Then he pointed at Danny. "You get a big bowl. You workman. Need strength." I laughed since Danny was stunned since he didnt even ordered it. We got a serving of hot chinese tea and that's it.
I didn't argue. Danny didn't dare. Auntie doesnt seem to be here. Once I had a sip of hot tea in front of us, I leaned back and said, "So. Thought I'd treat you to something better than microwaved burritos today."
Danny chuckled softly. "Doesn't take much to clear that bar."
"Good," I said. "Because I actually wanted to hire your people."
He gave me a careful look, the kind that said Is this a legitimate business or trouble business? Because I've had enough of both. I kinda read it through his eyebrows..or just assume it's along that line.
I raised a hand. "Relax. It's not bad news. Actually… It's an opportunity to make legitimate money."
Danny waited, patient but wary, any guy with half an ounce of common sense would. Chinese employer? Maybe have ties with ABB or maybe not? Who knows. It's a 50/50 gacha pull. Now that I actually drag his ass to an actual ABB teritory, that gacha pull turned 50/80 30 more roles to get a pity "I know the docks are understaffed," I said. "And I know a lot of good men lost their jobs because the place got too dangerous or too decayed to maintain."
"That's… putting it mildly," he muttered.
"Well, no shit, I got the cash," I continued, "I happen to have some equipment too, really good equipment. The kind that makes scrapping abandoned ships and clearing hulls look like slicing cheese."
Danny blinked. "Equipment?"
"Cutters, loaders, heavy-lift gear, The good stuff." I said. I didn't mention the SCV by name because that would raise too many questions, Just plasma cutters, but the tools were legitimate enough on their own. "Enough to strip those rust-caskets littering the waterline and actually restore the shipyard."
He stared at me, somewhere between hopeful and confused. "Jason… equipment like that isn't cheap."
"I didn't say it was cheap," I replied. "I said I have it."
"And you're just… offering it?"
"Yep."
"Why?"
The bowls arrived before I could give an answer. Two steaming mountains of noodles and broth that could probably resurrect a dead man. After the owner stomped away, I continued.
" Have some, it's really good" We ate in silence as I think about what to say before I could continue our negotiation. What would Danny Hebert really want?
"Because… the city needs the docks," I said simply. "And the docks need workers. Not criminals, not mercs, not people running guns. They need dock workers. People who want a paycheck to get this city's economy back."
Danny looked down at his chopsticks, thinking.
"I need you to clear the docks for me and I have my own personnel need in this as well" I went on, "I want you to pick the right guys. The ones who want to work but can't. The ones who didn't deserve to get caught in the mess with all the cape nonsense and everything that goes on in here"
His jaw tightened, emotions flickering through him: pride, grief, longing, all tangled up. "You'd be giving them a way back," I said. "I'm just giving them the tools."
Finally, Danny lifted his eyes. "And what do you want in return?"
I shrugged. "A functional shipyard. A cleaner bay. Maybe a little less rust in the air when I'm walking around. That's it. Hey..you know anything about why the Trainyard smell like piss but it's just rust over at the docks?"
Danny let out a breath, the first true exhale of relief I'd seen from him all morning but also a little wry smile at me trying metionining piss smelling location during Brunch.
"Jason… this could put dozens of people back to work. But nobody is that …you know what I mean. What do you want, Jason?"
"Hmm…I want some army veterans. Ex army, former Marines, air force..I dont care. As long as they have combat experience, it doesn't matter if they are crippled or hurt during some clandestine war. If they got the experience? I'm willing to pay.. Got a separate job for them, legit jobs too, Just need some muscle to do Bodyguard work. See if anyone is interested, the pay is higher of course. But dont force them. It doesn't matter even if it's one or two people."
He nodded slowly, almost reverently, then picked up his chopsticks. "Then I'll make some calls. Let's bring the docks back."
I grinned and raised my tea cup. "To progress."
Danny tapped his cup against mine. "To Chinese tea.."
Mr. Laozhang shouted from the kitchen, "Eat before it gets cold!"
"Hey, Danny, send me your bank account number." He didn't even ask for what and gave the bank numbers to me, I typed something on my phone, sent a few messages to Monica and while we ate our Noodles..several minutes passed by, and Danny got a short message as his eyes went wide with shock.
He slowly turned to me and asked."Did you just send me a hundred thousand dollars?"
I smirked at him while enjoying the Noodles "Recruitment fee, you're gonna need it to recruit as many as you can, if it ain't enough call me, I'll send more."
And that's how you charmed a Dad like Danny Hebert.
"But bro..seriously, do you know how to get rid of that piss smell at the Trainyard? It's driving me crazy, I've been living there, and every fucking morning I have to smell that godforsaken awful piss smell"
Danny Hebert didn't say anything.
…
…
"H-how? Why are you homeless if you have all this money?"
A valid question. How to reply?
Because I'm a cape? I live there? Tee hee?
I walked Danny back to the street outside Laozhang Noodles. He still looked shell-shocked, like I'd handed him a signed deed to the city instead of a promise of tools and manpower and finding out I was also living out in the trainyard like a bum. But that is neither here nor there, and I ain't about to explain shit till we meet again next time.
God knows I need to get myself an ID.
Not an American ID, just an ID. A possible paper trail to explain myself.
"Take care, Danny," I said, giving him a quick nod. "And seriously, bring your daughter here next time, I'll treat her too"
He mumbled something halfway between gratitude and disbelief, then headed down the sidewalk with that stiff gait of a man whose world had just been tilted ten degrees off centre. He kept glancing back at me as I might suddenly revoke the offer, or turn into mist, or reveal I'd been joking the whole time.
I didn't blame him. It's not every day some guy in a hoodie tells you he can single-handedly resurrect the local economy.
I waited until he turned the corner and disappeared, then let out a breath and rolled my shoulders. One more plate spun into motion. One more piece lined up on the board. Dock workers. Cleaned shipyards. The infrastructure is actually functioning. None of it was glamorous, but hell, it mattered. Terran shipyard rehauling is what I'm gonna do next, and oh boy, are they gonna flip out once they see the equipment I bring.
Unche Zhang was resting out at the counter, saw me and said, "Are you sure you aren't coming back to work here, Lengzhai? Lots of girls ask. They want their noodle boy back"
Goddamn that fucking cringe name. I shook my head and simply said, " Sorry, Uncle, got a bigger job, pays well too. "
He snorted, "Pay so well, you still stay at the trainyard..still homeless. Whenever you want to comeback you come. My nephew not the same leh. He's so fat and ugly. Girls don't like him! They want their Noodle boy back, Haiya-" and simply went back behind the wok to start working on the Lunch rush hour soon.
I stepped back inside long enough to drop a wad of bills on the counter under the bowl discreetly. A few hundred-dollar bills, more than the meal cost, but Laozhang was too busy to notice tips larger than the usual part-time cash they gave me. Still have a few coins lying about from when I raided the ABB warehouse that time. Thought I'd pay it forward.
I left before he could grab my ass and refuse.
I adjusted my jacket, mentally flipping through everything on my plate. Monica was probably halfway through flattening another piece of land for her Psi Damper project
Not bad for a morning goal. But it's almost rush hour, I'd better bail first before Auntie Zhang comes back. Went to next door to check out what's up with Jinho. Back then, I was too busy with Shadow stalker stuff to actually check up on him.
He seems to be doing well, still making bread. This Korean bread store is suddenly the place that has somehow become the unofficial watering hole for every auntie within a five-block radius.
Which meant, of course, that the sidewalk was clogged.
The reason why was standing behind the glass window: Jinho, the so-called breadboy, sleeves rolled up, flour dusting his hair like strategically placed snowflakes. He kneaded dough with the sort of intensity normally reserved for k-drama confession scenes. And naturally, a semicircle of aunties and starry-eyed girls were pressed against the window, sighing like the boy was saving lives instead of prepping sweet buns.
I slowed, because the buzz alone was impossible to ignore.
There he was, Brockton Bay's answer to the K-pop industrial complex, The Breadboy of Brockton Bay. Bread Oppa extraordinaire-shaping dough like it personally owed him rent. Niama, this fucker…My Hubae is still so popular.
Tch…
Every time he brushed his fringe back, the crowd behind me emitted a synchronised gasp. A few aunties fanned themselves with menus. Someone even muttered a prayer of thanks to whichever ancestor had blessed this bakery with eye candy. When you look like fucking Sunjin woo, you praise the dough that comes from those heavenly hands.
I exhaled through my nose. Good for him. A little joy didn't hurt the city. Relax. This is normal for him.
I stepped through the bakery door, a jingle of bells announcing my arrival. Warm air washed over me, thick with the scent of butter, yeast, and sugar. The smell of cinnamon, butter and bacon? Came assaulting my senses.
Jinho glanced up at the sound. His expression lit up when he was making that bread, not with fangirl intensity but that earnest, hardworking glow people had when they genuinely enjoyed what they did.
I nodded back. "Morning, Breadboy." Hah!
He laughed softly, wiping his hands on his apron before approaching the counter ignoring me while serving the girl next to me. Tch, is he still butthurt from before? I stepped aside to let a trio of giggling girls swoop in and request their cinnamon buns "extra warm, please oppa," while I waited.
When they finally floated away clutching their pastries like love letters, Jinho leaned on the counter. He raised a brow, watching me like I was as unusual as the first time we met, I outed myself by saying I was a Parahuman. That's dangerous here in Brockton Bay. Which, to be fair, I had done. But frankly? Lately? I dont seem to care about the identity issue thing. It all feels so pointless when you think about it. Who's gonna care? Honestly? Only those who wanna harm you would. Not a lot of things could harm him except for a few choice Parahuman and endbringers.
I shrugged. "Saw the crowd. Had to check if you were secretly filming a music video again to post online on Pho."
He snorted, shaking his head as he reached for a tray of fresh bread. The kid couldn't hide pride even if he tried."Said you're gonna catch up, you bail on me for that underage buff girl you brought. Didn't think you're into little girls"
I pointed at the soft buns round, golden, steaming and glaring at fucker. Are you saying I'm a pedo? The fuck Jinho?! "Give me two strawberry buns…and no, for your information, she's a colleague of sorts. She could probably beat your ass, too, Breadboy. I was handling a situation."
He packed them neatly, movements practised and elegant, like even bread deserved choreography. When he handed the packet to me, there was a faint, innocent kind of confidence in the gesture. He doesn't seem to mind that I just rattled him with the Breadboy thing, fucker already got used to it and takes pride in the damn name…tch.
I took a bite right there. Sweet, warm, fluffy…oh fuck. This shit is actually good. What the hell? Is these real strawberries? And he's only selling it for two dollars each? How's he making money selling it so cheaply? But it doesn't really matter, I guess. The shop is popular enough as it is.
"Damn," I muttered. "You're going to start a war if you keep making bread like this."
Outside, a couple of aunties pressed their noses to the glass again, arguing loudly about which of their nieces should be introduced to him first. Jinho visibly cringed. I chuckled, lifting the bag in salute. "Damn, you got some hardcore fans, huh? Grandma's? Didn't think you vibe that way."
His ears went pink.
"Hey Jason, you take that back!" He grabbed my arm, I froze mid-chew at him, suddenly grabbing me like that, almost jerked me over the counter too, before I could react, though, Karma decided to play a little fun on my social life in the form of rabid shippers who're into BL pairing. Yep, those idiots. My nonexistent social life is in danger-
The shout came from somewhere in the crowd gathered outside the bakery window. Then another voice joined in:
"BREAD OPPA AND NOODLE OPPA TOGETHER~KYAAAAA!"
"Oh my god, they're so cute~look, look, LOOK~!"
"SHIP! I SHIP IT!"
I blinked slowly. Nope, fuck blinking…I was in shock with my eyes wide open, What the fuck?!
Behind the counter, Jinho's hand paused halfway to a tray of melon buns. His smile twitched a little, even I know my little bro dont swing that way. He's a legitimate harem protag. Since when did the genre change? Somewhere between horror and polite customer-service paralysis, my Hubae froze up.
Oi, what happened to that main character energy?
The crowd outside surged toward the door like a tidal wave made of estrogen, auntie perfume, and questionable fandom logic because some author out there decided to write a romcom starring me and Fakeass Sunjin woo over here without my permission. Seriously, why does this sort of situation keep happening?
Hey goddess? Is this your shit? You're a precog, too? Fuck you! I like girls, damnit! This shit is gay as fuck!
Half the girls pressed up against the window, squealing; the other half began fumbling with their phones, cameras raised.
I turned my head slightly to see what all the shouting about, there were at least fifteen of them. Aww fuck…not again.
These rabid girls are gonna be the death of us. all of them beaming and screaming, all pointing at us. One shouted, "Noodle Oppa came to support Bread Oppa in the afternoon! That's so romantic! Is this bromance!?" Fuck no, this isnt bromance! That shit happens in the gym, not in some bakery!
Another corrected her: "No, no, it's rivalry turned romance. Obviously! Look at the tension!"
"Tension, my ass," I muttered under my breath. Jinho made a strangled sound. He was blushing so hard he looked like a strawberry steamed bun. Oi fucker…what happened to that Harem rizz boyband energy?! Dont tell me you actually fall for this shit?! Why the fuck are you embarrassed by this?!
More squeals erupted.
"OH MY GOD THEY MADE EYE CONTACT AGAIN!" breaths in fujoshi*
"When Noodle Oppa smiled earlier? I DIED. I DIED AND CAME BACK. Noodle Oppa! Come back and make noodles again! We miss you!~Saranghae!"
"THIS IS BETTER THAN MY DRAMA!"
The door flew open as three girls rushed inside, practically vibrating with excitement. One shoved a pen toward me.
"Oppa autograph please?!"
Another thrust a bakery menu at Jinho with equal enthusiasm. I looked at the pen. Then at the bun in my hand. Then at Jinho. He whispered, voice barely audible, "Jason… what… is happening?"
I swallowed hard and answered in a whisper to him while gritting my teeth, this doofus."What the fuck is happening?! How can you not get it? They are shipping us together, you dolt!"
Because now two aunties were chanting, "Bread Oppa! Noodle Oppa! Bread Oppa! Noodle Oppa! Saranghaeyo!" Like it was some kind of summoning ritual? The fuck is that shit?My brain short-circuited. I can't deal with this. Somewhere outside, one particularly dedicated girl yelled:
"JUST KISS ALREADY!" and the crowd went screaming.
Motherfucker! You kiss him yourself bitch!~Ahh, my soul is leaving my body again. Is this how it is to die again for the second time? Dying of embarrassment? Kami-sama. Why did you send me here only to kill me with embarrassment?
Jinho looked like he wanted to melt through the floor. I wasn't sure if his face was red from embarrassment or if his blood sugar spiked from inhaling too much powdered sugar. Could be both. The amount of nauseating sweet sugar around us is making me wanna throw up.
I stepped back, hands raised in surrender.
"Nope. I'm done. I'm out," I muttered to myself.
But there was no escape, the crowd surged inward, the bakery packed shoulder-to-shoulder with excitable fans forming a circle around us, phones raised like we were performing a duet nobody had rehearsed for. I certainly didn't rehearse anything, not to mention expecting this sort of thing.
Brockton Bay? What is wrong with you? It's the water, isnt it? It's all that Brockon piss salt and rust water. I knew there was something wrong with the water.
I took a deep breath. Ok..not the front way."Yo bro, is there a backroom where we can bail? Where the fuck are your parents?"
I grab Jinho and drag his ass to the backroom around the kitchen. I didn't so much walk Jinho to the backroom as I yanked him by the sleeve like a man escaping a cult. He followed in a daze, clutching a tray of unbaked rolls with him.
I shoved the swinging door open with my shoulder and practically dragged him inside.
Silence.
Blessed, flour-scented, sanity-preserving silence, finally. Was this room sound-insulated? Pretty odd for a bakery, dont you think so? Jinho's parents were both at the prep counter, elbow-deep in dough, staring at us with identical expressions of:,ah- so there's the parents.
What now?
His mom blinked slowly. "Why was the shop shaking?"
His dad asked, "Stampede? Earthquake? wue?"
"No," I said flatly, exhaling like I'd escaped a warzone. "Just your son's fans."
Both parents exchanged a look equal parts resignation and migraine. Yeah, no shit. I dont pity you for having an overly handsome kid. Good genes are a curse. His parents look awfully normal, though. Is the boy adopted?
Jinho's mom sighed in the heavy, world-weary way only a woman who had survived years of her son's inexplicable popularity could manage. "Again?"
Jinho set down the tray and rubbed the back of his neck, still pink from embarrassment. "It was… louder than usual."
"You don't say," I muttered. His dad wiped his floury hands on an apron and gave me a curious once-over. "And who's this?"
Right, introductions time, Asian parents love the meet and greet stuff except I'm just a guy friend, not his girlfriend. I straightened my back, pushed back my hood, and offered a small, apologetic smile.
"I'm Jason, the Chingu-" I said. "Your son's friend."
Their expressions softened immediately, making me think twice that my Hubae might not actually have any guy friends at all. Just admirers and girls. Jinho's mom brightened. "Ah! So you are the Noodle Boy they keep talking about! Jinho doesn't talk about his male friends. I almost thought he didn't have any. So the Noodle boy is it? "
Jinho visibly died inside at the mention of my pseudonym. My eye twitched at that absurd name again "Please don't call me that."
His dad chuckled, clapping a hand on my shoulder with surprising strength. "Well, Noodle Boy, welcome. Any friend of our Bread Boy is family."
I inhaled sharply through my nose. This family has naming conventions. Now I know where Jinho get his common sense from. Behind us, the muffled cries from the front continued:
"NOODLE OPPA WHERE ARE YOU???"
"BREAD OPPA DON'T LEAVE US!"
I pinched the bridge of my nose. Jinho slumped against the counter in shame. His mom looked toward the doorway with an expression that suggested she was mentally calculating which deity she'd angered this week.
"Well," she said with a smile that was far too serene for the chaos outside, "since you're hiding here, Jason, you might as well stay for some tea."
"Ahhh..- " Jinho switched into rapid-fire Korean as soon as we slipped into the back room at the offer of tea, his voice quick and earnest, like he was trying to convince them that I just dragged him away from a mob of thirsty fangirls.
His mom glanced up from dusting flour across a big block of dough. His dad was elbow-deep in the industrial mixer, stopping now to take a break. Neither of them even blinked at the noise coming from outside, like they were used to all the shenanigans. I get the feeling this is an everyday occasion.
I realised, abruptly, that this probably happened a lot of times with their very famous son. They probably had levels of emotional immunity I could only dream of, not to mention dealing with ABB crap. Guess everyone here got that extra grit, not just Laozhang. Even a bakery shop owner gotta have their own indifference to all the crap.
Jinho cleared his throat dramatically. "Eomma, Appa… uh… I'm going to take off for the day. I want to hang out with my friends."
His mom squinted at me like she was trying to determine if I was a hallucination caused by heatstroke and too much bakery sugar. Jinho turned slightly pink. "I do have friends."
"You have those so-called girlfriends... humph," his father corrected. "And your customers, you Fans. Followers. Girls who cry outside because you sliced the bread nicely. That is not the same thing."
"I have at least two friends," Jinho insisted. Then jabbed a thumb at me. "One is right here saving me from getting shipped by fans"
"Hey," I muttered. "I didn't sign up to be the Noodle Oppa in anyone's fanfic."
His mother muttered something under her breath that sounded like, "Too late, the girls out there are already writing season two on Pho-" The fuck? Do people actually write fanfiction of us?!
Jinho clapped his hands together. "Anyway! I'm going out. Today. With Jason."
His father exchanged a look with his mother and just shrugged."Well… you rarely ask for time off," his mom said, wiping her hands on her apron. "Only when you're sick. Or when you overslept. Or when you shit your-"
"Ahh-That was one time, stop airing my dirty laundry, Eomma!" Jinho hissed.
"Or when you pee your bed at six-," his dad added.
"That was also one time! And stop it! You're embarrassing me!" I can't help but restrain myself and give him a short smirk, as he melts in embarrassment again. Wet your bed at six? Isnt that normal? They waved him off with the resigned blessing of people who knew resistance was futile.
His mother even stepped forward, smiling kindly at me. "Jason-ssi, please take care of our Jinho. He has fans, but no common sense."
"Hey!" Jinho protested.I nodded solemnly. "Ma'am, I noticed. Boy ain't right in the head, no offence ma'am, sir."
His father pointed one stern flour-covered finger at us. "Just bring this brat home safe, no gang-related stuff either. If I ever find out the two of you ever deal with the ABB -"
The implication if you don't, we will find you hung politely but firmly in the air, and I whip yo ass even if you are an asian from another mother. Appa will beat my ass up with asian parenting style even if it ain't your kid. Alright, I got the message.
His dad got up and said, "Guess I'm working the counter again" and just sighed as he went ahead into the battlefield.
Jinho grabbed my sleeve and tugged me toward the side door. "Let's go before they send me back to work."
And so we slipped out, leaving the comfort of warm bread and surprisingly chill parents, only to hear the shrieks from the front of the bakery swell like a tidal wave. The Noodle Oppa fanbase had not dispersed. Poor parents, having to deal with that now. Brave parents. Damn brave man. What a Chad, Mr Jinho Dad.
I muttered, "You're lucky you've got nice parents"
Jinho sighed like a man who'd lived this life far too often."Yes," he said. "I know."
When he finally straightened, hair mussed and apron still dusted with flour, he looked at me with that bright-eyed curiosity he always had when something new dangled in front of him.
"So," he said. "What now? Where are we going?"
I jerked a thumb toward the alley's opening. "My place."
He tilted his head. "Like… your actual place? You have a place here in Brockton Bay?" "No," I said. "The other place."
His eyes widened. "The Trainyard? Wait..you weren't kidding when you said you live there."
"Yep."
"The one with the big giant base that's on Pho and had some crazy tinker living there with mechs roaming around and a two-foot turret with tinker tech. Saw it on Pho. That really, you Sunbae?"
I rolled my eyes, " Guess it ain't a secret anymor,e huh I need to check Pho again after this…just so damn busy these days.."
" Shibal. I thought you were small-time for real. No wonder you ain't afraid of Lung, and you're inviting me inside? " he asked.
I shrugged. "Well, you're part of the roster now. I need to test your abilities."
Jinho blinked again, just for extra measure..another blink. "Abilities?"
"Yes."
He pointed at himself. "Bread abilities? You're interested in that?"
"Correct."
He stared. I stared back at him, not knowing that it was actually my fault that made him trigger. Probably still have an issue with that, wondering if he managed to help those girls? He probably thought the worst when everything was crashing around him, disappointing his girls like that.. Finally, he exhaled. "Jason… my power is that I can change bread. It's not that impressive."
"That's not it," I said, already walking. "You can reshape wheat-based matter on a molecular level. That's a big deal. You could weaponise carbs, at least that's my theory. Won't know till we test it"
Jinho jogged to catch up. "Why would I weaponise carbs, Sunbae?"
"Because it's hilarious," I said. "Okay, serious time, it's because I need to know the full range of what you can do. For example, if you can change the shape and constitution of the bread into anything else at all.."
"That so huh…you think I can change bread to ..money or a rocket launcher" he repeated flatly. " Was it that impressive? I just make flour rise faster with my powers. Make bread taste extra good."
I ignored that; his bread was really good, though. How much of that is his baking or his powers? Who knows. Time to find out.
The Command Centre was right there, towering like a super industrial complex in size. The size alone makes people take a double-take. It seems like the place is walled off since I left, Walls reinforced with Neosteel. Nice.
This was certainly new.
The reinforced steel door scanned my face and slid open with a hiss. Jinho's jaw dropped, just like the first time I brought anyone here.
Rows of Mechs, humming Reactors, A giant building next to the command centre, that's the barracks, of course, everything gleamed with that sleek, dangerous ambience that came with expensive military shit that screams Terran Supremacy. Just the way I like it.
"Wow…neo jang na hanya..?" he whispered. "This is so cool. How the hell did you even build all this?"
"By not following OSHA standards and just speeding up building the stuff with tinker tech", I said. "Some of the equipment here is definitely not up to regulation," as I walked forward into the main room with Jinho trailing behind, taking it all in.
How else am I gonna tell him? How did I build all this with three mechs and within a whole week? Shit like this takes at least a year or two to build by ordinary standards, and even Agnes Court takes a week or two to build a whole skyscraper.
In terms of infrastructure build, the more SCV I have working on a project, the less time I need to make it done. I was thinking about making use of some of the more reserved technology. Startcraft is in a weird mix of Super Technology, similar to Armoured Core and Realistic Technology like Battletech.
A middle ground between real and advanced tech. The scale and technological uptick can be so modern, like nanotechnology, but then so ridiculously underpowered with Mechs like Goliath, with no lateral movement and booster technology that simply offer no mech strafing like Gundam or any Japanese mech counterpart.
A build for later for me, Monica, and to talk shop and try to find a way. Maybe work with other tinkers to create this very flaw in mech design.
The entrance to the Command Centre came into view. I pulled it open, revealing the stairwell descending into the ground. Jinho paused only long enough to swallow hard before following me up the metal steps, each footfall echoing behind us.
The motion sensors caught us halfway, flooding the narrow descent with harsh white light. Jinho's shadow stretched long across the concrete walls. He kept glancing around, trying to piece everything together, probably wondering how a simple bakery apprentice ended up being dragged toward something that felt like the set of a covert sci-fi thriller.
Thank you, shard. I wonder what sort of shard it is.
At the bottom area, the reinforced steel door scanned me, unlocking with the familiar hydraulic hiss. The Command Centre unfolded before us a cavernous chamber of servers, consoles, mechanical arms, and training SCV bays that act as its hangars was the first place we entered.,
There are sealed equipment lockers for the SCV pilots, but since I didn't have any SCV and ran on SCV bots, none of them were used. There are half-finished projects scattered across reinforced tables, mostly from what happened when I was waiting for the prefab cardboard siege tank to be made,
. It held some Ideas to turn an SCV into a proper fighting machine. Still working on the kinks.
Jinho froze just past the threshold. The awe hit him immediately as his entire expression shifted from confusion to shock to the realisation that he was standing somewhere far beyond anything he'd expected today. He looked painfully out of place among all the advanced tech, still wearing his apron and smudged sleeves.
I watched him walk forward, tentative at first, then drawn in by the soft glow of holoscreens and the rhythmic pulse of power conduits running along the ceiling. Wait till he meets Monica, I wonder if he will freak out.
His gaze traced everything around the base, from the drone racks, the reinforced testing chamber, and the modular control stations humming quietly at the centre of the room. He touched nothing, hands tucked by his sides, careful and respectful in a way that made me oddly relieved.
He didn't understand why he was here yet, but that would come soon enough.
For now, I simply observed him taking it all in, letting the moment settle.
Boy needs to get that in his head that he's a cape now. Sooner or later, he's gonna wanna use his power, or if he already did, needs to know how to use it correctly. He stepped into the middle of the room, turning slowly, almost reverently, as though he were trying to memorise every detail before it slipped away.
He was an unknown variable with abilities that could matter more than he realised because I dont have any database on this. None of my meta-knowledge would help me in this. I needed to understand him, measure the limits of what he could do, and find where his place fit within the controlled chaos of my operations.
He snorted, stepping forward, eyes widening as he took it all in. Then he turned to me. "So what do you need me to do?"
"Simple," I said, gesturing toward the testing chamber. "We're going to see exactly how far you can push your bread alteration abilities."
He squinted. "You're making this sound way more dramatic than it is."
"No, you really should learn how to use it properly, because the alternative is just you being a tool for your powers. Parahumans will always want to use their powers. It's a built-in mechanism.," I said. "And also… someday, someone out there is going to try to kill you for your powers, gonna wanna use you. And on that day… I want you to protect yourself, to protect your mom and dad.."
"Jason," he said slowly, "I make bread. That speech is both incredibly awesome and stupid at the same time. You're saying my bread powers are gonna consume me?"
I told him about Shards.
The alien passengers are buried somewhere in their biology, hitchhiking inside every parahuman. I explained how they acted like living engines, feeding data between themselves, nudging us, pushing us toward conflict and growth. Not malevolent. Not benevolent. Just driven. For data.
Always testing, always learning, always wanting more input.
He listened without interrupting, his expression tightening with each revelation. I could practically feel the moment he realised none of this fit the romantic, heroic image the media painted around capes.
His fingers twitched at his sides, and his shoulders stiffened, the faint smell of flour and warm dough clinging to him like a reminder of the normal life he'd been living up until now.I explained how powers stagnate when ignored. How the Shard grew bored.
Restless. Doing nothing with your abilities wasn't just wasteful; it was harmful, according to most Shards. He needed to use his powers, refine them, and guide the growth instead of letting the Shard push him toward situations he wasn't ready for.
I kept my tone calm, steady, nothing dramatic. Just the truth. Cold, clinical, stripped of glamour. He absorbed every word, chest rising and falling in slow, heavy breaths. I could see panic blooming behind his silence. It's not an easy subject to know the truth, or at least part of the version he knew.
People reacted to this revelation in different ways. Fear. Denial. Anger. Excitement. For Jinho, it was something quieter, more personal. A subtle shift in the way he held himself, as though the ground beneath him had tilted, but he wasn't ready to fall.
I didn't tell him everything, dont need to trigger certain things, of course, kept Zion out, kept broken triggers, and second triggers away from the conversation.
He didn't need every ugly detail yet. But he needed to know why he needed to use it. He needed to know that his powers weren't harmless tricks, and ignoring them wouldn't keep him safe.
"Alright, let's test it", he said.
Went to the kitchen near the cafeteria to get some bread. Fully stocked bread automatically. Got afew loafs and stack 'em at the testing chamber. What's a testing chamber?
Think of it like a miniature gym where you can basically create any training program and test out anything in a localised area. Inside the testing chamber, I set down the bag of test materials Monica had produced, like plastic, rubber, cheap metals, ceramics, glass, and a few common alloys, to see if he could work on these materials or just bread.
Jinho stared at it with the serious focus of a surgeon prepping for open-heart surgery.
He exhaled sharply, rolled up his sleeves, and placed his hands on the loaf. That strange shimmer rippled along his arms, and the bread responded like it was listening, loosening its internal structure until it was no longer food but raw material.
With a few careful gestures, he pulled it apart like malleable clay. The dough-like mass held together with impossible stability, defying physics in the way only powers could. He shaped it into a sphere. Then a simple block.
I passed him a bar of plastic. He tried the same with metal. Then ceramics. Then glass. It's not working.
Every time, the transformation only worked when the base material came from bread, dough, or loose flour. Anything wheat-based. He could convert it into anything he had touched before perfectly, down to microscopic structure, but he needed wheat as the starter template, an odd medium if you ask me.
I really hope the psyche evaluation and his being a baker don't account for this. A shard somewhere out there has a sense of humour. Never say it's impossible. There might be a shard that could think in humour in ones and zeroes. Who knows. His powers weren't food-based. They were wheat-based. A bizarre limitation, but considering the nature of Shards, it's probably nothing new. Weird alien cells are weird, I guess.
I handed him the neosteel sample last.
"Monica… analyse this ", I said.
"Acknowledge Commander", the holofeed came blaring from around the base.
Monica has already started the analysis. Jinho seems a little startled "Huh? W-who's that? Who's Monica?"
Monica's footsteps echoed lightly across the polished floor. Too light, too even, too perfectly spaced for a human. Jinho was still staring at the neosteel he'd just created when her shadow stretched over the workbench.
He turned.
And promptly yelped.
I didn't blame him. Her new gynoid frame was… well, a little uncanny. Sleek black hair cut in a neat bob, warm brown eyes that tracked movement with mechanical precision, a posture so straight it would've made a drill sergeant weep.
She looked like someone had taken my face sorta, softened it, made it feminine, and then smoothed out every imperfection until whatever was left belonged on the cover of a cutting-edge robotics magazine. She was wearing one of those medical softsuits with plasteel to cover the necessary part for protection. The perfect Korean K-Beauty like she came off an add from Shiseido.
She inclined her head politely. "Apologies. I did not intend to startle you."
Jinho jumped again. "Oh? I didn't know someone lived here. Who's she?"
I stepped to his side before he overloaded. Guy already looked like he was about to go into a flour-induced cardiac event.
"Right," I said, gesturing to her. "Jinho, this is Monica. My adjutant. Assistant. Second brain. Take your pick."
Monica bowed with that flawless mechanical grace, even with that almost human synthetic skin. Her voice is still quite mechanical and synthesised, like one"It is a pleasure to meet you. I have been collecting data on your power usage for analysis."
Jinho stared, slack-jawed. "She..uhh..she looks like you. She's your sister or something?"
"Hmm…Unfortunately, no." I muttered. I wanted to ask why Monica even took my features and made a female version of me with longer hair. Is this how AI rebel against society? By mimicking their creator or something?
"I based my current appearance template on available references to approximately align with my operator's cultural background," Monica said calmly. "The resemblance is statistically within an acceptable range."
"Statistically?" Jinho whispered, "Hey..Sunbae, why does she talk like that?" as if the word itself might bite him.
Monica stepped forward, eyeing the slab of replicated neosteel in his hands. "The replication accuracy is 99.998%. This is significantly higher than Projected Threshold Theory predicted according to the template- Asian Ethnicity."
Jinho blinked. "She uhh.. she's gonna analyse me too?"
"She analyses everything," I said. "Don't take it personally. That's just kinda like her power." And also she's a an UED A.I., A rather cheeky one if you ask me. She can tell that I'm quite annoyed by this and gave me a little upturned smile.
The audacity of this woman!-
Monica! Why?! How?! They grow up so fast…rebelling already. Feels like I'm raising a teenager instead of a sister. Oh, wait, isnt that the same thing?
"I analyse only as required for optimal support," Monica added. "Including environmental hazards, power fluctuations, and unauthorised emotional spikes."
Jinho's voice cracked. "Unauthorised what?"
"She means panic attacks," I said. "She's trying to say you're fine."
Monica nodded. "Your heart rate has returned to stable levels. Please continue your testing when ready. Additional samples have been prepared."
Jinho leaned toward me, whispering behind his hand even though Monica could hear a pin drop from three rooms away.
"Jason… is your assistant… always like this?"
"Yes," I said.
"And she lives here?"
"Yup. Rent free too."
"And she watches everything?"
"Pretty much."
He stared at her, Monica standing perfectly still except for the faint hum of her internal gyros "She's not really human, isn't she?"
Monica raised an eyebrow. "Correction, I am aiming to be a proper human. It seems this model seems to be lacking if it cannot pass off as a human." A little frown appeared on her face after giving her that feedback.
I groaned, "Monica, we can hear your servos and the sound of your mechanical bits whirling. Maybe ya know…focus on that? Put some sound dampers or just fill in the empty bits so it won't be hollow? Minimise the sound dampening."
Jinho whispered, "She's a robot?!", totally shocked by the revelation.
"She tries to pretend to be one, but she's actually my A.I " I sighed.
Monica tilted her head. "Operator, should I prepare additional flour samples for further experimentation?"
"Yeah," I said. "And maybe tone down the murder-scientist energy by about ten per cent, and really? Are you gonna use my face? Can't you just, I dont know, slide some sliders around? It's a little creepy looking at a beautiful version of me…ugh, is that how it feels to stare at a sibling? Fuck…I am not used to this."
She blinked with that slightly-too-smooth synthetic motion. "Understood. I shall make some adjustments to this unit. The next iteration won't suffer any feedback, I hope." She smiled. A rather menacing smile, if I might add.
Both Jinho and I took an involuntary step back."I stand corrected…just dont smile." I said.
"Adjusting." She relaxed into a more neutral expression.
Jinho swallowed hard. "Jason… your adjutant is really weird."
"Buddy," I said, clapping his shoulder, "you're the one who just turned a baguette into military-grade alloy."
He looked down at the neosteel again, then slowly nodded."…Okay. Fair. What's this stuff anyway? He asked.
"Oh, just probably the strongest metal available on earth right now..probably. Try warping the bread version of that steel you're holding. See if you can mould it around into different shapes," I said.
I watched Jinho crouched over. One moment it was a simple flower; the next,it had taken the form of a perfect steel-like sword, balanced and precise as if forged by a master smith.
He experimented furiously, stretching his limits. Small floating spears hovered in the air around him, suspended by some invisible tether of will, while a sleek, silvery armour wrapped around a mannequin on the table, every seam and joint aligned perfectly.
The versatility of his power was astonishing. He could take the simplest wheat-based ingredient and turn it into almost any weapon or defensive implement he could imagine.
But the effort was visible.
His movements began to slow after each transformation, beads of sweat forming on his brow despite the air-conditioned room. His breathing deepened, and his hands trembled slightly as he tried to maintain control over multiple objects at once. Even with his incredible skill, the strain was real, the limits of his stamina a silent warning beneath the spectacular display of power.
I leaned against the wall, careful not to disturb the floating spears, and made a mental note on how to improve his power retention. His potential was immense, but if he overused it in the field, he could burn out fast.
Training and pacing would be crucial. Still, watching him work, his focus absolute, his imagination boundless, the patience of a baker, I supposed. Woke up at 4 am to make the dough, then as early as 7 am, open for business to serve the hungry crowd looking for a filling breakfast to jumpstart their day to work and their daily life.
The breadboy of Brockton Bay was no longer just a baker. He was a craftsman of chaos, a parahuman who could turn the simplest ingredient into a weapon of astonishing precision.
I wonder what else he could do?
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My wrist buzzed, cutting clean through the hum of machinery and the soft clatter of Jinho's latest bread-forged contraption settling onto the table. I pulled out my phone, already expecting some PRT nonsense or maybe a reply from Danny. Who else did I give my number to, anyway? Jinho is here, only to see Sophia Hess plastered across the top of the screen.
Of course …I totally forgot about her. haha.
I opened the message.
Shadowbaby-
I'm bored as hell. ur fault, btw. u dumped me with these losers.
I snorted quietly. In front of me, Jinho was hunched over a pile of flour, trying to shape it into a shield. Good kid. Easily startled. No reason to drag him into Sophia's perpetual teenage rage spiral.
I thumbed out a reply.
You're a Ward now. I told you before that this is what you signed up for if you agreed. No takebacks.
Shadowbaby-
I DID NOT sign up for my mom freaking out bc Miss Militia showed up at our door like I'm in some sort of house arrest! She could have told me she was visiting!. Now my mom won't even let me leave the house unless its PRT business!!!
That was… actually hilarious. Haha!
I typed out a reply-
What did you think would happen when a new ward joins? Of course, she's gonna escort you home? Did you expect anything else?
Shadowbaby-
Shut up. You still suck. This is unbearable.
I stretched, my arms a bit, rolling my shoulders due to the stiffness of standing up for an hour watching Breadboy doing flour tricks, watching Jinho nearly topple backwards as a floating flour-spear dissolved prematurely and puffed into his face because he's tired and tanked out. A limitation to his stamina or something.. He coughed, waving through the cloud of flour. Monica recorded it all with serene interest. Taking notes on his BP levels.
Shadowbaby-
I swear to god, if you dont get me out of here, I will phase into your room tonight and choke you out.
A pause. Another buzz.
Shadowbaby-
…also, what are you doing? What are you up to?
I looked at Jinho, currently turning a loaf of sourdough into something vaguely resembling a neosteel boomerang, but it's a little crooked. Control is still an issue, I suppose.
I typed back on the phone for a reply-
Training a kid to turn bread into weapons.
Three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then reappeared. The message was just a single word. Probably miffed that I recruited a new guy.
Shadowbaby-
What?
I typed back to reply to the bored little girl at home-
-Exactly what it sounds like.
Shadowbaby-
…I leave you alone for ONE DAY, and you already recruited someone?!
I grinned at the message after reading it, despite that I knew Jinho before I met Shadow anyway. I typed back to reply again.
It could be worse. Could've joined the PRT. He could join the PRT. Too bad he just turned eighteen this year, so nah, he dont need a babysitter as you do.
Shadowbaby-
Low blow. I'm blocking you. …Okay…no, I'm not. But I'm still bored. Come get me later.
I glanced at the time. The lab monitors flickered with new data Monica was gathering. Jinho, exhausted, plopped into a rolling chair and let it slide a few inches backwards across the floor. Guess it's okay for him to head home. We have enough data for Monica to create a training program and for me to think of new tests to diversify the power for later.
I got up and typed back to Sophia-
Fine. I'll swing by after this. Try not to threaten anyone till then. Meet you at the PRT HQ. Check to see if they can let you do a patrol; if not, just wait there for me, I'll smooth things over if I can.
Shadowbaby-
Fine, just come, I really dont wanna hang with these losers.
I rolled my eyes over. She's still not playing nice yet, but I was kinda hoping the inhibitor would ease things down. One day isnt gonna change anyone so soon, I suppose. I replied back swiftly with some advice
Just try to make some friends, alright? You could use better friends than Emma and Madison. If the kids dont cut it, try Assault and Battery. Go make friends with adults like you and me. Miss Militia is pretty chill when I talked to her yesterday. Or show them the ropes in training practice or something, isn't Vista there? Despite her age, she's the oldest ward member in the team. She probably knows more about tactical protocol and PRT procedures than the rest of the wards.
It took a while for her to reply before I got another buzz from the phone.
Shadowbaby-
TLDR-Alright, I'll try, ok. No promises.
I pocketed the phone, shaking my head. For someone who lived in shadow, Sophia had absolutely zero chill. Too long, didn't read? Hell, you read all of that, who are you kidding, girl?
Trainwreck's arrival announced itself before he even crashed through the main hall, first the thunder of metal steps, then the scraping drag of something large, heavy, and probably something odd stuck to the armour, hauled and dragged over his new power suit.
I turned just in time to watch a Marauder armour suit duck through the wide maintenance bay entrance, the upper plating smeared with sap, splinters, and an entire small tree lodged in one of the shoulder ridges like a grotesque feather ornament. Wood chunks rained behind him in a sad, crunchy trail.
He stomped in, smoke still curling from the quad-launch tubes.I didn't need Monica's HUD readout to know every single piece of ammo was gone.
Well. That didn't take long.
Jinho nearly fell out of his chair when Trainwreck's silhouette filled the doorway, scattering a cloud of flour into the air like a startled squid. I reached out and steadied the kid by the back of his hoodie before he toppled. "Relax..Jinho. Big guy here is a friend. I should wrap things up," I said to Jinho for myself.
I walked over to Jinho first; he still looked half-winded, half dazzled by the day's experiments. His hands were dusted white, his hair was sticking in eight directions from static flour explosions, and he had a faint streak of neosteel-colored bread mush on his cheek. Poor kid. He'd survived his first power test.
I clapped him lightly on the shoulder, a gesture that sent a little puff of flour into the air. I didn't need words. He got it. His eyes brightened, tired but grateful, and he gave a small nod. He'd earned a break.
Behind me, Trainwreck finally stopped moving and stood proudly in the centre of the room like a dog expecting praise for dragging home an entire uprooted bush. He threw both Marauder arms up with a triumphant hydraulic hiss.
Then several things slid off him at once: the branches, bark, and one perfectly intact bird's nest that hit the floor with a soft plop.
He'd really gone all out.
The Marauder helmet hissed open with a burst of steam, and Trainwreck's grinning, filthy face popped out. He looked like someone who had just discovered the joy of overkill. I took the view in with all the empty rocket racks from his shoulders, the dented plating, the tree-branch crown still wedged into the armour. What the hell did he do in the forest up north?
"Hey Boss, Kinda used up all the ammo" grinning away happily like an idiot. Of course, he was happy. I wasn't sure whether to be impressed or deeply concerned for the local forest ecosystem. I will have to check out the damage.
I sighed internally, rubbing the bridge of my nose.
"Alright," I thought, I really need to build an alternative stun option for him, and maybe confiscating the rocket launcher until further notice or until Endbringers show up.
Jinho watched the scene with wide eyes, probably wondering what kind of lunatic he'd agreed to follow into a secret base. Trainwreck noticed the new person and asked, "Who's the new kid? You keep picking up strays, boss," moving the splinters around his armour, making it an issue for the drones to clean that up later.
I gave Jinho one last nod, then turned to deal with the living artillery piece shedding wildlife all over my floor.
" New parahuman, I was just testing his powers"
Jinho blinked at all of the odd stuff stuck to him, but was mostly intimidated by the 3-meter-tall armoured giant "Are you… okay?"
Trainwreck brightened immediately. "Yeah! This is normal. Happens when you run out of ammo."
"Or," I muttered, "when you keep shooting at trees for fun." He really emptied it all, huh. Glad I dont have to buy Ammo and can just keep making them endlessly.
Trainwreck turned to Jinho with open curiosity. "Huh..I think I've seen you before. You're the new kid everyone keeps talking about, right? The bread guy?"
Jinho smiled. "I wouldn't… phrase it that way, but yes. Jinho. Nice to meet you."
Trainwreck leaned closer, looking at the crumbs still on the ground from Jinho's last attempt. "So you can turn bread into… stuff?"
"Sort of." Jinho rubbed the back of his neck. "It takes energy. And focus. And I get tired quickly."
"That's cool," Trainwreck said with total sincerity. "Better than my power. My power is just 'be loud and break things. And consume junk, make junk work into a horrible monstrosity.' Not exactly subtle."
I snorted. "Don't undersell yourself. You're a walking Reactor."
Trainwreck shot me a look and a smile, then turned back to Jinho. "Can you make, like… a bread spear? Or a shield? Or-oh! A sword? Like a baguette sword?"
Jinho actually laughed. "I can. Already made one from a baguette. Doesn't really slice well, and it kinda sucks when I use my powers, I tired out so easily."
"Dude," Trainwreck said, nodding sagely, "That's so sick.. Last time I pushed myself, I fell through a boat dock. The entire pier just collapsed. People thought a whale landed on it."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "He's still working on the control…Think you can show him, Jinho?" I asked him.
Jinho dispelled the flour, turned it into steel-type spears and then it crumbles. The crumbs drifted down like sad flour confetti and then turned back to a sword instead.
Trainwreck watched with fascination and took the sword. Just a basic medieval-style sword. Even the handle was metal "This is so cool. Wanna show me how it works sometime? I bet I could make a blade to work with the Power armour with your help."
Jinho smiled shyly. "Sure. If you want."
Trainwreck pumped his fist. "Awesome! New friend!"
But my gaze was elsewhere, it was Monica pinging me, saying, 'We have a little birdie spying on us. What would you have me do?" Huh.. someone tries to hack us?
"Just deal with it, Monica, try to not overwhelm them, okay?"
Monica holofeed just nodded "Acknowledge" and simply went to work. I wonder who's brave enough to even dare to hack this Command Centre. Pretty ballsy if I had to say so myself.
—----
Jinho stood just outside the main gate. He looked tired in the way new capes always do after their first real test: worn thin but vibrating with the strange exhilaration of discovering a part of themselves they never knew they had.
I didn't give him any equipment. Think it's best for him to just lie low and learn about his powers. I give him a defence matrix, a bracelet he wears so he can contact me in an emergency, and a shield to protect him in case someone dumb decides to use a firearm and point it at his face. Even with powers, it's always good to have contingencies.
It reminded me of my own early days, landed here and had no idea what to do till I found the SCV in this dung heap of trash. Though I wasn't about to mention that nostalgia to him. That level of cringe should remain internal.
He gave me this earnest little smile, none of that K-pop smile bullshit, a genuine one. "I learned a lot today," he'd said earlier. "More than I thought I had to."
He wasn't wrong."No worries, you good going back alone?" He nodded and simply said, "Yeah, I know my way around. You're not exactly that far from the bakery on foot. Take care, Sunbae."
I sighed," Make sure you try practising when no one is watching at home. Do it in your room at night or something, try practising moulding it into different shapes, and try out different substances too, maybe try turning flour to gold"
That got him smiling, "Whoa! Good Idea! I'll head home and borrow my mom's gold jewelry!" His mom will probably kill him if she finds out someone messes with their stuff, but oh well.
"Wait" I said. I hand him some money. 5000 in cash, bundled up in a wad with rubber bands. Money I stole from the ABB warehouse. Thought he deserved it, probably needs it more than I do anyway. Still got a lot more at the base since I dont need it.
His eyes turned wide, and he tried to refuse, "N-no, I can't take it" I just rolled my eyes and shoved it to his chest forcefully.
"Just take it. You got issues with your girls, right? If you need more, just ask." He turned down to look at the money and look at me, not sure what to decide..I shove it further till he drops the cash, and catch it again.
"Just take it, your Sunbae is loaded as fuck, how else can I afford to build all of this?"
Hopefully, that would close the deal. How else could I build this under normal circumstances? Probably spend a lot of money to build a base this big. He doesn't need to know that thought.
I watched him glance back toward the distant bakery district, where the city glow started to warm the horizon. He still moved like he half-expected someone to jump out and ask him for a selfie or scream "Bread Oppa" again. I sympathised. I'd had more than enough of being called Noodle Oppa for an entire lifetime.
I gave him a nod, the kind that conveyed everything without needing words: Good work. Get home safe. Don't burn yourself out. He nodded back, shy but proud, like the meaning had landed exactly the way I meant it. No need to say anything.
He got it. Bro code successfully transmitted.
Then he turned and started down the road, steps slow but steady, clutching the money in his hand.. His shadow stretched long behind him, flickering with each passing streetlight. For a moment, I thought I could see some backbone again. There's that harem protagonist energy.
Hope he doesn't find fault with the ABB.
I waited until he was almost out of sight before turning away.
I need to start heading out too soon, doing patrols at night with Shadow Stalker. I should probably work on that custom SCV. I found myself back in thehangar bay of the SCV in the Command Centre, the buzz of cooling conduits and the faint metallic tang of lubricant settling into the air. It was quite surprising, considering Trainwreck had been here less than an hour ago, turning trees into confetti. There are still tree bark splinters around the entrance of the hangar.
The bay lights brightened automatically as I stepped in.
"SCV-1, to maintenance bay centre in the hangar," I called.
The little worker unit rolled out from its charging alcove, servo-arms folded neatly, welding laser dimmed. It chirped once, its equivalent of a greeting, and then another shorter beep when it noticed the dismantling platform waiting in the centre of the room. " Reporting for du-ahhh! no!"
Yeah. It was understood immediately. And it did not like it.
The chassis gave a subtle shudder, the mechanical equivalent of taking a step back. I sighed and crouched next to it. "Look, buddy," I murmured, placing my hand lightly on the side of its dome, "this is going to make you tougher. Stronger. You'll be able to handle the advanced payloads and do a little pew pew while moving like an energizer bunny." Okay, that came out wrong. Was there even an Energiser battery around here?
SCV-1 made a low, uncertain whine. If it had shoulders, they'd be hunched."It's an upgrade," I said. "Not decommissioning. I'd never do that to you."
It tilted its chassis upward in that funny little way it did when thinking it over, then slowly rolled onto the platform with the air of someone signing a medical consent form under protest. A single resigned beep punctuated the moment.
"Roger that, boss…!" it chirped reluctantly.
"Good. Brave little guy."
The clamps secured around its frame with a soft hiss. Panels unfolded from the ceiling and walls, diagnostic arms, precision tools, and sensory scanners. My own HUD flickered on, systems linking as I initiated the teardown.
The whirr of servos filled the bay as I began removing its side plating. Beneath the armoured cladding, the wiring looked… tired. Overclocked, stressed, not designed for the nonsense I'd been putting it through lately. No wonder it was reluctant. Even a machine knew when it was running on borrowed efficiency. Maybe because it never got built in the first place and was just sent here, oddly enough. Could SCV1 actually have come from the world of Starcraft directly? If only I could ask the goddess of bets. But she ain't here.
"First things first," I muttered, pulling up the specs. "Generator upgrade."
The old micro-fusion core was decent-but barely. I unlatched the primary housing, slid it free, and the moment it disconnected, the entire chassis sagged like a sleeping puppy. Energy levels dropped to maintenance-only; its lights dimmed to soft amber.
"Don't worry," I said. "You'll like the new one, we're upgrading to a fusion Cell Power Drive and the Charon Booster module."
The Charon Booster module lay on the next table, a bulky, compact beast of a generator, far more efficient and giving enough stable output to support heavier armaments. I installed the mounting braces, re-threaded the coolant lines, and then eased the new core into place. Not what I intend to use it for, missile launching, but more of a quick boost to go from 0-360 in a second or two. I'm probably gonna regret it. Hindsight 50/50. I'd take my chances.
When I reconnected it, the effect was immediate.
SCV-1's lights snapped from amber to bright teal. The chassis lifted slightly with renewed torque. It gave a startled, delighted chirp-chirp?, the mechanical version of whoa, I feel amazing.
I smirked. "Told you."
Now that the power problem was fixed, I turned my focus to the fun part: the Charon booster housings for the mounted missiles. Now this is the right application for the Charon Boosters. The old system wasn't designed for projectile weapons, eh…not so good when your enemy actually needs to aim at stuff. Just swinging. As for actual rockets? eh..no. I dont wanna kill anyone just yet. I would probably design something like stun missiles with EMP or something. Gotta keep it non-lethal after all.
I swapped the actuator rings, reinforced the launch cradle, and added a vented stabiliser. Piece by piece, SCV-1 turned from a rugged little worker into something closer to a battlefield technician with teeth.
Throughout the upgrades, SCV-1 occasionally wiggled a servo or flexed a new joint, testing its enhanced mobility. The excitement in its movement was unmistakable. Fear replaced by pride.
By the time I finished the last calibration and removed the clamps, it rolled off the platform with a confident rev of its motor, swivelling its arms experimentally.
"There you go," I said, standing back and wiping my hands. "Stronger, faster… and now you can actually fit a Charon missile without frying your circuits. You're welcome."
SCV-1 beeped twice, sharp and pleased. "Awesome!" it beeped again and again.
I have a mad idea.
A really mad Idea, honestly. Not sure if it will work.
Imagine…turning an SCV into a battletech brawler or…nah, scratch that. Let's go full Armoured Core. At least I wanna try to emulate that crazy lateral and uplift movement like a friggin race car. The G-force itself is gonna kill me.
But honestly, that's a huge undertaking. I need to build an MT or NEXT-style cockpit capable of shock shock-absorbing cradle under high G-Force reinforcement, like a fighter jet bare minimum. Panoramic HUD view and an OS that could bridge Terran UED design to AC FCS -Fire Control system to fit modular composite armour panels and software integration.
I'll check with Monica later to see if it's even feasible to create something like that. But for now, time to suit and do a test drive.
"By the way, whatever happened to that little birdie?" I asked. She did say we were hacked earlier. Monica simply replied in that flat tone, " The birdie was let go as requested. We had a chat and arrived at an amicable solution"
Huh..Is Monica making friends now, huh? How fast they grow up. Now she has hacker friends already. I wonder who it is. Eh..whatever. Not like the place could ever be hacked while Monica is in it.
"I'm gonna go visit Shadow for a bit, Monica. Oh, by the way, see if you can think of a way to create a cockpit with a minimalist cradle design to fit into an SCV with G-Force shock absorbent, Panoramic HUD view and an OS that could bridge Terran UED design to a working FCS in the UED database"
Monica's hologram appears " Design parameters are highly unstable for a new mech design based on an SCV. Are you sure this is what you want, Commander?"
Hmm…
"By the way, why did you call me Operator and not Commander before Jinho?" That got me thinking, why indeed. Monica immediately replied
"I was under the impression that Jinho is not someone you've let in your inner circle yet, Commander, or was I wrong in the assumption?" Nah, she's right. I shouldn't have nitpicked.
"Nah..that makes sense. To be honest, I didn't even think that far about it. Sure. Oh yes..about the SCV. It's just that… I have this idea about a mech that weighs less than 10 tons moving around and speeding like a race car."
Monica thought for a while before replying, "It could be feasible if we create modular parts and reduce the weight on the SCV while still keeping the same frame. It won't be the same as an ordinary SCV model; instead, it would be something else, similar to the designs of a Viking or a Thor that moves faster."
Yeah, that's what I thought as well."Eh, maybe. I'll write up a mock-up blueprint of an idea and see if you can do the finishing touches later on, gotta roll. Sophia is probably cursing my ass for being late"
I left with my Uniform and modified ghost helmet, climbed into SCV1 cockpit.
SCV1 crouched on its new booster struts like a nervous dog at the vet. A low mechanical whine vibrated through the mech's frame, jittery, almost pleading. I swear the damn thing was looking at me even though it didn't have a face.
"Relax," I muttered, patting the plating like I was calming a skittish horse. "You're gonna be fine. Probably."
The internal systems chimed back at me with a doubtful beep. Close enough to reluctant agreement.
I climbed into the cockpit and buckled in, already regretting the idea. The Charon booster upgrade wasn't supposed to be used like this but uhh, it's improvisation! Part of terran ingenuity. Just mix and match stuff, hope to god it clicks and viola! Creativity! These things were made for missile stabilisation, not for… flight-adjacent stupidity. But at this point in my life, "not supposed to" had lost all meaning.
The hatch sealed with a hiss. Monica's voice drifted through the comm. "Calibration complete. Good luck, Commander. Also, try not to die." What?
I braced, took a breath- and engaged the boosters.
The world instantly tried to kill me.
Dammmnnn youuu Monica!! You knew this was gonna happen!!
SCV1 launched upward as someone fired it out of a drunken slingshot. The cockpit shook so violently my teeth rattled. My stomach went up first, then sideways, then somewhere behind me as the mech pitched forward into something that legally could not be called flight.
Fuck fuck fuck!! G-Force!!
We were airborne technically. If you called barreling to the sky like a drunken mech driver counts, Brockton Bay blurred underneath as the SCV pinwheeled above rooftops in a barely controlled corkscrew. I yanked the controls to stabilise us, but the mech responded with the digital equivalent of panicked flailing. There are no horizontal boosters. We're moving like a Bugatti in the sky, but there's no turning speed. I forgot to install boosters that go sideways…
THERE'S NO HORIZONTAL BOOSTERS!!! I FUCKING FORGOT!
The back boosters can only tilt sideways a little and isnt very efficient when it comes to peak air movements. We clipped the edge of an apartment roof, skidded off a billboard advertising seafood, and bounced off an office building window with a metallic clang that echoed across the street.
Some guy inside spilt his coffee and screamed.
I screamed back."Ahhh!!"
After what felt like an eternity of death spirals and aerodynamic war crimes, the PRT HQ finally came into view
I aimed for it.
We came in sideways, boosters sputtering, trajectory wobbling like a drunk pigeon. The mech slammed onto the landing pad so hard I saw my ancestors. Alarms blared. Something somewhere is definitely bent.
The cockpit hatch popped open automatically leaned out. Took one breath, felt like I'm gonna barf, clicked the side button to open up the lower side of the helmet to expose my mouth and promptly threw up over the side of the SCV.
"Bueeeeekkk-" rainbow shit coming out of my mouth. Some PRT trooper on the ground looked up, horrified. I waved weakly.
"Test flight… success," I croaked. Fuck…never do that again…ah fuck.
Then I threw up again.
And that was how SCV1 achieved its first janky, barely-legal, technically-airborne, my first ever fully-traumatising flight into Brockton Bay. Fuck it. Test flight failed. Who am I kidding? That was a disaster.
I half-stumbled, half-slid off the landing pad ladder and hit the ground with all the grace of a tranquillised rhino. My legs didn't so much carry me toward the PRT entrance as they reluctantly followed gravity in that general direction. One guard moved as if deciding whether to ask me if I needed medical help.
One look at my expression, and he wisely chose "no." I did show them my credentials as an Independent under the PRT.
Dignity was not achieved, though…
The front doors slid open, cool air hitting my overheated face. I forced myself through the lobby, ignoring the security cameras swivelling to track me.
I must've looked like an Icarus who'd seen the Sun as God and found out God wasn't the problem, Icarus just had terrible piloting skills, so you fell down like a bitch.
As I passed the metal detector, fully aware I was carrying about six different things that would set it off but somehow didn't, the familiar black-and-silver silhouette of Shadow Stalker dropped from an overhead vantage like a smug gargoyle. Is she doing the Batman thing even indoors?
Seriously…girl needs to stop cosplaying as Batman in military tech gear. That just looks so stupid.
I must've looked like I'd crawled out of a washing machine mid-cycle. She crossed her arms, body language sharp enough to cut steel.
"What the hell happened to you?"
I lifted a hand, paused halfway through, and leaned my forehead against the cool wall to stop the spinning.
"I took SCV1 flying," I managed.
She stared. I waited for a lecture. Or a snarky insult. Or something appropriately Sophia-like.Instead, she blinked once and said, "Wait, hold up. The Mech can't fly."
"Yeah," I muttered, sliding down the wall until I hit the floor. "I figured that out after we were already upside down over the Boardwalk sky…fucking forgot to put on side boosters."
She crouched in front of me, helmet tilted slightly as if trying to check if I was concussed. Honestly, I wasn't sure myself.
"Why would you even try something so stupid?"
"Because I upgraded the generator, install something that makes it go 0-360 like an F1 in the sky. Totally forgot some stuff in all the excitement, I guess," I said, hands still shaking. "And because sometimes intelligence takes a day off, alright?"
She looked me over again, sweat-soaked, pale, probably smelling faintly of vomit too, her head slowly shaking as Sophia made a disgusted sound as I clutched the edge of the bench again.
"For someone who plays genius, you're an idiot," she said.
"I feel like I got blender-cycled…d-dont talk ", almost barfing again. There was a long pause as she eyed me in a way that wasn't exactly concerned, but occupied the same neighbourhood. Maybe the same street. Maybe.
"Can you walk?" she asked.
"Debatable," I said, still reeling in with G-force sickness. The mother of all motion sickness, probably. She reluctantly grabbed my arm and yanked me up with zero sympathy. I groaned. She ignored it and kept dragging me toward the elevators. The elevator dinged, and she hauled me in like I weighed nothing.
"You're pathetic," she said flatly.
"Vehicular experimentation is hard," I muttered back.
She snorted. "You're an idiot. A huge fucking big baby! You should be in the Wards, not me!"
"Probably." I didn't argue. What's the point?
"And you smell like you threw up."
"That too."
We stepped into the elevator. She tapped the button with unnecessary force. Then, after a moment, she glanced sideways at me and added, quieter:
"…But at least you showed up; it was getting unbearable being here."
I closed my eyes. Leaned against the elevator wall. Tried not to imagine the lobby spinning like a carousel.
"Trust me," I said. "I'm regretting it already."
Her smirk betrayed that she already knew the answer. I could almost hear her mental commentary sizing me up with words like " idiot, reckless, dumbass, noodle brain.
The doors slide open with a soft ding. Shadow Stalker leaned against the railing, her new armour clinking slightly as she shifted. I pressed my forehead against the console, trying to breathe without puking again, and someone stepped in.
It was Dragon.
She froze for a second, eyes scanning the cramped space, landing on me and then Shadow Stalker.
"Oh…are you the new Tinker, Dreamhack?" Her voice was calm, professional, but I could feel the slight twitch of surprise in it.
"Just J..ugh.," I corrected quickly, hoping she wouldn't read the sarcasm in my tone. "Alias for now."
Shadow Stalker raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. Dragon's gaze swept over me once, then at Shadow Stalker. "You two… together?" she asked, in that neutral, precise way only a thinker with sharp instincts could.
I blinked. "Not exactly. Just… She's bored and asked me to hang out.."
Her lips twitched almost imperceptibly, a small smirk. Shadow Stalker chuckled softly beside me, leaning into the railing.
The lift hummed as it carried us upward, the tension mixing with this odd camaraderie. I kept my eyes closed, silently thanking the lift for holding together and trying not to imagine what kind of reports would be filed about my latest stunt.
By the time the doors opened again, I felt slightly less like a human disaster and more like a walking cautionary tale. But hey, at least Dragon didn't comment on the vomit. Not like she could smell it, could she? Does the suit have a nose to simulate smell? Hope not.
We got off first. "Nice to meet you, Miss Dragon. "
Dragon then said, "By the way, J…Do you know who Monica is?"