Judging by the light coming in through the window, it was early evening at best. I made my way down the stairs, still groggy. Half-dressed, with only my selectloader full of emergency shells to comfort me. I stepped out into the garden, and the cause of the small explosion was clear.

  Roxy was standing there with her arms crossed, clearly unimpressed. At the workshop, Clara was frantically trying to cover the outside wall with a tarp.

  The super turned her head and raised an eyebrow. “Sorry that your nap was disturbed, babe.”

  [What happened?]

  “Just a slight miscalculation,” Clara interjected, her hand shaking slightly as she applied some manner of glue to hold the sheet of thick plastic in place.

  “She set off one of your High Explosive shells.” Roxy rolled her eyes. “This after losing one of her fingers… I’m starting to doubt her capabilities.”

  The techie shot her a glare. “You take that back.”

  “Any innovation doesn’t count if you end up dead because of it.”

  I rubbed at my eyes. Clearly, even with everything we had, we were still under-equipped, or Clara was just being unsafe. Not a surprise given she was spending all of her time working.

  [No more arguing, please. Just continue with a little more regard for your own safety.]

  She pouted, but gave me a nod before scurrying back into the workshop.

  Roxy sighed, gesturing to the house, and we walked back. “How was your training today?”

  [Not what I was expecting at all. In a good way.]

  “The League wasn’t going to give you much soft work, due to your nature.” She led me into the kitchen and went for the fridge. “As much as Kingston sings your praises, they aren’t treating you like the rest of us. So I told the others to pick up that slack.”

  [I appreciate that.]

  She pulled out some leftovers to warm up. “I think it’s fair to say that nobody knows you like I do, Dubs. I’ve seen you at your best and worst. If you can love or care about me, then there’s no reason why you’re incapable of all the other good things we have to do for the city.”

  [Once the Heroism Arena is out of the way, I have some ideas. What is it you’ve been up to today? I missed you.]

  Roxy shot me a smile as she loaded the tub of food into the microwave. “How sweet. Hobgoblins. I actually brought back some of the finished hand parts, including all of your fingers.”

  My fingers. The fact that I was getting so close to having the hand replacement was almost a shock. It was happening. Being left in the dark about the progress was a little mean, but it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Still, I’d fish for information.

  [How are they looking so far?]

  “Hmm.” She tilted her head from side to side as the microwave hummed into life. “The individual pieces are forged well. Material seems solid. Can’t wait to have them wrapped around my neck.”

  I was too busy imagining flexing metallic fingers, and her statement popped my more neutral thoughts like bubbles.

  “Sorry.” Roxy turned and smiled. “That was more of a Clara thing to say. I’m excited for you.”

  Before I could proces, the front door opened up and the devil herself walked in. A comment even more appropriate as the techie’s eyes were illuminated in red light rather than the usual bright green.

  [Everything okay?]

  “Yes, Gunquake. I just needed your assistance briefly. For safety.”

  I raised an eyebrow toward the super, but shrugged.

  [Sure. What do you need?]

  “Just hold on to this very unassuming device while I ask you a few questions.” She extended her hand to pass the electronic tube my way.

  Although she was acting rather suspicious, I trusted the process. I took the item from her. It looked like one of the Flash grenades, but was fully metallic aside from several small square pads around it. I held it firmly and nodded for her to continue.

  She hesitated for a moment before returning a nod. “I will ask you a series of three questions. You should consider your answer before replying with a single simple response. Nod if you understand.”

  I nodded. As odd as the situation was, she seemed to be serious about this. I was sure that she could ask me to do almost anything while holding my potential hand hostage and I would still comply.

  “Do you prefer to debilitate opponents with Nerve shot or Foam shot?”

  While Foam definitely had some interesting applications, and was perfect for tying down those who might be resistant to my other ammunition types, Nerve was a mainstay for a reason. Great against criminals and mutants alike, without causing lasting effects.

  [Nerve shot.]

  Clara nodded again, and her eyes drifted to the side for a moment. After a brief silence, she then returned her red gaze my way. “What ammunition type would you use to kill Rockslide?”

  Roxy narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms as she stood waiting for the microwave to finish. It was a simple question with only one real answer, but I spent a few moments thinking over it before speaking - as requested.

  [Sanguine stake.]

  “Thank you. Finally, what Triple shot would you load for fighting an armored mechanized opponent?”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  After some brief consideration, I gave her the answer of the new armor penetrating ammo she had made, followed by Water and Shock. She wrinkled her nose up at this, but said nothing. The techie stared off at the side for a moment before blinking, and her eyes reset to their normal green color.

  “Sufficient. Thank you, Gunquake.” She extended her hand, and I returned the device to her.

  Without any further elaboration, Clara turned and left the house once more. I looked over at Roxy just as the microwave dinged.

  [Any idea?]

  “Nope, and I don’t plan on guessing.”

  I had a feeling it had something to do with my selectloader, but since that already worked via my synapse connection, I didn’t understand the use of reading my brainwaves - if that’s what she was doing. Perhaps Roxy was right, it was madness to try working out what Clara was up to.

  [I’ll stick to worrying about things I can control. Like my sleeping schedule.]

  “It’s been all over the place lately, huh?” Roxy turned with her food, producing a fork from somewhere. “Why don’t you tell me all about your day, and then I’ll make sure you get a good night’s sleep for tomorrow.” She then winked at me before putting some food in her mouth.

  That could only mean one of two things, and I was up for either of them.

  We spent the rest of the evening going over my day, culminating with the news about our potential activities north of the city. The League hadn’t told the rest of the team yet - and I wasn’t sure if it was my duty as the leader or not. Roxy was rather sour over the idea at first, mostly due to how close it was going to be to the Heroism Arena.

  I could tell that she was warming to the idea past the initial apprehension. There was a part of her who like to use her powers freely, as destructive as they were. The missions outside Goldarch were an off-the-record way for us both to let loose. Dangerous. Somewhere we could hone the edge of our capabilities.

  Plus, I was only seventy percent sure the mission would be more than we bargained for.

  The Meteor rolled to a slow stop, and I looked over at Dr Jarl. He had been worried as soon as I had picked him up, and other than some brief idle chat, we had traveled in silence.

  [So you don’t know who this contact is?]

  “No.” He furrowed his brow. “Although I am not familiar with every name in the tech industry, if they are so proficient, then it unnerves me that they are an unknown.”

  I had just been expecting to have a helmet handed to me. Or something more form fitting that I could hide under my hood. My tactical vest had enough plating in it to protect my torso, so it was just my head and my arm that was still vulnerable at this stage.

  [My expectations are rather grounded. Your presence was requested for a reason, however.]

  “Undoubtedly.” His expression continued to display his concern clearly.

  [Don’t worry, I’ll do all the heavy lifting here. I appreciate you coming along for the consultation.]

  Jarl managed a brief smile. “Now that Miss Clara has decided she can complete the rest of her project solo, I have found myself at a loss. In some ways, there is so much left to teach her, but she has also surpassed my expectations in other areas.”

  [She is certainly one of a kind. I owe her a lot.]

  He nodded. “We live in interesting times.”

  A statement that I didn’t have a response to. An odd segue that sounded like he knew something I didn’t - or maybe I was just reading into something that wasn’t there.

  We stepped out of the back of the Meteor and took in the surroundings. An area that bordered between a factory and a warehouse district. There was a distinct smell in the air that reminded me of several places I’d fought in recently. Metal shavings and grease. The warmth of some manner of furnace.

  Yet also dirty and run-down enough to make it seem like an odd choice for a League of Heroes Director to have as a contact on the side.

  I stepped over to a red metal door and knocked. The resulting echo from within also highlighted that this street was also relatively quiet despite it being so early in the day.

  “Maybe they aren’t home?” the Doctor wagered.

  Before I could assure him that they definitely would be, my thought was interrupted by the sound of a heavy dead lock sliding open. The door creaked as it fell away to reveal a female figure dressed in a red jumpsuit and greasy apron.

  She was a tall woman, with dark skin and slightly graying black hair. Her eyes burned with a ferocity that almost matched Roxy’s, and she snarled as she regarded the pair of us.

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  I held up the contact note that I had been given.

  [Kingston said you’d be able to help.]

  Her face soured further, and she rolled her eyes. “Asshole. Come on in, then.”

  Jarl was looking no less nervous, but I could sense his curious nature giving him enough strength to push forward. I led the way and entered the building, closing the door behind us.

  The interior looked like an abandoned factory. Several workbenches covered in grime and disassembled parts sat in a couple of rows, while there were lots of metal cupboards and shelving lining the right side wall.

  “Over here,” the woman instructed, leading us to the back wall. “Droja. No need to introduce yourselves, I know well enough who you both are.”

  It was reasonable to assume that I would be known to most people these days. The fact that she knew the doctor meant she was likely to be the right person for whatever the Director had in mind. She knew her stuff.

  We paused as she hit a hidden button under a shelf near the back wall, and the floor beside us shifted. Cracking open in a wide rectangle, the dirty concrete sunk to form a staircase leading down. It was surprisingly quiet in doing this, which hinted at the tech involved being better than what the warehouse presented.

  Without saying anything else, Droja led us down into an area that looked more like Doctor Jarl’s lab than a warehouse. Softer tones of gray and sleek black across the walls. The floor was a metal grid that could drain liquid spillages. Orderly, well-maintained cables ran along just below the ceiling.

  A handprint scanner kept the door down here locked, and upon Droja opening it, the actual extent of the workshop was revealed.

  It was an armory, for lack of a better word. All manner of tech was arranged on the walls, most of them things I had no idea about their function - but there were a few weapons and what looked like basic cybernetics here and there. Full robotic suits and other blocky mechanisms slowly humming or moving.

  I glanced at Jarl, and he looked like a kid in a candy shop. His eyes shone.

  Droja stopped at an empty table and crossed her arms. She had rolled her sleeves up, and I could now see faint tattoos from wrist to elbow on both arms. In this light, they looked like electrical diagrams, or similar. “So what does the k’shpar want from me?”

  Although I was only briefly familiar with the language used to curse the Director, I could tell that the pair weren’t on the best terms.

  [He believed you would be able to help me with some tech to stop my brains from being shot out.]

  She grunted in return. “Gladly, if it means getting him off my back for another year.”

  I tilted my head, intrigued as to the story there.

  [Sounds like you two have some history.]

  “Story old as time.” She narrowed her eyes at the doctor, who had wandered away to absorb some of the technology. “We dated for a while before he became a hotshot in the League. When Goldarch had a crackdown on mechanical development workshops, the asshole sequestered me to this secret lab, so I may continue working unhindered.”

  [At the cost of him occasionally having sway over what you do?]

  “Yeah. He gets to twist my arm one time a year.” Droja shook her head. “It’s not a bad deal on the surface, but knowing he has that over my head constantly just pisses me off.”

  I nodded, knowing what it was like to be beholden to someone. She sought freedom much like I had from Boss, but she had no outlet for doing all of her work without his protection. As much as I could offer for her to join me, it was only by Kingston’s graces that I had the safety and blind eye to operate as well.

  [We have some shared grievances. Freedom within a determined cage.]

  She nodded slowly, her eyes trying to read my eyes behind my goggles. Perhaps trying to see how genuine I was being. It would be no surprise to anyone shrewd enough to have seen behind the curtain that all heroes were stuck in this playground to some degree. We all played to the League's tune.

  Eventually, she seems content enough with her judgement of me. Droja gave me a dry smile before picking up a toolbox from behind the table.

  “Alright then, Gunquake. Let’s see what we’re working with.”