“Well, if it ain’t the crusty old bastard again.”
“Hah! You talk big, but talk innit anythin’. You know what I’m here
for. Talkin’ll just get you killed!”
“Tch,” Davídrius scowled, glaring at the opposite side of the
conversation in the distance. “Go home, Strén!” he growled into his handheld
communicator, “You know what I’ve done to the rest of the Bleeders in the area.
I’ll do exactly the same to you!”
“Puahahahaha!” the Introtechnic suddenly drew away from the
communicator as its speakers exploded with laughter. “Looks like li’l Mister
Protector’s ego has grown too big for his compound! Well it ain’t too late, if
you apologize now an’ hand over the supplies, we’ll leave you and your purty
little village intact.”
Davídrius looked up and then glanced over at a cannon mounted on the
wall. He jerked his head forwards before turning back to face the intruders –
just in time for the cannon to spark and then fire a high-speed projectile. It
zoomed toward the large man standing closest to the compound, but it was almost
instantaneously obliterated as a large boulder popped out of the ground
directly in its way.
“Hah! Cute,” Strén commented, “But, boy, you sure don’t know what you
just got yourself into. Come sunrise tomorrow an’ I’ll be standin’ over your
dead carcass!”
“Damn
right you’ll be standing over my ‘dead carcass’,” Davídrius sneered, “You’ll
have to kill me twice before you lay a hand on these walls!”
The gang leader didn’t respond. Instead, Davídrius could barely make
out some hand motions before a high-speed projectile suddenly screamed straight
toward the Introtechnic’s position – and was stopped by an invisible force
parallel to the tall wall. Davídrius smirked as he watched the air shimmer
slightly and then glanced around as a constant hail of projectiles began
impacting the shield protecting the compound. He quickly switched the channel
of his communicator and held it back up to his mouth. “Don’t fire back until
the shields have dropped to forty percent. Let’s see how much ammo we can get
the bastards to waste.” He then stuffed the communicator in his jacket pocket
before back flipping off of the wall and to the ground below, where the three
members of HM were standing.
“You have a shield generator too?” Kevérin exclaimed.
“You’d be surprised how much shit your little nation dumps on our
coast.”
“We don’t–“
“Listen, Captain Pyro, I don’t care for your excuses. I’ve seen with my
own goddamn eyes that Tekdecénian ships dump shit on the coast. Bugger if I
know if it’s your government or some stupid corporation, but it’s Tekdecénian,
and that’s all I care.”
“Sooo…”
Siyuakén spoke up, cutting short the brewing argument, “…what’s the plan?”
“Huh?” Davídrius glanced back at her.
“…The plan?” She responded exasperatedly, “You didn’t just provoke the
leader of a gang to lay siege to your compound without a plan, did you?”
“Oh. Yeah, of course. The plan’s to attack after dusk.”
“…Really? That’s it?”
“Yes, that’s it,” the Introtechnic nodded patronizingly, “That’s all it
takes against these stupid bastards. Provoke them into wasting all their
artillery on the shields and then when they ain’t got any real back-up, rush in
and kill ‘em all.”
“Kill?...”
Kaoné frowned.
“Yeah, kill,” Davídrius repeated as though it were only natural to say.
“Tch. Don’t tell me y’all are still rookies.”
“We’re not rookies,” Kevérin scowled, “I’m a Transfer Captain–“
“Rank doesn’t mean shit if you don’t got any experience,” Davídrius cut
in, “…sheesh, what do the world’s militaries do if their Chaotics just sit and
twiddle their thumbs all day?”
“I take it you’re not in the military,” Siyuakén deadpanned.
“Hell no. You think I’d join that dinky little thing Treséd calls a
military?” he snorted, “this place can’t afford for me to have done that
anyway. Until the three of you pranced up, Strén and I were the only Chaotics
in the whole damn region. I’ve been knocking out as many of their camps as I
can, but they keep popping back up in different places. And I can’t straight-up
beat Strén, he’s one of those lucky double Chaotics. Geotechnic and
Superstrength Introtechnic. But now that the three of you are here…”
Kevérin crossed his arms irately. “You want to use us as your own brute
squad?”
“Hey, I’m not a goddamn Bleeder,” Davídrius growled, “You ain’t seen
the shit they’ve pulled. The stuff they stole. They people they killed.
The people they stole. You can’t tell me whether
it’s right or wrong to fight fire with fire if you’ve never even sat in front
of a smoldering woodchip!”
The other three Chaotics responded with uneasy silence.
“…This is my only stipulation for joining your li’l troupe,” he
continued, his voice lowered, “I dunno how bad you want me. I’ll admit I
wouldn’t be surprised at all if you decided to waltz right on out after this
siege lets up. But if you decide whether or not to help take down the Bleeders
without actually thinking about it, without talking to anyone who lives in this
compound,” he gestured at the small walled-in town behind him, “If you make
this decision based on your sheltered little upbringings alone, then I’ll gut
you where you stand, ‘cause I’ve got no time for ignorant foreigners to be
telling me what I should do.” He then exhaled
deeply and turned around so that his back was to the other three. “…I’ve got
some stuff to check on before sunset. If you wanna talk to me before then,
well, try to find me. Else I’ll meet you back here at twilight to hear your
answers.” He then sped off, disappearing just faster than the other Chaotics
could process the last of his words.
“Wow,”
Kevérin muttered, “…I knew a Tresédian would be no good.”
“He’s so violent…” Kaoné whimpered.
“But he’s not entirely wrong…” Siyuakén commented quietly.
The Pyro and Materiatechnic snapped their heads toward the
Electrotechnic. “What.”
“Treséd really is Nimalia’s shithole,” she responded, “You two probably
don’t see it as much, since Tekdecé and Nimaliaka are both always so busy with
the space fleets or the Interstellar Gate. But, being from Relédiaka – well, we
get more refugees from Treséd than any other nation. It’s hard to ignore what
it’s like here. Yet, somehow, people still do…”
“That doesn’t give him an excuse to just kill everyone!” Kaoné
exclaimed.
“Maybe, but is it really worse than if we were sent off to the Drakkar
or Riaxen space fronts?” Siyuakén questioned, “At least he’s actually defending
his home. We’d just be stuck in the side-effect of political bullshit.”
Kaoné opened her mouth as if to speak, but closed it again before
turning away. Kevérin simply crossed his arms irately.
“We should probably take his advice, and talk to at least a couple of
the people here,” the Electrotechnic suggested.
“…Yeah,” Kevérin eventually admitted, “...Talk to people. Tch. As if
that’s ever changed anyone’s mind…”
*
* *
4 Hours Later
Kaoné wearily sat
down on a nearby bench and leaned against the wall behind her. She sighed and
closed her eyes, tired and exhausted – both physically and mentally. Siyuakén
had been right about the Tresédian climate being more comfortable around the
equinoxes, but more comfortable does not mean the same thing
as comfortable. It was still remarkably warm, especially in Kaoné’s thick
Nimaliakian uniform. Sand was no issue – she could easily keep herself clean of
the small grains – but she had little ability to control climate as a
Materiatechnic. And these physical elements of exhaustion weren’t even taking
into account all of the things she had heard over the past four hours, all of
the people she had talked to…
“Hey, Kaoné.”
She glanced to her left to see Siyuakén approaching. She waved; the
Electrotechnic waved back before taking a seat on the bench as well.
“Davídrius… wasn’t wrong.”
“Yeah…” Siyuakén sighed, “that, or he got everyone here to lie to us. I
doubt he’s charismatic enough to pull that off though.”
“The Bleeders…” Kaoné muttered, “…I’ve barely ever heard of them
before. But they’ve been here for years, doing all these… awful things.”
“It’s just like he said,” Siyuakén commented, “Hardly anyone outside of
Treséd cares about what goes on here. And the Bleeders keep to Treséd, so…
yeah. But still… this hardly excuses anyone from ignoring what’s going on over
here.”
“…I guess this means we should help Davídrius, then…”
Siyuakén looked over at the Materiatechnic. “You don’t want to?”
“Well– I want to do something,” she replied, “I know the
Bleeders need to be stopped, but– …there has to be a better way than just
killing them. …Right?”
“Maybe. But Davídrius probably won’t be willing to do anything else.
And… I’m not sure I would be, either.”
Kaoné snapped her attention to Siyuakén and stared at her in surprise.
“Wha-what? Why?!”
“…It’s a long story, and not one that I’m entirely willing to tell
right now,” the Electrotechnic responded, “But while we’re on this topic – I’ll
be honest, Kaoné. Given what I’ve seen so far, I don’t think killing alone is
where you draw the line.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re the most pacifistic person I’ve met to date,” Siyuakén stated
bluntly, “Yet, you’re a Materiatechnic. Why are you so averse to fighting?”
“I don’t have to have a reason to not like fighting,” Kaoné frowned,
“and it worries me that you think I have to…”
“It would be one thing if you were a civilian. But you’re not. You’re
in the military – and you’re a Lieutenant at that, so you’ve obviously
put some effort into it.”
“Nimaliakian Chaotics are conscripted as Lieutenants…” Kaoné looked
down, “…I didn’t have a choice.”
“…” Siyuakén glanced over at the Materiatechnic before standing up
slowly. She looked down at her hand, watching it spark momentarily before
clenching her fist. “Well, I’m not going to just let the Bleeders get away with
what they’ve done. In this kind of situation, against these kinds of people –
doing nothing is almost the same as killing.”
“But killing itself isn’t necessary!” Kaoné refuted adamantly.
“Maybe not. We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Though I have a
feeling Davídrius will end up forcing our hand one way or the other…” Siyuakén
sighed. “We’ll help him tonight. After that… I don’t know. We’ll have to see.”
“…” Kaoné responded with silence as the Electrotechnic walked away. She
then closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall, hoping to rest until
twilight.
*
* *
“Gah–! Tch– augh!”
Davídrius quickly withdrew from the machinery in front of him, waving
his hand frantically in pain. “Ow!” he exclaimed through gritted teeth,
“…goddamn Chaos Engine, ‘course it’d have to break right when I need it.”
“That’s not a Chaos Engine.”
Davídrius whipped around and then narrowed his eyes when he spotted
Kevérin standing in the entrance to the machine shop. “…How’d you find me?” the
Introtechnic questioned.
“Your Sword Boxes were outside,” Kevérin stated flatly.
“Wow, you can recognize Sword Boxes,” Davídrius deadpanned, “You’re
smarter than I thought.”
“If you don’t want any help–“
“Hey, hey, alright, alright. I’m just screwin’ around. I don’t have
anything against you, I’m just a little irritated with your
country. …And I suppose you by extension ‘cause you’re in their
military.”
“…”
“…What’s this about not being a Chaos Engine?”
“It’s impossible for Chaos Engines to be this small,” Kevérin
explained, “They’re only used in spacecraft. Whatever’s powering your mech has
to be something else.”
“How’d you know this was from the mech?”
“It’s right there.”
Davídrius glanced to where Kevérin was pointing: a mech, about ten
meters tall, standing in a hangar-like space to the left of the machine shop.
There was a hole slightly larger than the engine in the mech's lower chest, as
well as a forklift-like vehicle parked to the left of the engine.
“…That doesn’t mean anything,” the Introtechnic replied defensively.
“I’m sure it doesn’t,” Kevérin deadpanned, “…do you want help with
that?”
Davídrius eyed the Pyrotechnic suspiciously. “What’d you know about
fixin’ machines?”
“I learned my fair share when training back in Tekdecé.”
“Oh, so that’s what you were doin’ instead of learnin’ how to fight.”
Kevérin turned around and began walking toward the exit.
“Hey hey hey, alright, I’ll– I’ll shut up,” Davídrius quickly
back-pedaled, “If you can fix this real quick, man, that’d be great.”
“No guarantees, but I’ll see what I can do.”
Davídrius stepped aside as Kevérin approached the engine and then
crouched down, looking it over. The Introtechnic looked on curiously, though
tried his best to appear disinterested whenever the Pyrotechnic glanced
backwards.
“I’m not a rookie, you know. None of us are.”
“Huh?” Davídrius cocked his head in thought, “…oh. …Look, I’m sure
y’all are great Chaotics. There’s gotta be a reason you’ve been chosen for
this, er, Hipster business.”
“It’s officially Hero Machina.”
“Wow, that’s kinda cool. You don’t like it?”
Kevérin stared at Davídrius unamusedly before returning his attention
to the engine.
“Oi, oi, you’re a lot stiffer than Siyuakén made you out to be.”
“You talked to Siyuakén?”
“A li’l, yeah, before I shooed her off so I could work on the Chaos
Engine. Well, this engine.”
“What’d she say?”
“About you?” Davídrius smirked, “Well, that you’re the least serious of
the lot of you, mostly.”
“Tch, of course she’d say that.” Kevérin muttered, “I’m technically her
CO now, too. Where’s my respect…”
“Respect’s something you gotta earn,” Davídrius stated, “Can’t have it
by default. Part of why I don’t understand you military types. I’m not gonna
respect some schmuck just because he has a bunch of stars on his jacket and a
fancy title like ‘Colonel’.”
Kevérin glanced over at the Introtechnic. “…How was growing up here?”
“Not worth talking about,” Davídrius answered immediately, “My
childhood can be summed up by saying Treséd is a shithole. ‘Cause it is. Sooner
I’m out of here the better.”
“Then why are you forcing us to help you take out the Bleeders?”
“I’m not forcing you to do anything.” He smirked when
Kevérin snorted. “Though I understand what you’re asking. See, as much as I’d
like to leave, I’m pretty much the sole active protector of this entire region.
If I leave, the Bleeders’d have their way with everything and, well, I’ll be
damned if I let that happen.”
“So you just want to kill them all?”
“You got a better idea?”
“…”
“I’d almost be satisfied if the rest of Nimalia had a
sudden ‘bout of caring, swooped in, arrested the entire Bleeder gang and locked
‘em up for forever an’ a half. But I’ve seen too much shit to settle for that.
I’ll take ‘em all out myself if I have to. Even if it’s just Strén, at least
the compound’ll have a chance against the rest. Look, I don’t expect y’all to
understand my grudge. But you’re soldiers. If you don’t get used to killing
now, well, I’d hate to think what’d happen to you when whatever the next war is
crops up on Nimalian territory.”
“Wow, it actually almost sounds like you care about us!”
“Tch,” Davídrius scowled, “…you know what’s up with the engine yet?”
“I fixed it almost immediately,” Kevérin stood up and wiped his hands
against each other.
“…You,” Davídrius smirked in spite of himself, “…you used the goddamn
engine as an excuse to keep me talking. Managed to get me talkin’ more than
Siyuakén did. Looks like I’m not givin’ you enough credit.”
“Heh,” Kevérin half-smiled back, “You’d better not underestimate us.”
“We’ll see just how much I’m underestimating y’all tonight.”
“Yeah, sure thing.” The Pyrotechnic turned toward the exit. “See you in
a couple hours.”
“Aye,” the Introtechnic nodded as he watched Kevérin leave. He then
glanced back at the engine before frowning and rushing after the Transfer
Captain. “Hey, wait, you never said what was wrong with the engine–!”
*
* *
2 Hours Later
“I see y’all made it back.”
“Yeah…” Kaoné replied quietly, glancing up at the rapidly dimming sky.
“The artillery barrage has stopped,” Siyuakén observed.
“Aye,” Davídrius nodded, “I had our guns fire back for a couple hours.
Probably discouraged Strén a bit. Even if they haven’t run themselves out of
ammo like I’d hoped, artillery won’t do much good against a Chaotic raid… which
brings us to why we’re here.” The Introtechnic looked each of the other three
Chaotics in the eye, “You don’t hafta say yes, if you don’t wanna go I’ll stick
to my word and leave you alone. I’d really appreciate the help though.”
“I’ll help,” Siyuakén responded.
“I will, too,” Kevérin declared, “…I’ll at least tag along and make
sure you don’t get caught in deep shit.”
“Nice to have ya lookin’ after me,” Davídrius snorted, and then glanced
down at Kaoné.
“…I don’t want to kill anyone,” she stated.
The Introtechnic frowned, and then shrugged. “You’re a Materiatechnic.
I guess you won’t have as much trouble differentiating between stunning and
killing force… but don’t expect me to hold back. In the very
least, Strén’s gotta be good and dead before I leave this continent. I’m not
askin’ you to kill for me, I’m just askin’ you to watch my back.”
“But isn’t it the same–“
“I’m not here for a discussion on what counts as killing or not. Are
you in or out?”
Kaoné glanced over at Kevérin and Siyuakén, who looked back
expectantly. She then turned her attention to the ground before replying
quietly, “I’ll at least go with you…”
“…Alright,” Davídrius nodded, and glanced up at the sky. He then spun
around and approached a touchpad in the wall. After quickly typing a code into
it a lever appeared; he pulled the lever, and a small door, just large enough
for a single person, opened in the wall. The Introtechnic gestured for the
other three Chaotics to follow him as he passed through the wall and emerged
outside the compound, where he stopped to stare across the sandy plains at the
Bleeder encampment a couple hundred meters away.
“They’re pretty far,” Kevérin scowled.
“Yeah, but not too far,” Davídrius reached down to the handles of his
sword boxes and drew two sabers, brandishing them in anticipation. “I’m sure
y’all can at least protect yourselves from incoming fire. ...Well, you
shouldn’t have to. I’ll draw their attention first. Try to get close enough to
do damage before you draw any attention to yourself. Got it?” When the other
three Chaotics nodded, he crouched into a running stance. “Alright!” he smirked
and then dashed forward, “Time to kick some Bleeder ass!!”
* * * * *
* * * * *
Data Entry: Blade Prisms
Most Chaotics, by the pure nature of possessing supernatural powers, are easily able to cause damage on their own. Pyrotechnics can incinerate things, Geotechnics can cause destruction through tectonic destabilization, Chaostechnics can cause sheer unadulterated devastation, etc. However some types of Chaotics are less easily able to use their powers for direct damage. This applies to most Introtechnics, since their powers have more to do with augmenting their own bodies and abilities than with altering the environment. And within the umbrella of Introtechnics are those with superspeed, who are perhaps the least able Chaotics in the galaxy to directly weaponize their ability without causing harm to themselves, especially against other Chaotics. Thusly throughout history Superspeed Introtechnics have traditionally wielded some type of melee weapon, usually a sword, to use in combat.
Deciding to capitalize on this fact, as well as the fact that many sheaths are not secured to the body well enough for Mach-speed travel, a Citan Megacorporation invented and began producing what they called “Blade Prisms” – initially, they were merely glorified dual-sheaths (one on each hip) attached to a body harness. Due to their somewhat less-than-spectacular and plain appearance, Blade Prisms are colloquially known as “Sword Boxes”. As time progressed, however, Blade Prisms have become more advanced and more useful. At some point in time it became common for Prisms to feature two sets of two blades: a Saber set, meant for cutting, and a Rapier set, meant for stabbing. Sometimes the Rapiers will be attached to a cord spool atop the Prism so they can be used for a variety of purposes such as tripping opponents or even climbing, though using the Rapiers in such a fashion will wear them down very quickly.
For the most part, Blade Prisms are valued by how well they’re harnessed to the body and how heavy and/or bulky they are. Loosely harnessed or bulky prisms are lower valued since they hamper mobility, whereas the wearer will barely notice the presence of well-harnessed and sleek prisms.
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