertech was valuable, and prototypes could be dangerous and occasionally unstable.
Half of the old adage about never taking on a Tinker in his workshop was a reference to the last part. Even if you beat them, a Tinker didn't necessarily need a dedicated self-destruction system to take you down with them. And half the surrounding block.
Maybe more.
Yeah, the security had to be taken seriously.
At the Rig, the tinkering lab sat behind all kinds of surveillance, automatic turrets, and whatever additions Armsmaster had made to his lab's defenses. That wasn't even mentioning the Uppercrust-tech forcefield around the PHQ itself. Also, water. Lots of water.
Hard to breach, that's for sure.
The PRT HQ lacked the same level of defense installations, so it leaned into the bunker model instead. Anyone trying to steal Chris' stuff would have to breach first-floor security, then deal with however many Wards were on-site. Unless they were dealing with a full-on frontal assault from a team of A-listers, you'd need a high-tier Stranger to pull that off.
Even then, there was a fair chance of favorable power interactions on the Wards' side—like Vista noticing spatial disruptions, Dean detecting emotions, or Chris' own sensor picking up on something.
That was why Chris considered his lab the most secure room in the building, not the prison ward below. Sure, in an escape scenario, the Wards would be the still be the first responders, but that's only because their quarters were on the way out.
A theoretical Stranger would be able to make it through.
With Tanya and Shirou, the lab even has a dedicated night guard now, he thought, passing the row of doors leading to the bedrooms.
Funny thing—despite the Wards being relocated to the PRT HQ fairly recently, Chris was pretty sure their quarters weren't the latest addition to the building. That would be the prison ward.
The reason for this opinion was the almost one-to-one layout of the floors.
Sure, there were some changes, but Chris was convinced that the bedrooms had previously been holding cells and the lab served as the control room. He'd even gone downstairs once to confirm, after spotting remnants of what looked like an emergency release system behind the wall panels. And yeah, scans showed fresher excavation markers below than above.
Made sense, right? How else could a new facility be added if the prison ward had already been below ground floor? They'd simply dug deeper to expand.
Ah, whatever. Structural engineering isn't my thing anyway. Can't make mods for buildings, right?
Entering the main area and looking around, Chris immediately spotted Carlos and Dennis mid-match in Clash of Capes. Judging by Chevalier owning Alexandria's ass, the Ward leader was getting wrecked.
Not how it'd go IRL, of course.
The Philadelphia Protectorate leader was definitely cool, but not a Triumvirate level cool. Characters in game were balanced…ish. Being a shit player wouldn't magically improve just because you picked Eidolon.
Carlos was a casual and rotated through whatever Brute he felt like that week, but Dennis mained Chevalier.
Still sucked that the Wards weren't in the roster. Something-something, seeing their digital avatar going wild on adults would make the kids go crazy. Thanks to the Youth Guard, Chris couldn't even live out his fantasies on the screen.
Unfair, but at least there was still Hero.
Coming closer, he saw Dean out cold on the sofa, beside not-so-quite Carlos, and… Shirou sitting in the armchair?
Man, it was weird seeing him outside the kitchen.
Weirder still, the guy wasn't paying attention to the TV. Instead, he held a warped lump of finished steel in his hands, gaze locked on its surface as it shifted and flowed.
Wait. Was that Kanshou? The normally beautiful sword was almost unrecognizable, if not for the hexagon-patterned blade picking out of the misshapen mass of metal.
Chris was itching to ask, but Shirou was a prickly beast. Badgering him into doing something was easy, but to hold an actual conversation, you had to get past the thorns.
Which would make him a plant instead. An odious talking cactus that grew tinkertech instead of flowers and could uproot itself from the kitchen to kick your ass.
…Alright, weird metaphor, but no one ever called Chris a smooth operator. Thankfully, he had received some tips about holding a conversation.
Don't jump straight to business; lure them in with some small talk first. Preferably, lead with questions about them; that would make people more likely to answer. Everyone likes talking about what's important to them, after all. When the other party has already engaged and lowered their guard, you can start with what's important to you. It is much harder to brush someone off in the middle of the conversation than at the start.
"Ayo, Shirou. Chillin'?" he started nonchalantly, leaning his elbow on the back of the armchair, signaling his confidence.
From this vantage point, he could clearly see what Shirou was working on. As well as a spot of white hair near Shirou's temple, half-hidden by the red bangs.
The only response he got came from Dennis, who snorted without looking away from the screen.
Not letting that discourage him, Chris frantically reached for something else to say. "Kinda weird seeing you just relaxing. You're so busy, normally."
Still zero reaction.
"No work today?" he tried desperately.
That did it.
Shirou exhaled sharply and pressed fingers to his eyes. There were faint bruises under them. Had been there for a few days, actually. Was he not getting enough sleep?
"The majority of my clients are… inaccessible at the moment," he grumbled. "I find myself with precious little to do."
Yes! It's working! Thanks, Tanya.
"Cool." That was enough small talk. Shirou was hooked. "So what'cha doing?" Chris asked, leaning in.
"Just trying to realize an idle thought I've had for a while,"
He jerked his chin at the screen, which was no longer split between two players' perspectives. Dennis had just filled the energy bar and triggered the cinematic.
Chevalier hoisted the limp Alexandria high into the air at the tip of the cannonblade and was now repeatedly discharging his massive weapon, making the heroine bounce up and down helplessly.
Super Move.
The Triumvirate member's health bar dropped a full third.
Seeing that, Carlos growled and furiously jumped in his seat, shaking sleeping Dean in the process.
The empath didn't even twitch. Frankly, he looked dead.
Chris winced.
Without the servo-frame, Gallant's commissioned armor was heavy. Chris would know, since he'd built it. Not satisfied, Shirou had gone even further and thickened the plating.
Dean hadn't been out of shape, exactly, but he wasn't as ripped as Carlos either. In fact, with that kind of weight, Chris wouldn't have blamed their friend four outright refusing to wear Shirou's, ah, training equipment. It was easy to see how exhausting using it was, looking at just how spent Dean was these days.
Stansfields, it looked like, weren't quitters. Dean simply powered through each and every session without much complaint. He'd also stocked the cupboards with protein powder, as well as rows of supplement pills, each looking pricier than Chris' medication. Training required a lot of expensive fuel, it seemed.
The generous offer of sharing had never been stated out loud, but Chris knew he wasn't the only one who liked to pop a pill, or who's thermos wasn't filled with coffee these days.
That wasn't to say Chris wasn't partaking in both. Between coffee, chocolates and cans of protein taking up the kitchen space, he foresaw a clash between Dean and Shirou soon.
Maybe I should bring something from home too? Mom makes pretty great... Wait, no! That's not important right now! Focus!
"You are actually tinkering?!"
It was so crazy to see him do that! The guy was coached directly by his dad—as Chris had been, once—and naturally did all his work at the better facility.
He took in the sight. Looking closely, the metal almost looked like it was trying to form something vaguely mechanical.
"Are you trying to recreate Chevalier's cannonblade?" Chris asked excitedly, picking up on the clues.
It may not have been tinkertech, but that weapon was iconic!
"A gun-blade of some variety, at least," Shirou replied.
Heh, called it.
And yeah, squinting at it, Chris could see the outline of a firing mechanism trying to emerge. Still, what was the problem? Armsmaster's halberd alone was infinitely more complicated.
"Can't you just copy the cannonblade? I thought seeing a sword once was enough."
For a certain definition of a sword, anyway.
Shirou shook his head. "I'd have to see it in person. A 3D model, or even live footage, won't do it. Otherwise, I'd have it a long time ago."
"Oh? Big Chevalier fan?"
Who was his favorite hero anyway? Basic logic said it should be his dad, but that wasn't necessarily true. Brandish wasn't Vicky's favorite hero, for example. That would be Legend.
Plus, not everyone chose their favorites for the same reason. Narwal's fans had a bit of a reputation. Although, Chris couldn't imagine the redhead as part of the 'step on me, mommy' crowd.
The other redhead in the room, though...
"No," Shirou denied flatly. "Just saw him in a commercial once or twice."
Made sense. Chevalier had a ton of media presence, and he was one of the most popular heroes in the country. They put him in the weirdest places sometimes. To this day, it was still why the PRT didn't pick Armsmaster for that Wards promo about Tinkers.
"So what's the snag?" he asked. "A gun-blade sounds straightforward. Why're you doing it like this? Just fuse the sword with a regular gun and call it a day. We can probably get you one from the armory."
…Although whether Shirou would be allowed to use it was another matter.
Normally, Tinkers could get away with using guns, as long as it was their tech. Chris' own Spark Pistol and laser pistol being the prime example.
Firearms were a bit iffier. No one would be asking too many questions as long as it was tinkertech... But if it actually used bullets, the problem was more on the PRT's side. Public image, children with guns and all that. Stupid—but hey, so was not adding Wards to Clash of Capes.
"It isn't that simple," Shirou said. "If I do that, the result wouldn't be a gun-blade the way I need it to be."
The steel in his hands shifted again, teasing out the beginnings of a spring mechanism. He frowned before dissolving it.
"What do you mean?"
Perhaps it was talking shop, or perhaps frustration with his lack of progress, but Shirou actually answered.
"Despite what it may look like at a first glance, guns aren't in total conceptual opposition to swords," he started absentmindedly. "Unlike, say, spears or bows, both share an origin as dedicated weapons of war—born solely from the need to kill another human being. There's more nuance, of course, but the generalities are as such. However..."
He paused, as the metal in his hands shifted around once more.
"Historically speaking, what Crécy and Agincourt did to chivalry, Pavia and Nagashino did to the art of the sword. Well, martial arts in general. But given the symbolism in play..." he trailed off, "Suffice to say, the notion of guns being the death of sword arts imprinted firmly upon Humanity's Common Sense, making every gun carry the concept. Your American Civil War was arguably the last nail in that particular coffin. "That, along with a number of other factors, makes the two concepts—if not outright opposed—then fundamentally misaligned. Prone to friction."
That was less explaining, and more verbalizing the thought process, but Chris tried to follow as best he could. Shirou was almost never willing to talk shop, and it felt like the first time the answers didn't have to be dragged out of him.
Still, what the hell did a history lesson had to do with the matter at hand?
"But even if they were opposed, it merely makes thing more difficult. You could, for example, sidestep the issue by actualizing the opposing concepts through the shared origins of both Earth and Fire. My Element being Sword, however, complicates that approach, as it leans itself too strongly to one half of the equation. Simply Tracing guns isn't an issue by itself, but to record one inside the Unlimited Blade Works is difficult to say the least, and certainly not without a suitably strong medium. It all comes to balancing, you see. Using a sword as medium by simply fusing it with a gun wouldn't—"
By this point of his life, Chris was familiar with the sensation of losing the thread mid-explanation. Attention drifting, focus slipping, a new idea popping up. Then it was a desperate race to catch back up, before the other party realized you weren't listening.
But this? This wasn't it.
When Shirou had been explaining the Azoth Sword, Chris could at least follow the general outline. Dimensional layering, displacement and all that stuff. Basically, what Chevalier had done to his sword.
Now?
Chris' brain genuinely couldn't make heads or tails of what he was hearing. If Armsmaster delivered tightly-packed briefings about high-level tinkering, where Chris couldn't afford to miss one word, Shirou was speaking voodoo.
Elements? Tracing? Unlimited blade works?
What?
Chris desperately didn't want to admit he wasn't understanding and look stupid.
He didn't get the choice, though.
"Shirou," Dennis said without looking away from the screen. Alexandria was one hit away from losing the game, while Chevalier was clowning by canceling animations at the last moment. Chris would have given up by now, but Carlos was stubborn like that. "I can hear you losing Chris from here. The fact I can follow tells me it's more Dungeons & Dragons than Star Trek."
Shirou glanced at Chris, clearly debating whether continuing was worth the effort.
If anyone ever asked, this never happened—but in that moment Chris summoned every ounce of his acting ability to hit the younger boy with the full force of the puppy-dog stare.
It always worked on Mom and Dad. Never failed with Shirou either. Good thing, the visor was left at the lab.
With a resigned sigh, Shirou set the warped metal aside to show Chris his empty hand.
"Let me explain it using Lord El-Melloi II's patented method for explaining things to stupid redheads," he said grumpily.
Blue motes gathered in Shirou's palms, forming translucent outlines before solidifying into steel. Chris only noticed the transitional phase because one object lagged slightly behind the other.
Damn, should have brought the scanner.
"This," Shirou said, lifting the first object, "is a gun."
A stainless-steel Beretta with extended barrel and custom grip.
"And this," he added, brandishing a familiar black blade, "is a sword."
He pressed the two together. Metal flowed, fused, and reformed into a single hybrid.
"This is not a gun-blade. It is a gun fused with a sword."
He rotated the object for emphasis, the polished steel of the handgun visibly clashing with Kanshou's dark finish.
"That distinction matters for my power. If I want something that can be projected as cheaply and efficiently as a sword, it must have a single unified identity. Not a sword with a gun attached. Not a gun with an oversized bayonet. A sword that is also a gun."
Somehow, Chris understood very well what Shirou was trying to convey here.
"To accomplish that, the conceptual divide must be reconciled. I am attempting to bridge the gap by creating the gun myself—bringing both aspects under a single creator—while forming it from a sword. The goal is gradual convergence instead of forced grafting."
"Sooo, a dual-purpose tool designed from the ground up to have no primary function?" Chris asked.
"…Yes. A fairly apt description," Shirou admitted.
"Nice," Chris grinned, feeling encouraged. "So what's the hang-up? You don't look thrilled with it. Is it the firing mechanism? Because that's not what an action is supposed to look like. The hammer geometry's wrong, that's not a firing pin, and I don't see an ejector anywhere."
It did look like some kind of launcher, but had little resemblance to an actual gun.
The not-gun-sword vanished into a cloud of blue motes as Shirou picked up his unfinished prototype.
"It will not be a firearm in the conventional sense," he clarified. "The final design will rely on purely mechanical force to launch the projectile. No propellant."
"Like a nail gun? Those aren't that strong, you know."
"If the base mechanism generates sufficient force," Shirou explained, "Reinforcement can amplify it further."
Right, the glowy lines that made everything better. The older Danvers never used them on anything other than his body, so Chris kinda forgot it was actually a Striker power.
"The main issue I have, however, is that there's not enough material to work with."
Chris had to spend a few moments digesting that statement. The guy who could conjure material from thin air doesn't have enough material?
He nearly asked outright, then stopped himself. He'd already scored one insight tonight. Might as well see if he could piece this together on his own.
The one thing Chris got from all this mumbo-jumbo about concepts and identities, is that for some reason Shirou had to make the gun out of a sword for it to satisfy some arbitrary condition of his power.
Alright, but Kanshou was definitely heavier than a Beretta shown earlier...
Material composition?
When it came to sharing tech, Shirou was worse than his dad, who at the very least wasn't opposed to explaining basic principles. That didn't stop Chris from scanning Kanshou and Bakuya in an attempt to glean something useful. The scans hadn't explained the swords' magnetic properties, but their composition was readable.
And strange.
In vacuum, Wootz steel was an excellent choice for a blade. Great edge retention, high wear resistance. Pretty neat.
The thing was, why use it at all?
Modern alloys were simply superior. For example, the blade of Armsmaster's halberd was fabricated from a custom CPM 3V produced under perfect conditions with tinkertech tools by one of the best Tinkers in the world. The absolute peak you could get without sourcing from a dedicated metallurgy Tinker—of which there were currently none, and the closest equivalent had gone crazy years ago.
Chris did some research in on the subject recently.
Meanwhile, Kanshou wasn't simply Wootz, but also contained a shit-ton of impurities. There was copper, tin, chromium, manganese, vanadium, molybdenum, and silicon.
The first two had no reason being there at all. Bronze? Seriously?
The rest were all elements found in modern alloys, but present only in borderline trace amounts.
It honestly looked like Shirou was either throwing shit at the wall when designing the swords, or held industrial standards in total contempt, while simultaneously sourcing his metal straight from the ground in the form of ore.
From a particularly cursed spot.
It was all very strange, considering who his dad was. If seeing the AG-mod would give Armsmaster a heart attack, then the messy composition of Kanshou and Bakuya should have made the man strangle his son.
And no, all those metals together would not result in magnetic behavior.
That aside, though...
"Trying to build a gun out of Wootz is like building a boiler out of razor blades." Chris concluded. "Reinforcement increases the effective toughness, but the applied force scales too. That material stress—"
"Would exceed Wootz's structural limits," Shirou nodded.
Chris beamed.
"So that idea's shot," he said, mentally running through possible solutions. "Why not base it on a different blade? I mean, I'm not much of a blacksmith, but there's a bar or two of stainless steel in the lab. We can cook something up."
It was embarrassing to admit, but Chris was offering it so freely mostly because all the material could be reprocessed later. With his ability to copy stuff, his fellow redhead wouldn't need it.
"As a Noble—," Shirou started, before seemingly changing his mind. "Kanshou possesses a very strong identity, while being uniquely malleable. This is difficult enough as it is, and working with mundane blades would only make it worse," Shirou shook his head. "Besides, structural weakness of Wootz isn't that much of a problem. Adding and condensing more of the material would result in sturdier frame, and internals can be formed from chrome-moly steel."
Right, from the impurities. Looking closer, the parts Shirou was working on were shinier and lacked the distinct wave pattern of the Wootz steel.
"Wait, what do you mean 'adding more material'? You've just said there isn't enough!"
"I can add or subtract material, but there are limits. For one, I cannot change the base composition—so I can neither add what's not there to begin with nor completely remove something. Next, there are limits on the amount; usually it's four to six times in either direction. The issue here is that there is not enough chrome or molly to form all the critical parts."
But... the solution was so obvious!
"Well, can't you just add more sword?" Chris scratched his head.
"Single identity," Shirou stressed with an annoyed frown. "Your stainless-steel sword—"
"Would be a distinct object with its own identity that dilute Kanshou's. Grafting, convergence, whatever—I get it," Chris interrupted impatiently. "No, just fuse Kanshou with another Kanshou, then scale. That's up to twelve times more impurities with the same identity!"
Shirou turned to stare at him for a beat, then silently vanished the lump of metal in his hand to summon two identical hexagonal-patterned blades.
He didn't fuse them immediately. Steel whined and screeched at first, then violently expanded in all directions. The black blades grew several times, forming weird, feather-like protrusions on the back, sharp as broken glass. The normally beautiful blades no longer looked elegant and pristine; now, they exuded the air of coarseness and danger.
Not for long, because the owner pressed them together form another—bigger—lump of misshapen steel.
Shiny chrome pushed itself to the top in quantities larger than before.
"Right," he said, looking faintly embarrassed. "I would have thought about it. Eventually."
Dennis couldn't miss the opportunity.
"Well, well, well. Would you look at that?" he drawled with a shit-eating grin. "The circle is now complete. The master becomes the learner."
Shirou schooled his features, visibly fighting the urge to shoot back at their fellow redhead, before giving Chris an approving nod.
"Good job," he added with slight awkwardness.
Chris couldn't stop his lips from stretching into a wide grin. It was the first time another Tinker had acknowledged.
Today was officially a good day.
He opened his mouth to reply when a ringtone cut through the room. It was coming from Shirou's pocket.
"Hello?" Shirou answered. "Yes, Danvers Repairs… Yes, 'some things just require the right touch.' That's me… So do you," he shot back dryly. "Pricing depends on the job, but we pride ourselves on being affordable… No, it's just me… Look, do you have a job or not?"
He paused, brow creasing.
"That's fine, but is it under warranty?… Warranty," he repeated. "No, it's because it's new... Clean?" The usually unflappable guy grew more confused by the second.
"…What are you talking about?" he finally asked, looking completely lost.
He glanced at Chris, then at Dennis, Carlos, and Dean. "Yes... Yes, it's in the name... Extra? Yes, we provide a wide range of services concerning... What does it have to do with anything?"
After another pause, he sighed. "Yes, that's enough… Fine, give me the address… Uh-huh. No, that's not a problem, I'll be there. But if this is a prank—Hello?"
He lowered the phone slowly, looking like a man who had just been hung up on.
"…What was that?" Chris asked.
"I have a client," Shirou said, still staring at the screen. "I think."
He let the double Kanshou dissolve and stood. After dropping by his bedroom to grab a tool bag, the older Danvers left without another word.
…Sometimes Chris wondered if those tools ever saw any actual use. When fixing Dean's armor together, Shirou made an impression of someone very used to using his power for that kind of work.
He would never rat on a friend, but if his suspicions were correct, then Danvers Repairs might not have been entirely legal. Highly illegal, in fact—being in direct violation of NEPEA-5.
If there was one thing every Tinker in the U.S. knew—those outside the Elite, anyway—it was not to mess with the bill. There were ways to make money off of your power, but a Tinker offering commercial services even remotely connected to technology was...
Well, to casually do so while operating out of the PRT HQ was batshit. No way Shirou was doing that with a straight face.
The older Danvers was working with his hands, the old-fashioned way. No Tinker or Striker powers involved.
"Hey, Chris!" Dennis called, interrupting Chris' musings. "If you're done with the nerd talk, wanna go a few rounds? This is getting boring," he nodded at the TV.
"I'm not done yet," Carlos gritted, almost crushing another gamepad in a fir of gamer's rage.
A moment later, Chevalier finished Alexandria with a mocking jab.
Carlos jumped to his feet, looking ready to throw the gamepad at the screen and get them all in trouble again, before Dennis' touch casually put the Brute into time-out.
"So?" Dennis asked.
"Sounds good," Chris shrugged, walking to grab a spare gamepad.
Dennis was good with Chevalier, but Chris was no slouch on Hero.
***
A dozen or so rounds of Clash of Capes later, Chris found himself fighting his math homework instead of Chevalier, and weighing the merits of taking the medication when his Wards phone chimed with a notification.
Huh. A new member? Right now? That came out of nowhere, but then again, it wasn't like we had much warning before Tanya and Shirou joined either.
Chris wondered if the newcomer was a Tinker as well. That'd be neat. On the other hand, it would mean sharing the lab… though maybe also sharing materials.
Hmm.
The rest of the team started filtering in soon. Dennis was already there, gorging himself on chocolate. Carlos emerged from his room, while Dean had never moved from his place on the sofa at all, still asleep.
Tanya and Missy came in from outside. Sophia entered shortly after, covered in sweat and wearing her gym clothes—a sports bra and short shorts clinging tightly to her body. Drops trailed along her well-defined abs and the smooth, toned muscles of her long legs.
Don't be a creep, Chris. Stop perving on the mean girl.
Chris forced his eyes elsewhere—and immediately caught Dennis very much not forcing his own anywhere. Noticing Chris' reproachful look, the Striker shrugged unapologetically, as if saying that there was nothing wrong with admiring.
Sophia was indeed very hot. Her personality, on the other hand...
"Where are they?!" she demanded, furiously scanning the room with a snarl.
"If you mean the new recruit, they have not arrived yet," Tanya replied evenly, turning from checking her appearance in the mirror. "You may still have enough time for a quick shower and a change," her blue eyes trailed over Sophia's body.
For half a split second, Chris had to wonder if he was hallucinating, because he could've sworn there was something Dennis-like in the look Tanya was giving their teammate.
"Yeah," Missy shot flopping down beside Dean. "You stink."
"Fuck off—and fuck that," Sophia pointed at Missy and Tanya respectively. "I'm not putting in effort for a fucking Undersider. I'm only here to show them their place. Then it's back to the gym."
"Undersider?" Chris couldn't help but ask. The others echoed the same sentiment.
"Use your brain! Pugsley and Wednesday haul them in, then suddenly we get a new Ward? That reeks of a probation deal!" she spat. "Bet it's fucking Grue."
Dennis choked on his chocolate, barely managing not to spit it everywhere.
"Damn," Carlos muttered. "Stalker might be right."
"Are we really going to have to put up with a literal villain?" Missy asked miserably. "One Sophia is too much already."
"I was a vigilante, shrimp," Sophia growled, dropping on the armchair Shirou'd been occupying earlier.
"Doesn't make you any more pleasant," Missy shot back.
Before it could escalate further, Carlos stepped in. "Alright, people. Let's be professional. Suit up—I want everyone ready in five. Stalker, hit the showers."
"Fuck off, Aegis! I only put up with it last time because the Danverses might have been worth something. I'm not dolling up for Grue. Fucker's not worth the effort."
What exactly was her obsession with him? Grue this, Grue that. Is she angry the guy stole her whole shtick? Skulls, smoke, black leather.
"I mean," Dennis said, swallowing his food, "He might appreciate the view anyway," wiggling eyebrows at Sophia's lack of cover.
"Clock," Carlos gave him a warning look to go along with Sophia's middle finger, making the redhead hold his hands in mock surrender. "Stalker, we don't even know it's Grue. And in any case, we should make the best impression possible."
Tanya chimed in. "Actually, Carlos, Sophia might be onto something."
At his questioning look, she elaborated, "If you recall, my previous interaction with the Undersiders was far from amicable. Any attempt at a favorable first impression from our side would likely be wasted."
"You think they'll attack you?" Chris asked worriedly.
She hesitated. "I'd like to think they understand I was only fulfilling my responsibilities as a hero. That any consequences they have faced is the result of their own poor choices, and that holding a grudge against us is irrational. Teenagers, however, are not known for their rationality. Besides, we are speaking about the same group that decided to engage Lung in a prolonged fight," a note of disdain creeped into her voice. "I'm not holding my breath."
Sophia snorted dismissively. "Yeah, I'm still calling bullshit on that one. The Undersiders are pussies who always run from a fight. And, I'm not calling them smart or anything, but no one's that stupid."
"You'll be able to ask what they were thinking yourself," the diminutive girl shrugged. "Regardless, the PRT wouldn't place someone on the team if they were ready to attack us. Vetting exists for a reason."
Tanya brushed a strand of blonde hair aside.
"My concern lies elsewhere—passive aggression, insubordination, and in the worst case, career sabotage. Such behavior can be corrected over time, but in the short term it would damage cohesion, and create a negative work environment. Better to nip it in the bud."
Carlos nodded thoughtfully. "So what's the move?"
"Do you know why advertisements, are effective even if a person in question is aware they are being manipulated? Because awareness doesn't deactivate emotional response. Right now, that emotional response doesn't favor us, since the target audience—a former villain—is biased towards seeing the Wards through an adversarial lens. As such, meeting them in full uniform is tantamount to presenting the face of the enemy. But," she paused meaningfully, "as fellow teenagers? The first positively predisposed group of peers they meet after what is no doubt a week of antagonistic interactions with adult authority figures?"
Carlos nodded, "I think I get it. Think that'll work?"
"It certainly won't harm to try," Tanya shrugged. "At the very least it may reduce initial friction, and that's as far the good first impression goes in this case."
"Yeah, leader, listen to Argent. No need to strain your noodle," Sophia drawled mockingly.
"You'll find, Sophia, that one of the most valuable traits in a leader is the ability to recognize good ideas."
"Yours, obviously. You know all about leading people by their noses."
"If you demonstrated a degree of professionalism, Carlos might recognize yours as well," Tanya replied evenly. "The insubordination and passive aggression I referenced apply to you too."
"There's nothing passive about me, you two-faced bitch."
Tanya merely rolled her eyes and motioned faintly in Sophia's direction, as if presenting evidence.
Carlos pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alright. We'll try it. They'll know our IDs soon enough anyway."
"By, the way, Sophia," Tanya turned her head, "I expect you to play nice."
"The fuck?" she snarled from the armchair. "I'm not going to play nice with anyone, much less one of those losers!"
The blonde girl didn't respond. Calm blue eyes clashed with furious brown.
Chris shifted uncomfortably. It felt like standing between arctic blizzard and a firestorm. Tension kept rising, until...
"Tch," Sophia turned away, not promising anything.
Carlos let out a dejected sigh and went to approach the sofa. "Hey, Dean!"
Zero reaction.
"Hey, man, c'mon. Wake up." Carlos shook Dean's shoulder and gave his cheek a few light slaps. Missy nudged him from the opposite side.
Dean started snoring.
"Allow me," Tanya said, gently nudging Carlos aside before clearing her throat. "WAKE UP, SOLDIER!" she shouted, making Carlos recoil and causing Missy to topple from her seat.
Fuck! How can such a tiny girl be that loud!
Dean shot to his feet and immediately threw a punch at Carlos. The fist connected with such a force that the Brute had to levitate to avoid tumbling to the floor.
"Shit—sorry!" Dean blurted, wide-eyed. "You startled me!"
"Wasn't me," Carlos groused nasally, calmly resetting his nose with a quiet crunch. "Nice punch, though. Training's showing. Put on some muscles, too."
They were all a bit fitter these days. No one could know, but naked flexing in front of a mirror was Chris' go-to way to boost confidence.
"My apologies, Carlos," Tanya added, prompting Dean to finally register her presence. "I did not anticipate such violent reaction."
"It's fine," Carlos shrugged.
Dean groaned and dropped back onto the sofa. "Why'd you have to wake me up? I was dreaming about not training."
"It's just growing pains, Dean. Your body will adjust to training without the crutch of artificial musculature," Tanya replied, earning herself a dirty look.
In Chris' opinion that wasn't really fair. The training armor was Shirou's idea.
"But as to why I interrupted your sleep, we are getting a new member."
"Stalker thinks it's one of the Undersiders," Missy said unhappily, climbing back onto the sofa.
Dean stared at their little Shaker with bloodshot eyes before slowly shifting his gaze to Tanya.
"…The Undersiders," he said pointedly.
"Yes," she nodded.
"On this team."
Tanya tilted her head cutely. "Yes?"
"The same Undersiders," Dean licked his lips, "whom you, by your own admission, shot and electrocuted."
"Tazed."
Dean reached past Missy and grabbed a pillow, causing the young girl to blush at the proximity—until Dean buried his face in it and let out a muffled scream.
"…Are you alright?" Missy asked quietly, after a beat of silence. The same concern was written on everyone else's faces. Except Sophia, who didn't do concern.
"Yes," Dean said in a strained voice, standing. "I need to brush my teeth."
Sophia rolled her eyes in disgust.
"While you are up," Tanya called, "would you wake my brother? Miss Militia could be here any minute."
Her brother? It was only now that Chris realized that Shirou wasn't back yet.
"Oh, um, we were tinkering. I helped!" he scrambled to explain. "But then he got a call and left for a job. He's not here."
Tanya frowned, pulled out her phone, picked a contact and waited for a reply.
"Hello, brother. Where—who was that? ...Well, can you get some privacy? …No, the topic I want to discuss concerns our employer."
She listened for a moment before sighing. "Fine. Did you not receive the notification? …Yes, that one. WHAT?!"
Her nostrils flared. She shot the others a warning look and made a sharp sequence of hand signals—Threat and Keep Quiet. The PRT didn't have a dedicated sign for unmasking, but the context was obvious. She tapped the screen and set the phone on the table.
"You're on speaker as well. Everyone's here, waiting for you," she said, annoyance dripping from her voice. "Why don't you say that again?"
Ah, the 'share it with the class' method. Classic.
"I'd rather not repeat myself, sister," Shirou replied dryly, his voice coming from the phone over what sounded like furious scrubbing.
Tanya threw her hands up. "He received the notification and promptly ignored it!"
"One thing I've learned over the course of my life, is that when you are already late, there's no longer any reason to hurry," Shirou answered, scrubbing growing more aggressive.
"That's not how it works! If you move right now, you may still—", Tanya hissed like a tea kettle, before being interrupted by a new voice.
"Listen, girl, I feel you. Brothers, amirite? Buuuut I'm paying cash here, and there's no way I'm finishing by myself. I'm already unsatisfied," a girl's voice chimed in, oddly lingering on the last word.
"Excuse me?" Tanya blinked.
"Yeah," the girl huffed. "Do you have any idea what Mr. Clean makes me do over here? I'm not an expert or anything, but I'm pretty sure the paying party gets to lay back and relax, not bust their ass."
The voice sounded young and upbeat. About Shirou and Missy's age.
"I can't do all the work here if you want this finished today," Shirou chided. "You're getting extra for free as it is, so stop complaining."
"Free?" Tanya asked dangerously. "Are you up for another audit, brother? We've already had this conversation the last time I went over your financials."
"A referral bonus."
"Referral bonuses go to the referrer, brother—not the client."
"Look, what do you want me to do here? There haven't been any uptick in jobs since I've started giving out business cards, and this is the first time someone came in that way. I figured some kind of referral system with bonuses is in order. Call it a first-time discount."
"Still waiting on that first time here," the girl snorted. Before Tanya could respond, there was loud cluttering, rustling, Shirou cursing, and what sounded like someone tumbling to the floor. "Motherfucker! It's all over me now!"
"At least you are not wet," Shirou's voice was dry as a desert.
"Fucking right about that," the girl bit out.
"Shirou, what's going on there?" Tanya asked.
"Your name's Shirou? You look Irish."
"Nothing, I can't handle," he brushed it off. "Although, I must say, it's a difficult case. And not just because someone has potty mouth," he said pointedly.
"Eat me!" came a cheerful reply.
"Can you stop, please? My sister is nine, and such language is..."
"Nine?! She sounds thirty!"
Shirou groaned. "Right. Anyway, I can't just leave, sister. You can't see it, but it's an absolute disaster here," he said, sounding vaguely horrified. "I haven't seen such filth since I don't even know when, which I don't think you can adequately appreciate. I'm currently brushing up on biohazard disposal."
"What do you mean, 'biohazard'?"
"…Alright, serious talk. Your sis knows you're an actual handyman, right? Like, legit?"
"Yes? Why wouldn't she?"
"Cool. Don't need rumors spreading."
Judging by the pulsing vein on Tanya's forehead, they were moments away from eruption.
The blond drew in a slow breath.
"Shirou. I understand this situation is inconvenient. Small businesses live and die on their reputation. However, any reputational damage is negligible compared to your contractual obligations to our employer. Even with your protection, appearing as anything less than—"
"I'm sorry, sister. All I've heard is that reputation is important. I believe signal's fading."
"Shirou," Tanya said with deadly calm. "I called your work phone. Those don't lose signal."
"Whoosh-whoosh. Entering the tunnel now."
"I wish!" the other girl cackled.
"WHAT FUCKING TUNNEL?! I CAN HEAR YOU BLOWING INTO THE—!"
The line went dead.
Chris looked around nervously.
At the kitchen table, Dennis buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking violently. Missy was frowning. Carlos stared straight ahead, his expression carved from stone. Meanwhile, Sophia looked absolutely radiant, savoring every second of the young girl's conniption.
"My apologies, Carlos," Tanya said, not looking at anyone. "It would seem my brother won't be joining us in time."
"It's… fine," Carlos croaked, voice fraying at the edges.
"I sincerely regret his conduct. I will prepare a list of appropriate disciplinary responses once we conclude the introduction of our new teammate."
"I—hrrgh—understand."
Carlos' bulging eyes started watering, and Dennis' whole body shook with such intensity, you'd think the guy was lamenting an unspeakable tragedy.
Sophia looked ecstatic. Chris had never seen her in a better mood.
"…Who was that hus—" Missy began, only to be cut off as the front doors opened.
Miss Militia entered the living room, followed by a girl.
Probably said something unflattering about him, but the first thing Chris registered was the killer figure.
Tall. Lithe. Long-legged. Most of her body was hidden by dark armor plating, but the black bodysuit framed the gentle swell of her hips, drawing attention to her thighs.
The face was concealed behind a featureless black mask with gleaming yellow lenses, framed by a raven mane of dishevel hair.
She followed Miss Militia in—then halted as if she'd hit an invisible wall.
The girl stared.
Chris' world became bugs.
A/N
If you want to read 4 chapters ahead or support me visit my p.a.t.r.e.o.n.c.o.m / kirunax