Time to greet the guy.
Trainwreck.
Up close, he looked like someone halfway between a scrapyard and a soldier. His mechanical grafts were crude but functional armour plating bolted directly into flesh, a mess of mismatched parts. At least that part checks out.
"Vitals remain stable," she reported in that smooth, neutral voice of hers. "Subject displays no hostile intent. He has consumed both nutrient rations provided."
"Hmm," I muttered, leaning against the control console. "Last thing I need is him trying to eat the walls." Even if those MREs are nutritional, they taste like Ass. I dont know which is worse, to be subjected to eating that...or ya know. Just die. "Now that I think about it, can he even eat those walls?" I mean, in theory, his powers could probably assimilate neosteel forcefully.
Monica paused for a half-second, the AI equivalent of a raised eyebrow as she thought of what I just said, "That would be highly inefficient, Commander."
I cracked a grin. "You'd be surprised what people do when they're bored."
The humour faded as my mind circled back to who he works for, Coil. A thinker, tactician, maybe even ex-military. A man who could simulate possibilities and move pieces on the board before anyone else even knew they were in play. That kind of power wasn't something I could ignore.
If Trainwreck was working for him, then Coil already had his fingers deep in Brockton Bay.
"Monica," I said finally, "how much do you know about Coil in this world?"
Her voice came through clear, steady, with that faint artificial edge. "Insufficient data. Local networks reference 'Coil' as an alias associated with various underground financial and paramilitary activities. No public records or confirmed sightings."
"Figures," I sighed. "Can you dig deeper? Use your access protocols and scrape every connected node, backtrack digital shell companies, data leaks, whatever's out there."
A soft chime. "Warning: local network infrastructure is primitive compared to UED standards. Data fragmentation and encryption are inconsistent. However…" she paused, and the holo-screen flickered as she began sifting through layers of digital noise. "…this task is within acceptable parameters."
Ahh...Terran Supremacy. Just the way I like it. They keep saying Terrans are OP and need a nerf. Frankly? They are right. Blizzard is are morons. That's why South Koreans love Terrans; they are just better at everything. Dropship tactics? Siege rush? love it. Drop all those Thor. Kaiju Mecha strategy were my favourite. Zerg rush? Thor rush suckers.
Siege Tanks for days against Immortals. Silly European Players. Immortals aint worth shit if the only one unit in the Terran backline is their most used and most effective strategy. I love the Terrans. We Op Motherfuckers.
Lorewise? Eh...debatable, like I mean, Cowboys in space, what's not to like? Why would you ever consider joining alien scum? Oh..wow, I sound like one of those crack warhammer that keep shouting heretic at everything.
I leaned forward, watching as green lines of Terran code merged with the crude, clunky structure of the Earth's internet. It was like watching a shark swim through a lake full of minnows, beautiful. It's hard to explain unless you live and breathe Terran tech. C+ looks so backwatered compared to this beautiful language.
"Begin analysis," I ordered.
The screen is filled with lines of data. Bank transfers. Shell accounts. Police reports. Even chatter from encrypted message boards. Monica's voice kept pace with the scrolling information.
"Coil maintains at least three major financial fronts," she reported. "One registered as an import-export company in Boston, one construction contractor linked to city redevelopment projects, and one… charitable fund directed toward law enforcement pensions."
I raised an eyebrow. "That last one sounds like a bribe."
"Probable," she confirmed. "Additionally, encrypted chatter from local mercenary networks implies recruitment drives under anonymous employers offering hazard pay. Keywords: 'discretion,' 'containment,' and 'parallel operations.'"
"Parallel operations?" I repeated. "You know what? I might have an Idea about that" Must be one of his time-splitting shenanigans.
"As you are Commander," Monica replied. "Cross-referencing context suggests simultaneous event simulation as possibly tied to a parahuman ability involving temporal or probability manipulation."
I frowned, crossing my arms. "Great. Dude even names his files that way. He's that confident, isnt he? I would love to deck this asshole in the face just out of spite"
Monica's tone remained calm. "Commander, would you like a tactical evaluation?"
"Hit me."
"Engaging Coil directly would present a 79.4% probability of mission failure, given current resources. However, his influence depends on secrecy. Information disruption, infiltration, and asset redirection could destabilise his operations without direct confrontation."
"In other words," I said, smirking slightly, "hit him where it hurts, but don't let him see the hand that's doing it."
"Affirmative."
I rubbed my chin. The Command Centre hummed softly around me, a living machine, a fortress of steel and code. Somewhere out there, a man named Thomas Calvert was running simulations, planning the next move, thinking he had the city in his grip. But what if someone built something he couldn't predict?
"Monica," I said, "start mapping all known ABB, Empire, and Merchant territories. Cross-reference with industrial zones, power grids, and unused freight routes."
"Understood. Shall I designate an objective name?"
I smiled faintly, looking at the blinking Terran insignia on the console.
"Yeah," I said. "Call it Operation Ghost Protocol. We'll make Coil think the city itself is turning against him."
"Processing," she replied. "Operation Ghost Protocol initialised. Projected outcome: controlled chaos within the target infrastructure. Estimated success probability: 64.2% with current assets."
"Good enough," I said. "We'll raise that number later on. I want a no-win situation while we shape the board. We have the time while he is still unaware of things."
"Affirmative, I will begin compiling a multi-pronged strategy using available Terran doctrines and unit capabilities. Objective: neutralise Coil's operational freedom and force a decision state with no clearly dominant timeline. Probability of success increases with redundancy, information denial, and unpredictability."
I nodded and said," Right, we can refine it once the necessary units and tech are available to us"
And with that, I went to meet Trainwreck at the Supply Depot.
.....
He lifted his head when he heard my footsteps approaching.
One of his eyes locked onto me, narrowed in suspicion as I entered into beating-to-a-pulp distance. The man is a walking Tank. Afraid? Maybe. I doubt any talking shit would work here since I dont have any experience with talking to a superpowered villain. But caring? That I can do. All I need to do is just care.
And caring is a gamble right now..
"... You're the guy with the machines?" His voice was rough, like gravel ground through metal. I wonder if he even needs to develop his own vocal chords as a Case 53. He looked at both of his nonexistent arms and shrug 'You blew away my arms, numbnuts"
"Yeah fuck you too, Spare parts," I said, stopping just short of him. "Name's uhh...scratch it, I go by the name of Dreamhack temporarily."
He snorted. "Cute name. What are you supposed to be? Some kind of Tinker contractor?"
"Something like that," I replied. "I prefer 'Commander.' Has a better ring to it. Cape names don't really do it for me."
That earned a dry laugh that turned into a cough. "You don't look like a warlord."
"I'm a builder first and foremost. I could be a warlord if I wanted to." I corrected. "Warlords destroy. Builders make sure there's something left standing after. The latter doesn't have a nice ring to it."
He studied me for a second with that chopshop mechanical eye of his, flickering faintly blue, probably scanning me for weapons or tech. I let him. I wasn't armed with anything visible anyway, except the Neosteel armour. Curiously, I wanted to know if his sensors can even scan Neosteel. But in all honesty?
I didn't need to be. Monica, my adjutant AI, was watching through every camera and sensor in the depot. If Trainwreck made one wrong move, the SCVs would pin him down faster than he could blink. And I still have the Turret inside the Cabin to activate automatically if it detects any danger.
"Look," he said finally, "if you're here to turn me in, just say it. Not in the mood for speeches."
"I'm not turning you in," I said. "I'm offering you a deal."
That made him pause.
I crouched down to meet his gaze. "You've got skills. I've scanned your work before I came here, all those modular implants, kinetic dampeners, your power core reconfigurations. You've got a lot of potential under all that piston and junk. You're just… applying it in the wrong way."
Trainwreck barked a short, bitter laugh. "You think I like being like this? What gave you the impression? You think this…" he flexed a metal arm, the gears grinding audibly "-is what I wanted?"
"Then change it," I said simply. "Work with me."
He blinked. "You? What, you're building an army? Your fancy tech can help? heh-maybe give me a new arm"
I shrugged. "Sure, let's go with that. I'm building an army, Free arms, free homes and weapons for everyone. Call me a communist, I dont care. Free stuff. Errbody likes free stuff, right? Wait no..Not a communist. I'm a Philanthropist. Communism hates free stuff, just equal suffering."
His expression flickered confusion, then curiosity, then disbelief. "You serious?"
"Dead serious." I stood, pacing slowly as I spoke. "I've got a Command Centre coming online. Automated refineries, drone manufacturing, fabrication labs. It's growing fast but not fast enough, at least not to the pace I'm used to. I need people who can handle the hardware. I need muscle too."
Trainwreck scoffed. "You talk like some kind of sci-fi cult leader."
"Maybe I am? The cult of the glorious Terran faction! Free CMC Bodies for everyone! You get a power armour if you join right now!" a confused Trainwrecked Pikachu's surprised face. Oh dear, that is kinda funny, try not to laugh.
I ignore that face and continue with my speech. "Take a chance on me, will ya?. The people around me, if they decided to join my scrap empire, they'll eat, they'll have protection, they'll have purpose. No more dying in alleys for some crime boss or to some Nazi numbnuts or asian supremacist, or die in a ditch somewhere due to a drug overdose."
He looked down to the side at the MRE, the mismatched metal stump flexing slightly without limbs. For a moment, I saw something like hesitation and a tiny murmur saying-
"free power armour? The guy is out of his rocker! And if he feeds me that MRE, I'm gonna kill myself!"
Oi…I resent that.
Then he grunted. "What's the catch?"
I smiled faintly. " You follow my command protocols. You don't touch the AI, the reactors, or my SCVs without permission. You help me build and act as my advertisement, be the man on the street. My bodyguard, maybe?"
"And if I say no?"
I nodded to one of the SCVs. The machine's welder arm flared, spitting blue light against the steel floor. "Then I leave you here until you cool off and suffer the wrath of terrible MRE or look above you and then... turn to your left."
Trainwreck went quiet. He turned to look at what I was hinting at above him was a giant turret with twin Gatlings aimed at him, and then turned to the left., A box full of MRE Terran grade MREs… The hiss of his implants filled the silence. Then slowly, he smirked.
"You're one cold bastard, Commander."
"Yes, yes..bad MRE very scary taste.." certainly not the turrets, oh noes. Those aren't scary at all.
He chuckled under his breath, then nodded once. "Alright. How does this work exactly?"
Behind me, Monica's voice crackled softly through the depot speakers.
"Commander, integration protocol ready. Would you like me to assign Mr Trainwreck to Engineering Bay oversight?"
"On Probation, please, first..let's us have a look at you. fix your arm. Maybe even fix whatever problem with you. You dont have any cancer, do you?", I said, still watching Trainwreck's mismatched grin. "Let's see what he can do. Can we fashion a set of Marauder armour for the big guy?"
Monica's holographic projection flickered beside the 3D topographical map of the trainyard. A clean, blue-white interface, all lines and grids, very Terran, I suppose.
"Commander," she began, "construction of the Barracks is pending. Estimated completion time: six hours with four SCVs assigned. Current Steel conversion reserves: 1,947 units. Insufficient timeline construction."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Yeah, I figured as much. Eh, we can wait while I scan him at the medbay"
Even in a place like Brockton Bay, logistics were still logistics. Not enough resources meant no expansion, no upgrades, no production. The universe didn't care whether you were in the Koprulu sector or Earth; energy, material, and manpower still ruled, no matter which part of the multiverse I live in.
Trainwreck, sitting on a reinforced bench across the control deck, scratched at the junction where his left arm met steel plating. "So that's the A.I? You didn't mention it's a she."
"Yeah, no flirting too, I hope you can keep a secret about this?" I said. "We need a Barracks first. You can't build a Tech Lab out of nowhere; it integrates with the Barracks' systems. Think of it like... a modular extension. One thing feeds into another."
He gave a low whistle. "That's some serious infrastructure dependency you've got there."
"It's a basic military standard," I said, smiling faintly. "Every upgrade, every structure, every unit, it's all chains together. Keeps things orderly. Scalable."
He chuckled. "Sounds like a pain in the ass. Can't just build anything you want, huh?"
"Oh, it is a pain in the ass, I agree, but that's just like most Tinkers do, dont they? Just like you can't just build a death machine or a working Sunday Machine," I said. "But it also means no one can fake it. No shortcuts. Everything we build, we earn it fair and square."
Trainwreck grunted and nodded, "That's true. I can't make mine look nicer either. It's always just scraps and horrible massive hunks of metal for me"
I just grinned and said, "Eh, dont sweat it, Tinkers together strong! I'll work your aesthetics and pad it up, you can modify it to your specification to your heart's content later"
Monica's voice hummed through the deck speakers, serene as ever.
"Four SCVs have completed underground water gas collection in Zone C. Refinery 60% complete. Estimated yield: five hundred additional Butane/Vespene conversion units per hour. Would you like to reassign them to construction?"
"Do it," I said. "Priority to Barracks foundation. Reinforced composite frame, sound insulation, and interior combat-sim bay, if we have the material to do that? Nuke-resistant worthy, I want it reinforced with proper Neosteel."
"Acknowledged."
"Once that is done, proceed to upgrade the Command Centre into a Planetary Fortress as soon as possible"
"Acknowledged."
Through the viewport, I could already see the SCVs moving small, tanky drones gliding over the uneven ground on anti-grav thrusters, including that one odd SCV made with Mengks' colours. Their welding torches flared as the first skeletal frame of the Barracks began to rise against the night skyline, sparks lighting up the dark like fireflies.
Trainwreck stood beside me, arms folded. "I'll be damn, those little mech things work fast. How do they do that?"
I smirked. "Sheer Terran Ingenuity!"
He laughed quietly. "You're either a genius or a madman, so why do you keep referring to yourself as Terran?"
"Because I called it that way, got a problem with it?"
Trainwreck didn't have an answer to that and just kept watching the Barracks take shape. Monica's hologram reappeared, showing an updated schematic: Command Centre, two Supply Depots, one Refinery, and now a new structure rising from the dirt.
"Commander, projected timeline for Tech Lab attachment. You may wish to consider supplemental extraction of Metal to Mineral conversion to expedite reactor component fabrication."
I nodded. "Make it happen, Monica"
Trainwreck raised an eyebrow. "What's a Marauder armour?"
"Basically, the granddaddy of all Heavy Armour. Anyone riding one of those is equivalent to a human tank. If I gave you one, I'm sure your powers will find it quite interesting to tinker with."
He smirked, flexing his mechanical arm. "Awfully trusting of someone you just met"
I grinned. "I'm confident enough with the tech, betray me? And all you get is a steel coffin with your death warrant in it."
Down here, though, it was quiet. I should probably handle the elephant in the room no pun intended. While medbay scanned him over It gives me a chance to talk about a certain villain I'm more interested in.
The kind of quiet here could make anyone listen to their heartbeat, hopefully quiet enough to listen to their heart too and make the right decision.
A single work light cast a white circle around him, making the rest of the room look darker than it really was. His cybernetic arm twitched occasionally, the servos clicking like nervous ticks as I mull things over on how to broach the subject.
I leaned against a workbench, arms folded.
"Alright, Trainwreck. Let's talk."
He looked up, tired but defiant. "You gonna keep calling me that? Is that what they're calling me out there?"
"You're mostly here at the Trainyard, and you look like you've been in a train wreck. The name fits," I said, "Not to mention, you tried breaking into my base. You got guts. Dumb guts, but still."
He gave a half-laugh. "Wasn't my idea."
"Yeah," I said. "That's what I figured."
He raised an eyebrow. "You figured what?"
I straightened up, moving closer. "You're working for Coil, right?"
That made him freeze. The little flicker of surprise in his eyes told me everything before he even opened his mouth.
He masked it quickly, though. "Never heard of him."
"Don't lie to me." My tone stayed even, quiet. But the way his jaw tensed told me he heard the edge underneath to know I mean serious business. Serious enough that we might get killed by random snipers if we go out and treat this like a nothing burger.
"You're too well-equipped for a solo scavenger. Cybernetics that are high-grade don't come from garage tech. Scrap tech can only get so far without the right materials. Take these things around here, for example, its made from Neosteel.
Bet you could do a lot with that sort of steel, but acquisition is one thing, and no matter how you scrap,e you won't find a better material like this anywhere on the planet. The same goes for some of your modifications. You've got funding, and only a handful of people in this city can afford to fund someone like you."
Trainwreck looked away. "You yapped a lot, you know that? You some kind of Thinker?"
I smirked. "Nah, just smarter than your average Broctonians. Don't have an ounce of Thinker power in me. I have information from a Thinker that goes by the name Wildbow. Let's call it that."
Monica's voice echoed softly from the speakers.
"Commander, if I may, our records match his cybernetic schematics to a classified set of paramilitary augmentations last seen in a PRT leak two years ago..."
I watched him carefully as she spoke. He didn't flinch that time. Just sighed long, low, defeated like a kid getting found out during a game of hide and seek.
"Yeah. Fine. You got me. I do jobs for Coil."
"Why?"
He shrugged his heavy shoulder. "Money. Gear. Parts. You think a full metal arm comes cheap?"He grunted with no arms after I blasted those away; if he had arms, he would probably tap his. "Coil doesn't care who I was. Doesn't ask questions. I get to build, I get to fight, and I get to live another day. That's it. When I got here, I barely came with a proper body. It took a while for me to scrounge up enough material to build myself one"
"I see, so he took you in, got you set up, and you stayed under the radar," I said quietly. "You're a builder. You're creative. You want to make things, not destroy them right? You gotta admit that a guy like that? He's just using you."
Trainwreck's jaw clenched. "You don't know a damn thing about me."
"Maybe," I said. "But a snake like Coil?. He doesn't keep assets. He burns them when they stop being useful. You think you're an exception? You're not. You're a prototype in a scrapyard waiting for someone else's blueprint. I know a lot, but there are still some missing pieces, of course. The thinker who told me? Didn't tell me everything. It's like certain knowledge is accessible and some aren't, depending on the time and place."
That one hit. He didn't say anything, just stared down at the floor.
After a long moment, he muttered, "What do you want from me? And what? Working for you is better?"
I exhaled slowly. "I want you to help me build something better. I meant what I said before, I wanna build stuff for people like us to benefit, not for anyone else. For us. You and me. People who can actually make a difference in this city without being tied to some lunatic's leash. Think about it, Powers want to be used right? Why not use it for good?"
He scoffed. "You say that like we're heroes. You better not be some PRT lapdog."
I scoffed at that notion. Me, a cop? Not in this lifetime."I'm an opportunist," I said simply. "And I don't expect you to be. But we can be something else. Call it... independent operators, someone like Faultline and how she operates"
He stared at me for a long moment at me like I was some batshit crazy asian. I am asian, but not batshit crazy. Then, to my surprise, he laughed with a hearty chortle. "You're either a dreamer or a maniac."
"Yeah, I am a dreamer," I said, smiling faintly.
huh…maybe the name Dreamhack isnt so bad after all, but it's still pretty cringeworthy to me, especially in a world like this. If only you knew, my dear blobby friend, this world is so many levels of messed up, you gotta be insane or borderline one to dream of a better future if you even think of changing things. "You wouldn't be the first to say that."
The silence stretched again, but I wasn't the hostile party anymore. I'd like to think that the man is actually a fairly reasonable person if it weren't for his powers egging him to keep on modifying his own body. Gotta find a way to shut it down or dampen it. 53 triggers aren't exactly subtle; they are broken.
Finally, he said, "Alright, Commander. I'll think about it. But if Coil comes looking…uhh. This place isnt exactly subtle."
I thought for a moment. I knew once the Command Centre is built, all eyes are gonna look here.
"Yeah, all eyes are gonna come looking towards here, especially once this Centre is up"
"So..about my arm?" He asked.
"Just lie down in the medbay, I already fabricated replacement arms and working servos for you, it should work in an hour or so."
Just in time, the rest of the SCV is done, and I send them to gather more materials and Iron for my Command Centre. I build more SCVs until I have about 24, 20 for scrap and 4 for the refinery to gather within the underwater geyser until it completes the underground pipeline towards the Command Centre as I control the floating UI panel via holographic technology.
Terran tech sure is wonderful.
"We have intruders, Commander" alerted Monica.
I didn't plan on starting my evenings with a skirmish, but the universe had opinions. I was doing a routine sweep around the trainyard perimeter when Monica pinged me:
"SCV-3 reporting visual contact: six unidentified hostiles approaching east gate."
Translation: ABB mooks wandered too close to my damn base.
Perfect.
Exactly what I needed to mop up some gangsters poking around my military-grade space fortress like it was a yard sale. What better way to showcase my commanding skills than by using a bunch of SCVs in a little skirmish? Just a little test run to see if my skills arent rusty, some things stay the same, but commanding in real time with limited units will be a challenge. It's gonna put my Micro skills to test, and without a keyboard and mouse so this will be very interesting.
"Wanna watch something Interesting, Mr.T? "
Trainwreck was still lying down on the medbay, yawned and said, "Sure thing, boss. What's up?" I send him a Holovid of intruders from outside of the Perimeter; they haven't entered due to the turrets I have set up. ABB were wary of all the SCVs around. They were armed, holding poor AKs and ASU assault Rifles on the backline, but the rest of them? Yeah…, those aren't gonna dent my SCVs at all.
And sure enough: six ABB idiots, red bandanas, baseball bats, and exactly one guy who thought a butterfly knife made him a threat. They were trying to pry open a sheet-metal crate like raccoons.
Trainwreck laughed at those mooks, "Oh fuck, poor assholes are gonna get wrecked, just a baseball bat? Hey boss, are you gonna kill 'em?"
"If stupidity kills, it ain't my fault, I'll try to limit the damage" I grin maliciously as I think of different way to troll these mooks.
"Yo," one of them said when he noticed one of the SCVs reaching closer, "this area is ABB property, man. You live here?"
"Yeah," I said, dropping my speak on from the SCV The HUD flickered to life. "I'm the landlord. Rent's due, so pay up. Ask your boss to do it.."
They laughed. Oh, they laughed at me. ABB got jokes, huh? I ain't seen no punchline yet.. Then SCV-1 rolled out from behind the depot with that cheerful doot-dee-doot idle hum that should strike fear into the hearts of mortals.
ABB Guy: "Hey fuck! Back off! W-what are you trying to do?"
Me: "Buddy. You have no idea."
"SCV protocol: Defence assist active," SCV-1 chirped.
SCV-2 and SCV-3 came rumbling in from the side like the world's deadliest construction crew. I didn't even give commands. It's just the auto subroutine for the SCVs
"Alright, boys," I muttered, "Terran tactics. SCV rush them."
SCV-3 charged first while its welding arm sparked to life. It swung like a baseball bat made of plasma torch.
The first ABB mook got swept off his feet, hit the dirt, and screamed something in Korean I'm fairly sure was "Gae-sae-kki-AHHHH!!
I sprinted in, using the exoskeletal servos of the neosteel suit to close the distance. P220 in one hand, safety on; I wasn't trying to shoot anyone today.
"Mee-chin-nom?! Dak-chyeo!" (Crazy bastard!?! Shut the hell up!)
Bam!
SCV-2 rammed another guy full-speed, knocking him into a stack of pallets. Guy went down like a bowling pin. One of the idiots tried to swing at the SCV and got rebounded, hitting his own head. From the Camera, SCV-1 was chasing two fleeing mooks in slow, determined pursuit with the Plasma Claw, the most threatening five miles per hour lumber I'd ever seen.
Then they started shooting, but the bullets just pinged away. SCV2 kept SCV1 repaired as they kept shooting towards SCV, as he acts as a shield. The despair is getting noticeable among the ABB mooks.
"Return!" I called out.
SCV-1 immediately abandoned the chase and rolled back to me, humming cheerfully like it didn't just commit a huge embarrassment for the ABB. One of them even said
"We won't forget this! Oni Lee and Lung will hear about this!"
What the fuck is this? Saturday night cartoon? Anime? Do people even talk that way anymore? I turned on the intercom and replied
"Sure, tell them that you weren't able to 'educate me." I bet you get a bomb in the face, or maybe get tortured on the spot. I mean, it's your funeral, be my guest. Send my regards to the Dragon of Kyushu for me, just say "Ham Ka chan, Lei machao hai, Kuso-Nihon-no Ryu, Chibi-doragon- oh, and go fornicate yourself, you shitty Lizard, gotta add some English too"
The surprised, dumbfounded look on ABB's face?
Priceless.
Everything else there's Mastercard.
They ran like the fucking mooks they are. Even those with the guns were scrambling away, trying to outrun those with dented baseball bats and empty hands holding their ass and burn spots after getting zapped by the SCVs.
"How did it go, boss?" Trainwreck asked, and I just shrugged it off like it didn't matter, a little too weak for my current power level.
"Weak, we could probably overtake the ABB and put Lung on the back foot" Honestly, that was very disappointing. Were SCVs this strong in-game? I think I might have underestimated myself at what I perceive as the power level of my units, the power of my working-class units with Neosteel armour plating of course.
These mini mechs are awesome at combating mooks. SCV1 even fought Trainwreck to a standstill to but then again, I always thought it was due to the element of surprise. Now I shudder to think what a marine will do. Perhaps they aren't truly Marines in the real sense, but more like Astartes when fighting against the ordinary.
Either way-
I'd built a lot of things these past few days a gun, lots and lots of bombs, armour, a little dragonfly spy, and foot warmers (don't judge me). Hell, I've finally built my own Command Centre after a whole week.
But fabricating a new set of arms for an eight-foot rage-mutated cyborg bruiser? Eh, the blueprints from the UED are fine, but they lack something.
That was a first for me.
Something to think about, Terran, when it comes to civilian use. There's not a whole lot of options for ordinary folk stuff.
Trainwreck sat on a reinforced chair in the maintenance bay, looking like a scrapyard statue someone tried to pose politely. His massive metal limbs, old, rust-welded, mismatched junk, were clamped into a diagnostic frame while I'm trying to familiarise myself with some of this Medical stuff here. Information downloaded in the brain for practical use doesn't really translate well when I haven't used the tool in my life.
It would be great to have a Terran Medic here. So it took a while, it was already midnight by the time I had the arms ready and fixed them to the Workframe.
"Alright," I said, tightening the last sensor node on the interface brace. "These should sync with your power. They're not fully Terran-grade CMC arms, but they're lightyears ahead of… whatever the hell this is."
I tapped his old forearm with a single hole in it, bigger than most bullet holes, it blasted the poor metal and melted everything from the inside. And it made a noise like tapping a rusted radiator full of wet gravel, too…That thing ain't right.
Trainwreck winced. "Yeah. Kinda hurts when you do that."
"Good. That means your nerves sorta work."
The fabricator beeped, announcing the completion of the first assembly cycle.
A newly forged mechanical arm unfolded from the cradle in that cyberpunk sleek, dark alloy with polished servo pistons, micro-hydraulic lines, and a proper Terran-style joint structure that wouldn't shear off if he sneezed too hard. It wasn't pure CMC tech, but close enough.
It does look nice, like Gorilla arms from Cyberpunk and real skin weave.
Trainwreck's eyes widened. "That's… mine?"
"Unless you know another cyborg whose biceps got blown over by a railgun."
He chuckled, low and awkward. "Damn."
I brought it over, aligning the coupling ports.
"Okay. Hold still. This is the part where things might hurt."
His shoulders tensed when I said it might hurt. How much hurt? I have no clue.
"Like… a lot?"
"No idea. Haven't tested this on anyone. Or anything." Hmm…I thought to myself.
"That sounded reassuring in my head." Trainwreck is visibly panicking, even though he doesn't show it. No arms to fidget around, although you can kinda tell, his feet clamp up just a little.
I connected the first port the interface lit up in a brilliant electric blue, running initialisation code. So far, so good. He just sat on the reinforced cot, flexing his brand-new Terran-grade arms like a kid who'd just been handed the world's deadliest arms. Could be? It is made with neosteel. Same steel that's bulletproof to most small calibre armour. Middle Calibre? Eh…then it started to chip away at its cannons from a vehicle until I can upgrade to one of those fancy Vanadium Armour.
The servo bundles whirred, his fingers clacked and flexed slowly, and every now and then a soft hydraulic hum echoed through the medbay, and honestly, the sound was kind of relaxing. Like industrial ASMR or the sound of a fidget spinner.
Rubbing my eyes since I've gotten tired.
Installing those arms had taken a toll; it hadn't been long, but I'm not used to it, plus several near-cannibalisation incidents almost messed it up when his power went out of control to devour it, but Trainwreck managed to suppress it, and also that one incident where Trainwreck sneezed and accidentally welded the surgical tray to the wall. Not my fault. Absolutely not my fault. Honestly, his powers are pretty weird.
"Alright," I said, exhaling. "Let's talk biology. Or… whatever the hell you have instead of that."
Trainwreck tilted his head, the new plates on his neck adjusting automatically. "You mean my assimilation thing?"
"Yeah." I tapped my tablet. "Because, uh, it's not something I'm familiar with. Even by parahuman standards. You touched those Terran alloys for, like, twenty seconds, and they just… melted into your system. Like cotton candy. Steel cotton candy."
He grinned, which was not reassuring considering his teeth had partially turned to some kind of metal-resin composite that kinda look like a car bumper.
"Feels natural to me," he said. "It's like… imagine you're hungry. Really hungry. But instead of wanting food, your body wants structure. Wants… pieces. The right pieces."
"That's exactly what worries me," I muttered. "Your biology shouldn't want any of this. Your bone structure is fused to tungsten-carbide spirals, your muscles have braided steel bundles in them, and your skin is… I don't even know. Some kind of self-repairing composite?"
He shrugged, plates shifting with a soft chk-chk-chk. "It all sticks together. I don't know how. It just… does."
I leaned forward.
"Do you feel pain when you absorb stuff?"
"Sometimes. If it's a bad fit."
He lifted his newly installed forearm, rotated the wrist a perfect 360 degrees. "But this? This is like plugging into something I was already supposed to have."
He tapped the arm affectionately. "You made it easy." I wonder if I should just make him a whole cyborg body and let his body assimilate it.
"Well, Terran tech tends to play nicely with… unconventional biology with some research on alien biology(zerg and protoss of course). The fabricator uses adaptive nano-joint latticing, so it probably recognised your assimilation patterns and-"
Trainwreck raised a hand. "English, Jason."
I sighed. "Your powers like candy. I made candy."
"Oh." He grinned widely. "Then yeah. Good candy."
He kept wiggling his new fingers, the servos purring like happy metal cats. I watched as the seams between Terran alloy and devoured it slowly, I could see the seams of the cyborg arm already merged with the rest of the upper part of his shoulders and II shivered.
"Does it ever… stop? The need to absorb stuff?"
His expression dimmed a little as he thought long and hard on how to reply.
"Not really. If anything, it gets worse when I'm stressed. Or hungry. Or fighting."
He paused. "Sometimes I wake up wanting to fuse with the walls. Or the floor. Or the nearest truck," with another shrug, he just said. "You get used to it."
I didn't say anything for a long moment. Because I wasn't sure, I wanted to imagine what it felt like.
"So…" Trainwreck said, flexing his arm again. "What now?"
"Now?" I exhaled, standing. "We get some sleep, I'm tired as fuck. You-uhh…get assimilating, I guess, Tomorrow? We can try feeding you some new legs, maybe even a new torso and see if you like the new body parts, or you wanna stick to your current one.
He snorted. " All this free stuff is giving me weird feelings. Everything feels weird."
I waved a hand. "Weirder than your usual weird? I mean…who doesn't like free stuff?"
He nodded once. " Eh, I can get used to this if you're being so generous, boss."
I shake my head and just grin, "Wait till you check out the Marauder armour. I'd like to see you assimilate into that" Terran's very own Hulk Buster.
"Monica, prep a room for Trainwreck. Something spacious. Reinforced. And, uh… comfy. He deserves that much."
Monica's holo-avatar flickered into existence beside him, arms crossed like she'd been waiting the entire time to tell him how much work this would cause.
"Acknowledged," she said. "For clarity: what level of accommodations are required?"
Jason rubbed the back of his neck.
"Dont we have anything like a Suite? Make it nice. He's been living in scrapyards and abandoned tunnels. Give him something normal. Something good."
She'd tilted her head like she was recalculating the meaning of extravagant, then vanished to work. "I will allocate the eastern suite."
I followed Monica's flickering blue avatar down the eastern hall of the Command Centre, still half-tired from the medbay but determined. Trainwreck had spent God knew how long sleeping in scrap piles and sewer-access tunnels; he deserved a real place. A good place. Something human.
Now, as the sliding door hissed open, I felt a quiet ripple of shock and Awe.Why? Shit is too fancy. Do I really wanna give this room to him? Eh..Maybe mine is better.
.
"Alright, big guy," I said, stepping aside. "Your room."
Trainwreck lumbered in behind me with those metal plates clinking, new Terran-fabricated arms whirring softly as servos adjusted. He filled the doorway like a steel statue wearing uncertainty as a coat. The moment he stepped inside, he froze with confusion.
Ho-ho! Be impressed!. That meant I did something right.
Allow me to show you Terran hospitality! Damn..this place looks even better than a Tarsonis Resort.
The suite stretched out in front of him like something from a luxury orbital resort. Wide living space. High ceilings. Soft amber lights that warmed the steel panels set automatically to lower stress responses. The floor was reinforced with layered Terran Neosteel plating, tested to handle a siege tank, so one human bio-tinker hybrid wouldn't dent a thing.
A black synth-leather sectional couch hugged one wall, big enough even for him since high-profiled Commanders do sport Marines CMC armour. To accommodate a user like that, the chair needs to be extra-sized. More than Extra -Extra Large.
, facing a holo-table projecting a soft mountain landscape. A kitchenette sat in the corner, counters gleaming, nutrient printer humming quietly, stocked with recipes for both human meals and carefully measured metal blends.
Finally! A REAL GODDAMN KITCHEN! I hope my room is installed with one.
His gaze snagged on the bed next. Good God, Monica had outdone herself. This room is banging. Now I'm looking forward to my own room.
Carbon-titanium frame. Shock-absorbent padding. A mattress that automatically reshapes to his mass and temperature. The sheets were dark and soft, the kind you only saw in hotels with sculpted fountains in their lobby.
And the bathroom?
Don't even get me started. Walk-in steam shower, huge enough to double as a panic room, marble-like tiling, a smart mirror that stabilised his silhouette so he didn't have to stare at his shifting metal biology.
Trainwreck, just look at it with a complicated thought, "Dont think I'll ever use that"
I just frowned and nodded, "Maybe. Give it a few days. Once I build you the normal body parts, you're gonna want to take showers all day long"
Finally, I dont have to shower at the beach like a bum.
Monica had even added personal touches, stuff like reinforced shelving, relaxation oils with that industrial tang he liked, and a small set of Terran-forged steel cubes I'd left on the nightstand as a welcome. That reminds me…How the hell did Steel and gas make all of this happen? Starcraft tech is a little ridiculous. I mean, duh, they do have fabricators, but this is a little too …magic? Yeah… let's go with magic.
Trainwreck didn't move for a long moment and just stared at all the furniture after being overwhelmed by the smell of the luxury and taking it all in. Then he exhaled a low, shaky breath that made the lights flicker as his stress levels dropped.
"…This is for me?" he asked quietly.
I nodded. "Yeah. You're part of my team now. So I know I gotta treat you right.. You deserve a place that isn't a scrapyard."
He turned slowly, those new arms of his tightening with a soft mechanical whirr, not in tension, just emotion he wasn't sure how to show anymore.
"Jason… I don't… I've never had something like this. I dont even remember my own name."
I shrugged, suddenly awkward. "Well. Now you do. Dont sweat the small detail."
He sat down on the edge of the bed. The mattress adjusted instantly, supporting his weight without complaint. He let out a startled breath, half disbelief, half relief.
"Monica?" I said softly.
Her avatar flickered to life at the corner of the room. "Yes, Commander?"
"Maintain this suite as his personal quarters. Highest comfort priority."
Trainwreck's eyes widened further. Monica bowed lightly. "Of course. Welcome home, Trainwreck."
Yeah. It was worth it. I hope that small gesture like this shows that I'm a little more sincere than that shitty coil could ever give him. Oh, right, He did say he needed money. I got up from the bed and left him in his own room.
"Right, Night-o Mr-T. Tomorrow morning, come see me.".
He just nodded solemnly, "Yes boss. See you tomorrow"
As I leave, I could hear a murmur saying, "Fuck…Do I even deserve this?" before backing out of the room and letting the door slide shut with a soft hiss.
Good. One thing off my mind.
Now it was my turn.
The Command Centre's main hallway was quiet as I walked it alone, the LED strips along the walls dimming automatically for nighttime mode. My footsteps echoed softly across the metal flooring, the air faintly humming from the reactors several floors below. Every time I walked through this place, I felt a pinch of disbelief.
This was mine.
Terran tech. Terran structures.
Terran power!!
All answering to me.
I stopped in front of the door marked COMMANDER'S QUARTERS, a far more intimidating label than I deserved. I pressed my hand against the sensor and heard the locks disengage with a deep, metallic thunk, like something out of a sci-fi war film.
The door slid open.
And yeah… Monica had gone wild.
My room wasn't a suite like Trainwrecks' place, but it is practically a private starship cabin embedded inside a military fortress.
The lights turned on with a warm gradient glow, illuminating the polished metal and dark wood analogue surfaces.
The living space stretched wider than my apartment back home. An L-shaped desk dominated one side, built from reinforced composite alloy, glowing faintly with embedded Terran circuitry. A holographic strategy map hovered above it with miniature star systems rotating lazily until I touched them.
The sitting area was absurdly comfortable. Plush couch. Thick carpet. Ambient heat panels under the floor that warmed with each step. A wall-sized display screen was hooked into both the command feed and my entertainment directory, because apparently even a commander needed downtime.
But the bed… holy hell.
The concept of "luxury" into a personal challenge.
A king-sized slab of memory-gel and nano-coils lay in the centre of the room, framed by a soft underglow. The comforter looked like it had been stolen from the VIP suite of an interplanetary ambassador.
The bedroom lights dimmed as I stepped closer, adapting to whatever it assumed my sleep preferences were. Even the air felt softer, enriched with automated oxygen filtering and slight ion adjustment.
Across from the bed was a wall-length window with a projected, not real, but its real looking enough to me. Out came a peaceful Terran meadow under a rising sun. A little unrealistic, since Brockton Bay's actual sunrise came with industrial haze and screaming gulls.
But damn, it felt nice.
I let myself fall backwards onto the mattress. It caught me instantly, hugging every contour with embarrassing precision.
"Commander," Monica's voice chimed softly through the speakers. "Would you like sleep mode activated?"
"Nah," I muttered into the pillow. ". Just… I think I can sleep tight for the first time coming here. Goodnight Monica…see…you…mm..tomorrow..eepy..."
"…Of course.. Goodnight, Commander.."
I stared up at the ceiling, smooth metal, embedded with thin lines of soft blue light and exhaled slowly.
outside my door were SCVs patrolling, railgun turrets warming up, and a superhuman cyborg resting in a luxury room I assigned him.I was getting deeper into something I couldn't back out of, now things have turned out like this..The PRT is gonna want a response even if they haven't shown up yet.
But lying on this impossibly comfortable bed, feeling every muscle sink into weightless support, all I could think was…
"…Yeah. I can handle tomorrow..nmm…fuck..I haven't taken a bath yet…."
Sleep came easily.
Meanwhile outside-
Sophia Hess watched it all happen with the ABB and just stared from atop a lampost in the middle of the night with her full gear and all she could think of was...
"fuck..."